#why we never got dismissed is beyond me i wasted an entire day

[nekofantasia]

Today was...bad

Not even a good day not even a day day

It was bad! I'm tired! I'm gonna lie down and hopefully things get better later

[swimmingleo]

The Wizard of Oz: yet another conspiracy

It's about the infamous spinning around parallel, this one:

Why... would they do this.

Point is I've gone too far, Harryween happened, I fell into a Wizard of Oz rabbithole and found this that for some reason I've missed all this time, which happens to be mf Pink Floyd related because why wouldn't it be.

I promise it kind of adds up in the end, but it's mostly me... clowning.

The Dark Side of the Rainbow:

It's an old Pink Floyd theory and one of the most well-known in the band's lore: it started around the 80's with the popularization of videotapes. One day, someone just had the idea to mute the Wizard of Oz (1939) and play The Dark Side of the Moon (1973) over it right at the beginning of the movie (the third roar from the MGM lion). A scarily accurate synchronization resulted, to the point where one could ask themselves if the album was indeed produced as an alternate soundtrack to the film.

cut, im pouring mercy on the dash

Just your average fan theory, which really took off in the 90s and surprisingly received a lot of response. The album's audio engineer called it "eyewash" and an impossible thing to do with the technology they had back then. (which is. really not true. You could do it, it was just terribly impractical. then again if you're crazy enough..)

David Gilmour and Nick Mason, guitarist and drummer of the band, also vehemently denied the theory: total non sense and a waste of time.

basically everyone got real pressed for no reason lol it's a cute fan theory guys not gAy rUmOuRs cmon

HOWEVER, there is one person who never denied it and it's the guy who literally conceptualized the entire album. Indeed, Roger Waters found the theory "amusing" and had even referenced Over The Rainbow in later album The Wall (and seeing how frustrated he gets when the audience doesn't engage with their music the way he'd like, it almost feels like he was encouraging the theory but then again. pure assumption idk shit)

So yeah, make what you want of this dysfunctional band's response to the theory.

Okay but does it really work ?

There have been psychological explanations of the phenomenon: the theory has been dismissed as the brain always finding connections and parallels between different elements: if you're looking for something, you find it. Yes, this explains various fan theories like the Beatles' ''Paul is dead'', or crispy audios we have around here (pReTtY uNfoRtUnaTe) where the perception is influenced by what we're told to hear or what we want to see. If you play any random music over any random movie, you will always find synchronized moments. But I think the Dark Side of The Rainbow goes beyond that: you can actually make out obvious interpretations and patterns that make sense with the rest of their discography or what they said about certain things/songs. The album actually matches the movie’s narration or the transitions between scenes. But once again, the theory has been associated with crazy delusional fans on acid who live on conspiracies so... (so larrie of em)

Here you have the full movie, with the album playing on loop over it (cuz it's an album designed to be played on loop). Most little moments feel like those funny coincidences I mentioned before, like a character moving, dancing or speaking on beat, but some others are like... too much for me to dismiss as coincidences, because they carry some deep PF-esque meaning. I won't get much into it here cuz we don't have time for that~ but if you're a PF fan interested by the topic feel free to send me an ask and we'll rant about it it's honestly so cool ffgeifzji

Still, I really recommend to watch this specific part:

There isn't any kind of edit to make it fit. It just naturally goes smooth like that.

CMON IT'S. IT'S WEIRD.

Also the front and back cover of the album:

...No colour > Colour > Back to no colour // Sepia > Technicolor > Back to sepia.

If you're wondering why Roger Pink Floyd would go this far to hint at a movie which had a massive impact on queer culture ever since WW2, and how it could be even more relevant to Larry, here <3

AND LARRY BITCH??

Do we know other weirdos with too much time on their hands who do weird shit with synchronization in their art yes we doooo.

So, the shot of them filmed by a camera spinning like a tornado, in an already spinning setting (twirling dancers) in MVs loaded with queer symbolism.

last one just because... SOTT sounds a lot like The Great Gig in the Sky to me. Also he's flying passing by a rainbow at some point so.

The tornado scene is the core of the Dark Side of the Rainbow theory. The music and image go incredibly well together: the piano starting on the first gust of wind, the music gradually getting louder with the chaos on screen until it suddenly calms down when Dorothy’s unconscious in the eye of the tornado. Music ends when the tornado stops for good. But also the symbolism of that song and that scene combined: The Great Gig in The Sky is part of the transition between the first and the second part of the album and it evokes death. The tornado in Oz is the transition between sepia and technicolor, two different worlds and technically.. it's Dorothy's departure from earth to somewhere over the rainbow.

Meanwhile, TPWK is in black and white, Walls is colorized. Both songs represent a significant milestone in their respectives careers. That theme of "I used to feel bad, but I've made peace with myself and now I feel better".

The TPWK/Walls parallel starts at 1:41. Solely based on that film video I linked earlier, The Wizard of Oz is 1:41:47 long. So like. If they wanted to be little shits and choose a precise timestamp that would hint at the Oz synchronicity theory...

... I just like the idea of Harry and Louis scanning the internet for some rbb/sbb ideas, stumbling upon (or already knowing) the Dark Side of the Rainbow and being like.. aha, we could do that at some point. Because in the end, whether it's intentional or not, it's a pretty big pop culture fan theory, and they've both already hinted at PF and Oz.

All in all, the first person who had the idea to play Pink Floyd's album over the Wizard of Oz would have made an excellent delusional larrie and I wish they were here.

[thetaoofbetty]

did i miss something? bas are still bragging about how that montage in 4x17 was really meaningful, but i recall it merely being all scenes with ba in the same frame and compiled without context. do you think that that scene actually meant anything (given how downhill everything went from there)?

sorry this is late, doll. i got boosted and it knocked me on my ass and i have a deadline for work by the last day of the month—every month.😭

but to answer your question: they're always bragging. even when they have nothing to brag about. they take things, twist them until it fits into whatever narrative they agree with and then go from there.

also, wasn't that montage, like, most of the b/a scenes no matter the context because they don't really have enough to make much of anything unless they use what little they had?

we've all seen them take scenes totally out of context right? like, not even subjective stuff, yeah? like, literal they are saying the things out loud but they still think there's some 5 year conspiracy theory of it all being hush-hush just for them levels of subjectivity.

and no, i don't. roberto said they were going to bring back bh/va together in s5, that was the original plan. so even if their last minute swerve in s5 is what it was, the montage wasn't nearly as pointed as the one in 5x03.

and guys, i know everyone believes what they want (and that's cool with me) but there's believing what you want and ignoring the very clear intention of the writing. listen, they don't like veronica (or betty a lot of the time but whatever, there are other stans who act like betty killed their cat or something it's very weird of them) and that's whatever but people acting like the writers are writing her to be pathetic and archie has never loved her is pretty delusional.

the writers aren't writing veronica with some comics betty-esque vibes just to embarrass her. they very much write her with the brand of feminism that reeks of being written by men who have patted a woman on the head and said she's cute before dismissing her entirely. and they think they're doing a bang-up job of it too.

and let's be real, they were very arrogant and obnoxious during the 2020 hiatus as well. and then they lost their shit when the season didn't end with a b/a love confession (again, something the writing never backed up but they decided it's what must be happening) and then they lost their shit after 5x08 (and again, the writing never backed up their expectations). now, the only reason they're acting like they are after the 100th is because b/a was in the promo for 6b. do i think their expectations are going to far exceed what the show is going to give them? i mean...yeah. i do.

but we have a fandom full of people (on lots of sides, tbf) that pull entire motivations and meanings out of small things and have no concept of how marketing, cinematography, subtext, text, or narratives work. so why anyone wastes their time on it instead of keeping it moving i will never know.

honestly, i have no idea why anyone pays attention to them. they said we were wrong about rivervale not being riverdale's universe, they said we were wrong about the horror genre thing (even tho it was beyond obvious based on the trailer alone), they said that archie and betty were going to be so in love and couldn't wait to be married and have a baby (uh. yeah. we all know what happened there), and they also told us that bughead was going to be pointless to the 100th while archie and betty were going to get married and live happily ever after even tho the whole climax and crux of the episode depended on bughead's interactions.

and seriously, even when they get some b/a leaning latam account giving out spoilers for 5x19 they were mostly wrong because context matters. even evan, their b/a warrior promotes episodes with little to no or flat out bad b/a content because he might like the ship but he likes the engagement a whole lot more. i get it, you know, the whole twitter stan wars they have going on but if you replace their b/archie fervor with other talking points, they all sound like performative activists who are probably low key anti-vaxxers with major puri-teen vibes. block and move on. that they're far more interested in fighting or degrading bugheads instead of enjoying their content or each other outside of feeling superior within their echo chamber just tells you what energy they're giving and no one needs to waste their time entertaining them.

[obislittleone]

Intelligent Insanity

9/?

Jerome Valeska x Reader

Okay you little sickos, here it is... as promised.

Series Summary: Two lives can start very differently, but it's never the beginning that makes the story. It's the the journey the lives take that eventually bring them down the same path.

Chapter Warnings: smut... not a lot of plot driving... just... smut.

Climbing down from the Gotham Gazette, the group of us had to hurry as to not get caught by passersby. Everyone saw what had just happened from the roof, yet the police hadn't arrived, so no one took initiative in coming up to stop us. We'd been able to cross over to another building's roof before going down the internal staircase and exiting onto the street. We made it out just in time as cops began to swarm, with the leader of them being a familiar face. Jim Gordon, the one who tried to help me.

I made a point not to look back as I ran down the slim alleyway with the rest of my crew, my boyfriend following behind me steadily.

By the time we got back to the penthouse, belonging to none other than Theo Galavan, it began to get dark. We'd all eaten quite a bit before we left to do our first act as the Maniax, but now we were beat. Criminal Insanity can be exhausting sometimes.

Theo Galavan welcomed us back with open arms and words of praises that eveing.

"You all have far exceeded my expectations, well done." He nodded to us, before dismissing us to the rooms we'd been shown to today.

When rooms were being delt out, he originally had planned on me bunking with Barbara, but then Barbara suggested I stay with Jerome, who immediately agreed. My cheeks got bright and heated when Theo insisted that it would be so.

Pulling me by the hand down the long corridor, Jerome goofed off, making me giggle like a young school girl. By the time we reached our door, I tried to be quiet, knowing the others might get upset if we were loud.

We hadn't actually been in the room yet until now, so when we walked in to see all the beautiful extravagant details, we couldn't believe something could look so fancy. It was far beyond anything either of us had ever seen before.

Jerome wasted no time in running over and jumping onto the bed, his limbs spread out like a star fish. He groaned at the softness of the bed, but the sound was muffled due to the fact that his face was buried amongst the thick comforter.

I stood and watched for a second, admiring his sweet childlike qualities in little instances such as these.

He flipped over and gave me the stank eye.

"You just gonna stare? Or are ya gonna join me?" He patted the space next to him. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, walking over and flopping down next to him. The comfort of the large bed would be enough to make me sleep days in a row.

"How could I ever sleep on any bed again after this...." Although my wording reflected a question, it was definitely a statement.

"Hopefully every bed we sleep on after this one is just as good if not better." He said with sheer confidence as he pulled me closer to him. "We're going places... Galavan is just the beginning. With our abilities, we can bring our brilliance to the whole world. It'stime to spread the word, and the word is: panic."

The way his mind worked, though similar to mine in many aspects, was far more brilliant than anyone I'd ever known. If he wasn't crazy like the rest of us, I could see him going on to be a philanthropist or politician of some sort. He was truly a genius, with talents of wide variety. I knew that he himself held the power to rule the entire world.

"You're amazing, you know that?" I asked him, and he smirked with a raised eyebrow, nodding his head.

"I do..." he admitted. Not much one for humility, but when you were so gifted, why pretend to have any sense of modesty?

I smiled at his cute reaction, and put my hand up on the side of his face, caressing it a few times before he let his eyes flutter shut. Letting my thumb graze over his lips gently, I felt a softness to them. I was tempted to lean in and plant a kiss on them, but I was enjoying the time I took to admire him.

He breathed in and out slowly, and he'd nearly fully relaxed into my touch. He was quite the hyper thing, but whenever I was able to touch him like this in small strokes, it seemed all the crazy energy he had bunched up in him went right out the window.

I was about to curl up next to him when I heard the voice of a female from the room next to us. It wasn't taking... it was-

"Is that moaning?" Jerome had popped up from his previously relaxed state, and though I was a bit disappointed he'd been disturbed, I really wanted to find out what was going on next door.

"Sounds like it." I replied, standing up off the bed, and putting my ear to the wall. It was silent for a few seconds before I heard it again, this time even louder than before. The voice was easily distinguishable. "It's Barbara."

"Barbara? Barbara and who?" He jumped from the bed as well, hurrying over to the wall. With his ear just as close as mine was, the next sound gave us the answer to his previous question, for the next moan was of someone's name.

"Tabatha..." we both said at the same time, smirking. As annoying as it was hearing the noise from their acts next door, it was a bit funny knowing we had this information over them now.

"I hope they don't go all night, I'd actually like to try sleeping in this bed." I flopped back into the pillows by the head board, and Jerome came around to sit by me.

"Yeah they're pretty loud..." he trailed off, but then his face of innocence left him, and his dark one took over without a moment's notice. "Think you can be louder?"

My eyes widened at the implication that he'd just made, but since I had nothing else on the agenda but sleep tonight, who was I to deny him?

"If you can make me."

And as soon as I'd uttered the words, he was on me. He'd completely skipped my lips, and attacked my neck with his mouth instead. He left small bites here snd there, and that was what got me to emit my first sound. It was soft, gentle... but it was only the beginning of what was yet to come.

After a minute or two, he finally locked his lips with mine, moving them in a pattern that seemed only we were capable of. He licked my bottom lip so I would part my mouth for him, letting the kiss deepen as his tongue met mine in a dance.

I began making louder sounds already, but they were muffled. He pulled back first, pulling off the Arkham jacket before shrugging it onto the floor. He tried to come back onto me before I stopped him.

"Nuh uh, this too." I demanded, pulling at the bottom hem of his shirt.

He didn't hesitate to pull the material over his head, discarding it elsewhere.

He kissed me again, while pulling me to sit up. My shirt was tucket in, so it took him a minute to rid it from my body as well. He looked down at my chest hungrily, and attached his mouth to a section of the skin. I'd begun whimpering at his touch, and the feel of his lips and hands on my body.

He started kissing down my stomach and to the spot directly between my hips. He yanked down the top of my pants, which took me by surprise, but I didn't dwell on it, lifting myself up so he could pull them the rest of the way off.

My hands had been running through his hair, but now he brought his own hands up, pinning mine down beside my waist as he started to pull down the elastic of my underwear with his teeth. The feeling in the pit of my stomach had been developing at the same rate it normally had, but when he did that.... oh lord have mercy. The effects he had on me were practically lethal, and he knew it very well. He knew how to drive me crazy without even touching me properly.

I clenched my thighs together, hoping for some friction to build up if only slightly. He still had my hands under his, so I could not touch him the way I wanted. I whimpered louder to get his attention, breathy moans of his name left my lips as I awaited his next move.

He took one hand away from mine for a second to pull the underwear completely down, then catapulted them across the room. I was just about to use my freed hand to pull him up to me, but he was quicker than I was, making sure that didn't happen.

He started at the Base of my stomach, just above the spot of me that needed most attention, and licked a long, straight line up my body. He went past my chest and landed back on my neck while his hands let go of mine to search other parts of my bare body. With all of this now, I really began to feel the need for him grow inside me like a virus. The heat was spreading fast, and the neediness turned into physical pain of not having him.

He was like a drug I was heavily addicted to... no matter how much he gave me I always came back for more. He was spellbinding, and I had been cursed to find no other thing in this world as valuable or precious to me.

I tried to pull him back, but he was simply set upon sucking the life out of me through the sweet spot on my neck.

"J, I need you.... please." I let out, barely able to form words from the moans that came out in between.

"Alright pretty girl..." he said, pulling back and making work of discarding his own pants and boxers. He couldn't have gone any slower in my opinion, or maybe he was just taunting me, teasing because he knew what I truly needed. "Don't hold back... gotta let everyone hear you tonight."

"Hold back? Me? Never." I said cooly as he hovered his body over mine, a certain authority in the way he held himself. He had power over all my body, and whatever happened next, but he gave into my pleas and gave me exactly what I needed.

He pushed in quickly, not even giving me a moment to register before he dragged out and slammed back in, harder the next time and the time after that. His thrusts were strong and full of intention, and with only a second, his name became a mantra for me. He was the only thing in my mind right now, for how could anyone possibly think of anything else when the one and only Jerome Valeska was pounding into them on a bed that cost more than their entire existence. It felt like something you would read in an erotic novel... except for the real thing was always ten times better.

He only drove deeper and deeper as the seconds turned to minutes. Each roll of his hips made me see stars, and the loud moans of immense pleasure I emitted could testify to that fact. One of his hands scooped beneath my waist, holding me closer to him while he sunk his teeth into my shoulder, while the other hand hooked around my left knee, heaving it up over his back so he could hit inside me at a new angle.

I was nearing my high, and he could easily tell just by the way my lower body began to behave. My hips bucked up against his, and my legs started to twitch every few seconds.

With only two more deep thrusts of his hips, I was able to hit the best finish of my entire life, clenching around him while his name fell from my lips one last time. It was louder than all the rest. When my walls tightened, he seemed to have reached his limit as well, slowing down and getting sloppier each time before he finally hit the max. He stayed put inside me for a few moments, slowly rolling his hips a few more times to ride it out a little longer. He'd collapsed over me, and heaved several heavy breaths while his face was still practically attached to my neck. He pressed several kisses there before pulling out and rolling off of me. He raised up on his elbow to meet my eye level, and I looked up at him with a look of pure adoration. He returned it, bringing his palm to the side of my face and stroking my cheek with his thumb like I had done for him earlier. I followed the pattern and let my eyes close. Unlike me, he had no ability to restrain himself on any level, so when the thought entered his mind to kiss me, he did it, and he did not hesitate. I smiled at the sweetness of it. The innocence it held. It was pure, and full of love. He expressed his love with every ounce of himself to me, and never did I take it for granted.

As a person who was not given love her whole life, having someone to give it to me open heartedly and without condition felt like a dream I never wanted to wake from. It surely could not have been a dream though, for the dreams I experienced at might proved my Insanity.

Jerome had pulled back from our kiss and rested his head against my chest, wrapping an arm around my waist as he snuggled deep into my skin.

"You think they heard us?" I spoke up, running my fingers through his bright red hair while leaving my gaze to the ornate ceiling.

"Sweet girl, I would not be surprised if the building next door heard us."

Tags are open!!

@gabile18 @i-sneeze-to-appease

[himitsukki]

𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙞 // 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩

warnings: none! (now edited <333)

wc: 1,927

happy birthday, my little flirefly.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

when you first met tsukishima kei, you thought he was an asshole.

now, as your boyfriend of almost two years, he’s still an asshole… that you love.

it always comes off as a surprise when you inform people about your relationship, because, quite frankly, you both seem like polar opposites: you’re a person who can calm people’s hearts with just your presence. you always try to  offer help, and you try your best to be nice, because you know the world needs it. and, it’s always free of charge.

tsukishima, on the other hand…

“i told that bastard to get away from you at lunch.“

“kei!“ you scold him with his name. “i told you before, he’s not doing anything bad!“ your boyfriend continues to complain about your classmate who “keeps staring at you”, ranting so fast that you can barely understand his words through the sounds of the video chat.

despite the fact that he always picks the video chat option over the voice call whenever he calls you at night, it’s almost always just him doing his homework, with his phone leaned against the wall, or him doing his chores from around the house, with the back camera on and his phone tucked into the waistband of his shorts; you can’t recall having a total “proper” one-on-one video chat with him, with your phones directly in front of you and replicating a face-to-face conversation .

you’ve grown accustommed to his antics, however, and grown to love how it feels so domestic to just casually ask each other about your days. you even keep track of his chores in the tsukishima hoursehold, especially after the incident when his mother told him to turn the oven off after fifteen minutes and he forgot because he was in the middle of arguing what the correct answer was to that day’s homework.

you’re currently folding laundry on your bed and decided that while you’re at it, you’ll reorganize your entire wardrobe. you had your phone rested on top of two pillows and leaned against the headboard, you took a seat by the lower half of the bed to have you visible in your camera, but with various clothes thrown atop your sheets and pillows and even draping on your headboard, you’ve lost sight of your phone. you can only hear the slightly muffled voice of your boyfriend, now that it’s buried somewhere deep in your clothes.

“hurry up already, we still have homework to do.“

“i’m sorrryy!“ you whined, quickening your pace at folding your shirts into a neat pile. “i don’t know why i even decided to do this, this is a complete waste of time.”

“at least your closet will be organized,“ he tries to reason. you whine that it’ll only stay that way for a couple of weeks, and he tells you you’re an idiot because you’ll be the one at fault for that.

“just the jackets and sweatshirts left, then i’ll be done,“ you inform him after a few minutes of silence. it’s not rare for the two of you to be silent while calling each other; both of you actually enjoy the silence, and neither of you feel obligated to fill the silence with talking, especially if it’s just about nonsense. it’s just nice that he’s still with you despite the day having ended and that he’s one bus ride away from you.

“do you still have that jacket? the one i gave you when you dug out my closet a few weeks ago?“

“uhh...” you ruffle through the remaining clothes on top of your bed. “is it the purple one? with the cresent moon at the—“

“—back of the hood? yeah.“ you fished out the said jacket and tried it on, enjoying the impossibly soft material that’s only possible through years of constant wearing. 

it fits perfectly.

“it still bothers me how ten year old you and current me most likely have the same size.“

“you’re just small and short,“ he snorts. “i bet it’s even slightly loose on you, especially at the sleeves.“

“yeah,“ you agree as you pull the cuff of the sleeve to their maximum potential without stretching the fabric too much. “it’s hanging just a little bit past the tips of my fingers.“

“you’re forever a shortcake, [name].“

“listen, i never asked to be short, okay?“ you complain, but you can’t deny that you’re smiling as you joke around with your boyfriend.

it’s beyond comforting that he’d given you his clothing from his childhood. you didn’t even ask for it (as you do with his other clothing), but you remember organizing his closet and seeing a pile of clothes that he “kept” from childhood, and when you asked him about it, he pulled out what he said was his favorite,  gave it to you with a teasing smirk and said “you’d definitely fit in this.“

“hey,“ he starts. “hurry up.“ you dismiss him by sticking out your tongue even though you know he doesn’t see you, but tsukishima knows you too much to actually do that reaction, then scolds you for being childish while teasing you about doing that even he can’t even see it.

“heeeeey.” he drags. “it’s almost nine pm.”

“i know, i only have the jackets left. sorry,” you mumbled a genuine apology, aware that tsukishima’s tired from class and volleyball practice. how he’s able to balance being a student athlete while claiming to “not care about the sport”, you’ll never know.

“hey,” he starts once again.

“last two jackets, i promise—“

“i love you.“ you nearly drop the last jacket from your hands and look over where your phone is, finally locating it with it’s screen facing the sheets; his voice was low and muffled, but you heard it loud and clear. slowly, you reached for your phone, turned it over and see him properly facing the camera, his head turned to the side with his eyes checking up his screen for your reaction every few seconds.

“that’s unfair, you’re telling me that over call? and i wasn’t even in the video chat?“

“it’s rare that i even tell you ‘i love you’ and you complain about it?” he asks, his voice monotonous but his lips growing into a small that you’ve only seen him do when he’s really happy. “unbelievable.“

“i’m done with the clothes,“ you announce, placing your phone back to its initial spot as you transfer the piles of clothes back into your closet.

“great, it only took you almost an hour, congrats shortcake.“

“thanks, asshole. you’re the best boyfriend ever.“

the night continues on with doing your homework together (and fighting over which formula to use because you’re in different classes and have different teachers, for some reason) and just before you get ready for sleep, you let the call run a little longer as you do your night time routine.

“do you actually do this everyday?“ he asks when you tell him every step of your skincare routine. “i only do the basics. that’s so tiring to do everyday.”

“you’re complaining and you’re not even the one doing it… ‘kay then.“ you jokingly roll your eyes at him as you gently pat your final layer of moisturizer on your skin. “at least i’m taking care of my skin. they’re a wonderful organ.“

“okay, weirdo.“

he proceeds to continually pester you to go to bed as it’s almost eleven, and you both have to get up at five so you can meet up an hour later at his house (his mom adores you) and walk to school together, but you ignore him and his groans of complaint as you slow your pace to annoy him even further (then he threatens to end the call, so you run to your bedroom and flop down on your bed immediately.)

“end the call. i’m tired, i wanna sleep.“

“you know you’re suppossed to go all “nooo, i don’t wanna end the call” or “you end the call, hehe” right, kei?“ he glares at you through the screen, and you can only laugh in response since his cheeks are squished on one side of his face as  he’s lying down on his side. instead of intimidating, he looks adorable.

“i’m too tired to even lift a finger,“ he says as he closes his eyes. for almost a minute, you let the call drag on, enjoying the comforting sound of his breathing and the sight of his relaxed face.

it’s rare enough to see him so unguarded and at ease; it’s in moments like these where you continuously remind yourself to appreciate and be thankful of every little thing in your relationship. 

that being said…

“hey,“ you start. he hums a reply, but you won’t take that as an answer.

“hey,“ you start once again.

“what? i was already enjoying the silenc—“

“i love you.” the second you see his eyes open, you rush to greet him a goodnight as best as you can without giggling before immediately ending the call and muting your notifications for that app until five am.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

tomorrow starts smoothly with a wake-up call from tsukishima, your monring already complete with the sight of his bloated face and crusty eyes. he knows that you don’t care about his appearance, so he lets you see his worst visuals (in your eyes, however, he’s still unfairly handsome with all of that.)

you quickly got ready for the day; time flew by fast, and soon you’re ringing the doorbell at his gate, waving and greeting at his mom (who’s also the same thing) and greeting your boyfriend a good morning by taking out his (well, now your) jacket from last night.

he eyes you as you put it on. he’s unable to surpress his smile when he sees that the sleeves are, indeed, hanging a bit past your fingertips.

“i told you, you’re be forever a shortcake.”

“you’ve called me "shortcake” so many times, it doesn’t really mean like an insult anymore,“ you noted out loud, looking up at him through your lashes. "it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.”

“well you are a shortcake, shortcake.”

“annoying,” you playfully chide him with a roll of your eyes. at that action, he scoffs and grabs you by the sleeves, pulling you closer and reminding you to bring out your (matching) headphones since he’ll be plugging in the audio splitter.

“what do you wanna listen to?” you hum as you think about it, but tell him to go for whatever he feels like.

you let the clean tones from the guitar relax you, enveloping you in an atmosphere where you feel like you’re starring in an anime or some kind of movie. honestly, you feel as you are in one, because you know your type of  relationship isn’t all that usual, complete opposites and all. 

with the leaves turning orange and falling slowly around you, the visuals only supplement the atmosphere, the song sounding like the OST to your and tsukishima’s story.

suddenly, you feel his finger nudging itself between the gaps of your fingers and trapping one of them in it’s grasp. looking down, you see his pinky bent at the joints to hold your little finger captive. it’s shaped like a crescent. 

looking up, you see him audibly clearing his throat, awkwardly looking away when he sees you noticing. the faint blush on his cheeks makes you laugh, and you feel the atmosphere increase tenfold.

you’ll happily be in any movie, only if it’s him by your side.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ☼ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

m.list

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Escaping Expulsion" From The Owl House

Salutations random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Do you wanna know what I love the most about The Owl House? The writers waste no time getting to the good stuff.

Things like Willow working things out with Amity, Lumity, Lilith's redemption, and Luz's fight with Belos are stuff that most shows would drag out and wait upon using until several seasons down the line. Most of them for the final season. And yet, it all happens in the first! The writers somehow knew what the fans exactly wanted and gave them just that before they even had to ask.

Take "Escaping Expulsion," for example, as it has some great plot points and ideas I thought would happen later in the season and maybe even near the end. But it's only episode TWO of the new season, and I'm appreciative of it for that reason alone.

But explaining the good stuff this episode delivers requires spoilers, so if you haven't watched the episode yet (even though you definitely have at this point), I recommend that you do so. Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Blight Industries: Huh. I'll be the first to admit: I would have never expected that the main reason why the Blights are rich is because of their technological advancements. Large in part of how the Boiling Isles is a fantasy world, and rarely do you see technology taking place in a setting such as that. Still, points for total expectation subversion added with some pretty cool tech, I might add.

Odalia Blight: It's nice to put a face to the name I've grown to hate with a fiery passion. Now I can update my dartboard!

But to tell you the truth, it feels weird saying I like someone so vile. I mean, the woman is a manipulative, smarmy b-word who nearly killed Luz. Anybody who does that last part deserves to go on my s**t list! I despise her with the same fiery passion I've had since "Understanding Willow" premiered...and it's that reason why I like her.

Because here's the thing: Characters and people are two different things. If Odalia existed in real life, she better hope that I never meet her. But as a character whose purpose is to have the audience hate her, she succeeds with flying colors. It's the same reason why I consider it unfair to hate an episode like "Something Ventured and Someone Framed" because Mattholomule exists. I get it but understand that hating him is his purpose. It's the same with Odalia. I love her, but only because I love to hate her.

Alador Blight: Wow. I guess Alador really is the lesser of two evils.

By the way, keep in mind that I said "lesser of two evils" and not "the nice one." I don't care how adorable it is to see him get distracted by a butterfly. He's still an abusive figure who stood aside as Luz fought for her life against the Abomitron and still goes along with Odalia's plans despite how heinous they are. And whenever I remember how he treated Amity in "Understanding Willow" as well--

Also, don't make him neurodivergent so he can seem redeemable. It is painfully obvious that he is just exhausted after hours of toiling away in his lab working on his inventions to the point that his brain is beyond fried.

Now, seeing that I've dismissed the argument about how Alador is the nice one, let's actually talk about his character. Because I can see what Dana Terrace meant when she said that he's interesting. He's not explicitly as awful as Odalia, as he mostly seems to be in his own little world half the time. Despite that, Alador still shows signs of being just as dismissive of Amity in general. You see this as he focuses on how her strength shows signs of Amity being a potential coven leader instead of noticing how his daughter nearly died to his own invention. Alador doesn't manipulate, but he doesn't love his daughter in a way a father should either. I'm very intrigued by this route for his character, and I can't wait to see what is done next with him.

Amity’s Amulet: My heart sank when I realized the true purpose behind Amity's amulet. The thought that Odalia found a way to literally be in Amity's head at all times...I hate that. I mean, I love it because it's A+ storytelling and symbolism, BUT I F**KING HATE IT!

Amity in General: And seeing how we're already talking about Amity, let's dive into the fact that "Escaping Expulsion" is easily her best outing so far in the series. I say this because it really puts to the test Amity's dedication to being a part of the group. You can tell by her expressions and Mae Whitman's performance that Amity so desperately wants to help her friends, but she can't due to being afraid of her mother's wrath. Which doesn't surprise me, given what we know about Odalia so far. But what does surprise me is that Amity stands up to Odalia in this very same episode. I expected it for sure, but most likely at the end of the season, due to most shows dragging out a similar concept for drama's sake. However, as I said, the writers don't waste time giving the fans what they want. So, yeah, Amity defies her mother in the very same episode we're officially introduced to her. And it's totally believable, as Amity has been fighting her parent's control ever since Luz literally showed her the light after "Covention" (click here if you don't believe me). It's yet another impressive showcase of Amity's character development and how she's leagues ahead of other redeemable characters who would go through five more episodes like this before getting to the point.

Luz in General: But enough about Amity. For now, let's talk about the actual best character of the series!

Just like Amity, Luz is on top form in "Escaping Expulsion." She is quick to call 'applesauce' about Odalia and Alador expelling the Hex-Squad and is smart enough to figure out the deal Odalia is worming her way into making. Several people classify Luz as stupid, and while she definitely leaps before she looks at times, this episode proves that Luz isn't going to fall for the sweet talk that someone like Odalia offers. As reckless as she can be, Luz is still intelligent enough to know what someone like Odalia wants and cuts to the chase despite knowing the woman can't be trusted. Still, Luz going through with the deal anyways is fantastic character work for her as it shows her dedication to the people she cares about. It hurts my heart to see Luz get all beat up from Alador's inventions, but her willingness to put up with it for her friends is an act of service I wouldn't have expected from anyone else. "Escaping Expulsion" may be more centered around Amity, but it still proves why Luz earns her spot for one of my favorite characters.

Learning How Glyphs Work: Another solid aspect of The Owl House is that the writers find brilliant ways for world-building and explaining the rules of the Boiling Isles. Take this episode's b-plot, for instance. Eda and Lilith need to learn how to do Luz's version of magic, so having an entire section of the episode dedicated to them figuring it out is a perfect outlet to explain how glyphs work in the first place. Although, I have some tribulations with this subplot that I'll get into with the dislikes. But I still consider this a brilliant workaround to explain glyphs, even if specific executions could be handled better.

The Fairy Pie: Not only is this well-crafted dark humor, and not only is it adorable as hell, but it also shows how Amity has calmed down with her feelings toward Luz. She still blushes when handing over the fairy pie, but it is certainly more subdued in comparison to "Wing it Like Witches." I like to think the time off from her (and our) favorite weirdo helped cool down those emotions a bit, but that doesn't mean she won't get slightly flustered every now and again. Because as much as I adore seeing cool and collective, I'm still very much a fan of Disaster Amity due to how cute it is.

Principle Bump: "This character is underappreciated!"

"That character doesn't get enough love!"

YOU WANNA KNOW WHO'S UNDERAPPRECIATED AND DOESN'T GET ENOUGH LOVE?! PRINCIPAL GOSH DANG BUMP, THAT'S WHO!

So many kids' shows focus on how educators are the bad guy who treats students poorly because they love seeing children suffer. But that's not Bump! Sure, he made a misstep in "The First Day," but for the most part, he really cares for his students and hopes that they work hard to be their better selves. So when he's forced to send Luz, Gus, and Willow away, he's genuinely saddened by it to the point where he breaks down crying! On top of being wholesome, Bump missing his students is another example that a character shouldn't be written as evil just because they run a school. Sure, there are scumbag teachers and principals out there, but for others, they're a lot like Bump: People who show admiration and respect to their students rather than ridicule because a principle "just doesn't get it." And I appreciate Bump all the more for it.

Gus and Willow: It feels weird that these two basically got sidelined, especially since they have a stake in the plot as well, but it's understandable. "Escaping Expulsion" is clearly more Amity-centered, and with Luz being the main character, it would also be odd if she didn't get more of the focus than her friends. Having them do more would have been great, but what they've already accomplished is pretty decent anyway. They show how much they're on the same page as Luz when trying to figure out a way to sneak back into Hexide, Willow is still the best voice of reason when saying no one will be killed through their plans, and Gus wins the comedic highlights in the episode. While I would have loved that they did more, I'm perfectly fine with what we got. Besides, this is only episode two of Season Two. We got nineteen more episodes to go to focus on these two.

King: Ok, now, this is the version of King I like to see. A character that mocks Eda as if they're equals and acts as a reluctant voice of reason. This episode shows King more at his best and is a major step above what we've seen in "Separate Tides."

Lilith: ...Yeah, f**k it. I like Lilith.

Personally, I would have preferred seeing her dragged through the coals at least a few episodes, but that's judging the show for what I want. Not what it is. And as is...It's fine. Lilith has a great dynamic with the rest of the Owl House, it's honestly adorable seeing her refer to Luz as a teacher, and that scene where she makes presents out of ice for Hooty is all kinds of wholesome. I'd say your enjoyment of Lilith highly depends on how forgiving you are, and if you think her splitting the curse is enough of a gesture, you probably won't mind her as much. The execution of her redemption really could have used more time in the oven, but Lilith is still a decent character regardless, so what's to complain about.

Luz Making the Abomination Have a Cat Face: ...Luz...I f**king missed you.

DON'T EVER LEAVE FOR THAT LONG AGAIN!

(Also, I just love that this is all Amity needed to know Luz was in trouble)

Hop Pop Cameo: He's on the cover of one of the books Willow's dad lifts up. Which is extra cute given how Dana Terrace and Matt Braley (creator of Amphibia) are close friends in real life.

Willow’s Dad Pretending Not to See Anything: One single action defines the type of man this guy is. He's the fun and understanding dad!

Gus, Willow, and Amity Arguing How to Break In: This little quarrel just shows how much these three need Luz. Without someone to keep the peace and bring up compromises, these idiots would have just kept arguing all night.

In addition to that, this clash over ideas acts as a showcase for who these characters are. Willow is careful and smart, so she's going for the option more unlikely to get them caught. Amity is brash and to the point, so she's going for the route that gets them inside as soon as possible. And then there's Gus, who's young and naive, so his plan sounds like something out of a cartoon. The odds of any of these plans working are highly debatable, but seeing these characters with clashing personalities and ideas is a ton of fun to watch regardless.

Edric and Emira Helping: There's not much to add here. It's just another sweet scene that makes me so glad that the writers decided to make Ed and Em more like supporting characters than minor antagonists like "Lost in Language" made fans think they would be.

(Amity throwing the "Hex me" signs back at Edric is just the cherry on top).

“Stay away from my Luz!”: ...What the f**k do you want me to say that? It's f**king perfect!

Luz Catching Feelings for Amity: ...Huh. Neat.

...

...Alright, let's move on.

Luz Wanting to Take a Nap After--Yeah, I can't do it. Not even for the joke.

WAH-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! MU! TU! AL! PINING! AH-HAHAHA!

THIS! This is more of that good s**t I'm talking about! Due to being so used to other shows going for the slow burn when writing the endgame romance, I was expecting Luz to catch feelings halfway through the season, even at the end of it. But near the beginning?! That is something I am more than ok with!

And much like Amity standing up to her parents in this episode, Luz catching feelings this early on is totally believable. Many fans have already analyzed how Luz's love language is "Acts of Service," which I'm somewhat sure is romantic gestures. Meaning that I f**king challenge you to find a grander gesture than holding back a literal killing machine while swooping down like a knight in shining armor! Oh, wait, you can't. BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ANY!

But by far, the best--the BEST--thing that can come from this is the dramatic irony! We, the audience, know that Luz and Amity like each other, but they don't. So the constant failings as these two fools try to work out their romantic feelings for one another is something I cannot wait to see in all its glory.

This is one of the best things that could have come out of the episode, and while it doesn't mean Lumity is canon, it is definitely closer than ever before. And I'm excited about all of it!

Luz Wanting to Take a Nap After Getting Home: I adore this because there's no one way that this can be interpreted. Either it's because Luz is exhausted after nearly getting killed for the fifteenth time that month, or it's because Luz is overwhelmed about having a crush on Amity...or both. Most likely both.

Belos Wanting The Abomatrons: Wow, what an ominous ending to the episode! I'm sure it won't come into play at all in the future...The season finale is going to hurt, isn't it?

WHAT I DISLIKED

Gus’ Growth Spurt: I mean...that's just weird. Gus suddenly being almost as tall as the others is a change so jarring that I feel like an explanation other than "witch puberty" is required. I get that they wanted to explain away why Issac Ryan Brown's voice got deep this season, 'cause puberty's a b**ch. But sometimes I feel like it's best to just ignore it, like with how Phineas and Ferb or Steven Universe just goes along with the fact that VAs tend to grow up when the characters themselves remain ageless.

Eda is Kinda Stupid in this One: It's not just me, right? Because I feel like Eda is more careful in the past than she is in this episode. She's been as reckless as Luz is at times, sure, but carelessly screwing around with magic when she has no idea how it works? I can maybe see King doing that, but not Eda. Just seeing her act dumber than usual is something that doesn't sit right with me.

Lilith Explaining Her Glyph Magic: I don't mind this. Glyph magic is pretty confusing, so having Lilith explain how it works to Eda and the audience is something I can understand. My issue, however, lies in how they did this.

Why, in the name of all that is holy, would Lilith explain her theory after the fact. It would be much more natural if she explained while saving King, but doing it after comes across as more forced than it should. Which is a shame because this series is usually on point when explaining how things work in the Boiling Isles.

And...That's about all the complaints I have with this episode. Which are nothing but nitpicks and possibly personal preferences.

IN CONCLUSION

If I'm willing to forgive and forget, I would give "Escaping Expulsion" a well-earned A+. But I'm not, so it's going to be another solid A. And, I mean, if you complain about that...there's something wrong with you.

"Escaping Expulsion" delivers on quite a bit of what fans want to see on top of giving these great character moments that show why we love these casts of oddballs and weirdos. I wouldn't say it reached perfection, but it still carries the winning streak that this new season has so far. Meaning there's no escaping the fact that Season Two is off to a better start than the first.

(Although, the fact that we got two solid As in a row means that we're in for a stinker real soon, doesn't it?)

[fairestwriting]

title: half doomed and semi-sweet

word count: 5308

summary: Idia's bad luck comes back to haunt him again, being dragged into physically showing up to class and being assigned a group project involving a student from a different year, courtesy of Mr. Trein. His... "best friend", Kero Tricarenia, sees his distress in the situation, and swoops in to save him, though that might be what actually ends him instead of the project...

commissioned by @chibichibisha  , available on ao3 here ! tysm for the commission, i hope you like it! you have no idea how excited i was to write kero asjkdfsf-

my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested !

Of course that in the day Idia is made to actually show up to class, something like this happens.

The fact that it’s Trein’s class just makes it somehow worse. Of course, it’s not all bad, he gets to see Lucius napping on the teacher’s desk—! ...but, he also gets to be pestered by Cater the second he’s walking in, and then the second he’s walking out, plus, just the presence of all these people… Idia shudders just thinking about it.

He pulls his hoodie closer to his face, trying to shield it in vain. He just wanted to go back to his room. Trein was the worst for making him actually show up. He’d been attending classes through the tablet for so long, what was the issue with today specifically? Why couldn’t he just do it the way he always does? He just doesn’t get it—

“Before class is dismissed,” Trein starts in that voice of his, commanding yet with a hint of a drawl that makes Idia want to delve into eternal slumber. “I have an announcement to make. Due to recent events, the headmaster has assigned the teachers the task of building… teamwork, and solidarity, between students, even the ones in different years, and I’ve been chosen to apply that, so your monthly History assignment will work somewhat differently this time.”

Great. Awesome. These were his favorite words in the whole world. As if today couldn’t get any worse.

“I’ll need you to gather a pair or trio with students from different years, to build a mockup representing a historical event of your choosing. You’re supposed to inform me of your groups until tomorrow's class, and the deadline will be held two weeks from now, on February 13th. You’ll be presenting your works the day after.”

Idia feels the clammy hands of dread on both his ankles, threatening to pull him under. Of course this would get worse somehow. He exhales a deep sigh, burying his face on his hands… he’d have to email Mr. Trein about doing the assignment by himself later. And it’d be such an unpleasant conversation, with how he insisted on having students follow all these traditional learning methods.

Really, why the hell were they getting group projects now, out of all things? They had one foot out of school, basically. Fourth year barely had any classes, most of the students’ times filled up with internships and research so what did they get out of trying to “develop teamwork skills” within their students? None of these people would be talking to each other by the time they graduate, anyways… they were wasting resources to max out a stat that didn’t matter.

He tugs the hood of his jacket over his face again as he walks out of the classroom, sneaking outside like he’s avoiding to get scolded — The blue glow of his hair insisting on sticking out, Idia feels his heart race and squeeze while he makes his way across the crowded hallways. He swears he hears Cater’s voice calling for him as he leaves, too… but maybe he’s just making it up, because of how especially cursed he feels today.

What an awful morning, really. At least locking himself up with that MMO he’s gotten hooked on recently would feel even more cathartic.

After the nerve-wracking walk, Trein’s words poking at him like imps with their tridents — Him trying to figure out how to convince that teacher to let him do everything by himself, no presentation included, without having to actually face the guy — Idia finally gets back to his dorm. Finally.

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding — Just like in the fanfics, geez — when he steps into the lounge, though even the mostly vacant blue and white space felt a little oppressive now. Sure, he cared about his dormmates, they were fine people, but they were still people, and what he really needed now, was…

“IDIA!”

...within one second of the click of his door being unlocked, Idia is reminded once again that he never will know peace.

“K-Kero!” He yelps, suddenly overwhelmed by a hug, arms around his entire body squeezing him tight, maybe too tight— It’s a second before he remembers this is in fact supposed to be his room. “W-Wait, what are you doing here? That’s my room!”

Unleashed from the mighty grip, red eyes meet Idia’s as Kero’s head tilts, a smile on his face flashing his sharp teeth.

“I know that! I was looking for you.” He just announces, following right behind with that skip on his step as Idia enters and locks the door behind them. He hadn’t seen Kero in… how long, now? It’d been a while, that much he knew. Idia had been busy lately, with… “You finished that tournament yesterday night, right? How did you do? I got you that cake from the cafeteria you like to celebrate!” His questions are rapid-fire, tail wagging as he rushes towards Idia’s unmade bed to pick up the little packaged treat he’d gotten.

“You don’t even know how it went yet, but you’re already getting your hopes up.” Idia grumbles, but the second the package is placed on his hands, he does gracefully accept it. “Well, my team did win, so…”

“Yes! I knew you would!” Kero cheers, grinning again as he sits on his bed. He’s… so full of energy it’s hard to watch, Idia would say.

But, well, that would kind of be a huge lie.

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me be for a bit so I could practice.” He mutters, moving to sit on his desk chair. The package makes a crinkling plastic noise while he messes with it, opening it to reveal a slice of strawberry shortcake — That has him glancing at Kero for a second, a fuzzy feeling taking over.

...because that’s just what his emotions do now.

It was stupid, Idia’s sighing tiredly just thinking about it — When it started was beyond him, but for some reason or another, something keeps pulling him towards Kero. It’s not exactly a big deal, some sort of soul-binding string of fate or something like that, but even when he’s not there physically, Kero lingers, flashes of sharp teeth and boisterous laughing in Idia’s mind. It’s not a big deal! But it’s like Kero had hanged around him so much he left a mark.

And Idia doesn’t really hate that. He stares at the cake in his hands, and thinks of Kero smiling as he got it for him, without any sort of request, just because he saw the cake and remembered that he liked it, and his mind stresses just how much he doesn’t hate that.

(...well, it was a sort of doomed thing, they would never move on from this strange affectionate friendship, because Idia isn’t going to… tell Kero he’s crushing on him, or anything like that. That’d just screw everything up. And what he has now isn’t actually bad at all. Really, it’s fine if Kero never understands. It’s fine. )

“Are you… good, though? Do you need anything?” Kero asks, snapping him out of the messy daydreams with another good natured tilt of his head — He’s a dog alright. “You… just look kinda gloomy and stuff.”

Idia snickers, shaking his head. “Yeah, like I ever look different.” He mumbles, and takes a bite of cake. It’s sweet, he thinks, making a surprised noise as he wonders when the last time he had it was… he licks some whipped cream off his fingers. “Mm, this time is different though. Something with a group project from Mr. Trein… tires me out just to think about it.” He sighs. But Kero’s ears perk up, pointing straight upwards.

“Oh! That, yeah. He told 2-D about it today too.”

“Yeah. This sucks. I’m just gonna… find a way to work by myself.” Idia shakes his head, sinking on his chair a little further. He bites into the cake again. “You think Mr. Trein knows how to read emails?” He snickers, but the thought of having to meet him face-to-face makes his skin crawl. “...ugh, I d-don’t wanna have to talk to him during office hours…”

Kero hums in slightly concerned acknowledgement, plopping down on his bed with attentive eyes. Idia finds himself in a weird wondering of how it felt like to sit down when you were a beastman. Did it hurt his tail or something? It’s wagging against the mattress, though. His ears point to opposite sides while he looks up vaguely. Idia muses about what he might be thinking about.

“Well, you could always do it with me! They said to get one of your underclassmen, right.” Kero suggests, and… Idia swears he sees his tail wag a little harder, but that could very well just be a trick of the light. “I can do the presentation too, and I’m good with building things, so…” He grins. “Plus, you won’t have to… talk to Mr. Trein.”

Idia hums through a mouthful of cake. Well, doing the project with Kero would certainly be better than with someone he didn’t know. However, it’s…

His eyes linger on Kero’s expectant form on his bed, smiling so cheerfully. He’s very aware of the couple feet of distance between them right now, and even like this, Kero’s presence does things to his heart… that’s bad, so bad, he thinks, it’s hard to ignore how his heartbeat is just a tad faster now, summed with this different flavor of nervousness that just seemed to simmer in his blood now… yeah, it’s no good.

“I m-mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind that.” Is what he stutters out. Kero beams.

Stupid cute Kero. This isn’t helping Idia convince himself none of this is a big deal.

“Yeah! If you’re doin’ a project you might as well do it with your best friend, right?” He says. Here he is again with the best friend talk… oh, if only he knew. “We can have fun with it too. Actually, I can have fun with everything as long as I’m with you, heh.”

Idia feels heat creeping up his neck. Stupid cute Kero! “Ugh, you d-don’t gotta be embarrassing about it.” He mumbles, eyes averted. The cake finished with one last bite, Idia places the empty package on his desk, licking leftover cream off his fingers again. “We’re just putting some annoying mockup together. It’s not a big deal. If we add some simple machines to it to make it cooler it’ll already be higher-res than everyone else’s, it’s just an easy A. Everyone else’s just gonna use magic, I bet.”

“Yeah, obviously. I mean it doesn’t have to be annoying, though.” Kero comments. “We’ve gotta choose a historical event, right? Do you have any ideas?”

“Uhhh. The industrial revolution of the Isle of Lamentation? That’s… pretty much all I paid attention to this year, anyways.” He shrugs. Trein’s classes were boring, naturally. And they were so early in the morning, too… his tablet may have been there most of the time, but Idia himself was passed out on his bed.

“I think that works! We’ll have to make a bunch of stuff for the machines. But that’ll be fun.”

Idia hums. He’s thinking about these machines, actually, the miniature factories they could put together. The blueprints begin to write themselves up rather quickly. “We’d blow their little minds if we just had some… smoke coming out of the chimneys, some gears spinning around. Fuhihi, our mockup might be the best.” With his head in the clouds — Or the laboratory, rather — he finds himself grinning, waving a finger in the air. “Hey, Kero, what do you th… huh?”

And Kero isn’t on his bed anymore. He’s right there, in front of him.

Before Idia can say anything about this (Kero right in front of him, leaning in closer, he feels so cornered, his heart might stop!) Kero leans in even further, a big hand coming up to his face and (He’s going to die, definitely, he’ll die right here.) and he wipes off some whipped cream from near Idia’s lips.

“You had some on your face! Heheh.” He chuckles, licking it off his thumb. Idia feels like his blood pressure has just plummeted, or… or maybe it just did the opposite, how is he supposed to tell? His face feels so hot there’s no way his brain is getting the proper oxygen at all, he can barely think—!

“G-Give me a warning before you do something like this!” Idia wheezes, high pitched like a squeaky toy, and Kero just laughs again, grinning with this hint of mischief. “I didn’t even see you move!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were distracted? I’m happy you’re excited about the project, though. I think it’s cute.” He says outright, and Idia… Idia just puts his hands on his face, averting his eyes with intent. Why does Kero have to be... so... much? “C’mon, you can sit with me on the bed. We can talk better like this.” A strong hand grabs at his wrist, easily looping around it as he pulls at Idia, making him squeak again as he’s dragged towards the bed.

“This doesn’t even make any sense!” Idia complains, but Kero tugs him towards the bed with no effort at all, and he just accepts his fate, huffing like it’d ease the warmth crawling all over his face. “Ugh, a-anyway, I was talking about the factories we’d put on the mockup… I thought of having some machines with exposed insides, with the spinning gears would be good, and conveyor belts that function…”

As he launches into explanation, Kero nods, making this unbreakable eye contact. Idia has to stop and take a deep breath every couple minutes, the situation somehow overwhelming. It feels like his condition just got a little worse every day, huh.

(Well, it’s fine. He could just avoid him if things got bad. Though… he doesn’t like thinking about this, recalling the week before the game tournament even. It’s kind of stupid, if he’s just making Idia nervous why does he have this need to keep him around? As expected, emotions make little to no sense...)

“...so, basically that’s what I thought.” Idia ends the explanation. Kero still has his attentive look on his face, almost like it froze there. “Did you pay attention?”

“Nah. I was just looking at you while you talked, ‘cause you looked so pretty.” Kero leans in with a smirk (Can he please stop trying to kill Idia, he’s just gotten down to a normal-ish heart rate again!) that then turns into one of his usual friendly smiles. “Kidding! I did, yeah. Do you wanna start it tomorrow?”

“You…! Uh, um, I don’t know. I wanna play my new game.” He stumbles with speaking, but it still comes out. At least. “We could probably finish that in, what, two days at most? If you don’t mind going to the lab late at night.”

“Roger that. For Idia, I’ll go to the ends of Twisted Wonderland!” He declares, fist thumping against his chest with a proud grin. “I’ll get us your snacks too. Can’t have you going hungry. But now I gotta go to track.”

Idia blinks. Already? He remembers that club meetings do in fact exist. He’d been skipping on his lately so he ended up kind of… forgetting them. Seeing Kero go, though, it’s…

“R-Right, I hope you, uh… enjoy yourself.” He stutters. Then he wants to hit himself on the face, really, what kind of stupid farewell was that? Just say bye and go back to your games, idiot. Luckily, Kero doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Yeah, yeah, I will!” He chimes, getting up from the bed — Leaning down a little, he puts a hand over Idia’s flaming hair, ruffling it to his surprise. “I’ll see you, okay? Literally. I’m coming over again later, ‘cause after all this time I’m not leaving my best friend alone!”

Idia feels frozen in place while Kero pets him, eyes zeroed in on that grin — Before he leaves, and he exhales. Again. That breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He doesn’t play the game yet. Instead, he lays face down on the bed and screams into the pillow, whatever feelings had been simmering while Kero was around just exploding the second he leaves. Great Seven, he was so stupid. Both of them, actually.

Kero was stupid for not seeing how much this crush was clearly consuming him, and Idia… Idia was stupid for getting involved in any of this at all, in so many ways and for so many reasons, but he just can’t bring himself to stop now.

He swears it’s not that big of a deal. But it’s a lie, obviously. Clearly.

. . .

Once he’s back into his room after practice, Kero shuts his door behind him, and he laughs.

He feels the strain on his body from the running, sure, but every bit of it is somehow also filled with so much energy — With his hands on his face like how Idia does when he’s shy, he grins so much his cheeks hurt with the pulling. His heart won’t stop racing.

Who let him be so adorable!

He knew they’d end up doing this project together, of course. When Trein mentioned it’d involve students from different years, Idia was the first person Kero thought of! But the reality still makes him so giddy. To think he’d have a chance to do a project with him! He’s really been too lucky these days. Trein was… something else, to him, but with something like this, he might be willing to overlook the fact that the guy was absolutely terrifying.

Well, what matters is that he gets some more time with Idia — Even better, they’d be alone together! — The tournament week sucked, straight up. Kero ran some errands for him but it just wasn’t the same! Though he didn’t mind this sort of caretaking either, Idia barely took breaks. He didn’t even tell him much about the game he was playing, actually. Kero was basically crawling up the walls with how bored he’d gotten.

But that’s irrelevant now.

Still grinning and laughing to himself with all that burst of energy running through his skin, Kero hops over to his desk — With how he was, Idia would probably have some blueprints for the machines ready soon, but this was a nice chance to impress. He gathers some parts and tools, and gets to work.

...work that takes longer to complete than it usually does for him, but as expected, through the following days, Idia texts him vague guidelines on what their mockup should be like, ideas and half-baked blueprints that they discuss both through the phone and when he shows up at Idia’s place, and when the fated day of getting together at Ignihyde’s laboratory arrives, he has all those trinkets on his desk. He’s so ready.

ill see you there at 2, Idia’s text reads, bring the stuff i told u to make

Yes, yes, right away! Kero smiles bright as he gathers the miniature machines into a shoe box he’d gotten for them. He can feel his tail wag with excitement even as he carries it through the gloomy late-night corridors.

The door opened with a bang — Oops, he definitely handled it too roughly — Kero chimes as soon as he sets foot into the lab. “Idia!” He calls when he arrives. “I’m here!”

“Eek!” Idia, who was already leaned over the table, spreading scratchy blueprints and machine parts on it, is startled in a jolt. “D-Don’t sneak up on me like this! Geez…”

“Heheh, sorry, sorry.” Kero laughs, setting the box near the other items on the table, which Idia eagerly turns to inspect, complaints or not. Well, if that was the case, he’d inspect Idia for a bit too. He was looking unusual today, after all! Without that heavy jacket of his, wearing his lab wear and striped shirt. Kero’s heart leaps. “You’re looking good today, huh! ‘s unusual to see you looking like this, like… one of these R cards from your gacha games, or something.”

Kero feels proud of himself for the comment — Hey, Idia, look at me, I pay attention to your rambling! But Idia makes an offended noise instead.

“T...The R cards are the common ones, stupid.” He scoffs, giving him a narrow eyed look, but there’s still a soft flush of pink over his cheeks. “Ugh, I can’t believe I let you spend time with me when you don’t know that.”

Well. Kero tried, all he can do is laugh about it. At least he didn’t miss the compliment entirely! “Ehh, you do it ‘cause we’re best friends and you love me!” He says. “C’mon, we should get started on this already.”

“...y-yeah, yeah, whatever.” Idia shakes his head, but when he turns his face towards the table to look at their work in progress, there’s a slight smile on his blue lips that Kero couldn’t possibly miss. “Did you make the conveyor belts? I think I forgot to send you anything on these, couldn’t decide what material would be better for them…”

Moments like these are just so… so everything. Kero can’t find the words to describe how happy he is to be around Idia and be able to say things like that! Though, he feels it’s not exactly enough… even if all of this does feel nice, and he’s grateful for it.

(Well, he has a crush on Idia, that much he knows, so he guesses that’s something to be expected, in a way? He’s heard his classmates talking about the being unable to get enough related to someone so it was just part of it, probably. What they have now is good, straight out of his dreams even! Just… feelings are weird, aren’t they? He keeps wanting more, though he doesn’t know exactly what would sate this hunger.)

“Oh, I did rubber on the top and some of that light metal for the parts. I thought it’d be better if we don’t make it too heavy!” Kero replies, digging around for his own lab gear he’d brought. They might have to do some welding today, so it was always good to be careful.

(Plus, they got to match outftits!)

Idia nods, focused gaze on a miniature engine. “Ohh… huh. That’s good, actually. I think this might be easier than I thought.” He mutters. “We have all the parts to build the interior of the factory… I guess we could put that together tonight, and tomorrow we can get the rest? For the outside, I guess. If we just focus on the factory instead of the, uh, social repercussions or something like that, Trein might deduct points.”

He feels his ears deflate just a little at the teacher’s mention. “Tell me about it.” Idia passes him the engine, a silent command for him to get to work linking it with the other right parts. “Do you want me to get the stuff for the scenery from the store?”

“Yeah, sure. Would be helpful.”

Kero smiles at him, and for a single silent moment they’re putting the machine parts together. Engines and gears and a seemingly endless stretch of conveyor belts, wires and such hidden on the inferior part of the styrofoam slab the mockup was being built on.

“...hey, is that the battery?”

“Yup! Just gotta charge with magic whenever you wanna see it working.”

Idia turns it around on his hands, looking at it from every angle, making a humming noise to himself…

Huh, Kero is suddenly very aware that they’re all alone in that laboratory.

Maybe it’s because of how Idia looks at the small object, or how he touches it with this utmost care one wouldn’t think he has. It’s weirdly easy for other people to assume Idia was lazy, Kero recalls, and it was something he never really understood. He was such a diligent person, actually, but people couldn’t see it right because he didn’t put effort into things people commonly worked hard in. That makes him feel sort of bitter inside, he thinks, but also proud in a way.

He’s the only one who knows Idia this closely, it comes into Kero’s mind, and a smile sprawls across his face.

“...w-what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Of course, Idia notices. The pinkish glow on his face before turns into something more like strawberry red, and… agh, what the hell, Kero’s smile gets bigger.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so cute, of course!” He says without missing a beat. How many times has he called Idia cute now? Far too many to count. But he can’t stop, and it never feels like enough to show just how god damn adorable Idia was to him. It was such a crazy feeling, really.

“Gh… and you’re e-embarrassing, as always.” Idia responds as he averts his eyes. “We’ve gotta finish this as soon as possible, y’know, now’s not the time for...t-this.”

“What do you mean with this?” Kero asks amidst a laugh. Idia looks at him with this cranky sort of expression and his heart feels like it’s about to take off and fly, wow. “You asked me a question and I answered it!”

“Yeah, you answered it while being a jerk.” Idia mumbles, getting back to unscrewing something. Kero doesn’t get what he mean with it exactly but, well, he always says stuff like this.

“I mean it, though! I think you’re really cute.” He says, it’s so easy to say things like that, they end up just coming out on their own, even when he’s trying to put his brain cells back into work like Idia wants him to. “I tell you that all the time! D’you not think you’re cute?”

Idia glances at him with wide eyes. “I...n-no? What in the Lord of the Underworld makes you think I’m c-cute?” He asks, voice almost an octave higher.

Something about this strucks Kero differently. Is that a rhetorical question? It doesn’t matter. He wants to answer.

“Well, do you want me to tell you?” He suggests, and his heart is racing. It takes just a little bit of effort to ask something like this, it’s not quite having to hype himself up for it, but… well. What’s with this mood anyways? Idia’s hands are on his flushed cheeks, gloved fingers ready to cover up his eyes, like he usually does when he’s flustered — And here’s something to add to the list already, wow.

“I-I, um.”

“If you don’t say no I’m gonna tell you.” He looks straight into Idia’s eyes… such a nice shade of yellow, an amber-gold. Kero doesn’t always mean to tease, but now he does. He has a strong impulse to do it, a determination like he’s rushing towards the finish line in track — What sort of face would Idia show him if he told him everything? “Three, two, one…you lost your chance to say no! I’m gonna tell you.”

Idia squeaks like he got jumpscared, but he doesn’t object to any of it. Kero’s excited — He takes a step closer, and takes it upon himself to touch Idia’s hair again, because he absolutely couldn’t get enough of how it didn’t burn him.

“First of all, I know you hate it since it sticks out so much, but your hair is really cute.” He says, tucking a lock of hair behind Idia’s ear, feeling him shrink and tense under the light touch — Would he do that if Kero touched him more? If he wrapped his arms around Idia’s waist and held him close? “It’s so bright and pretty, and the bangs look so nice on you, they’re kinda messy and long but in a way that’s adorable.”

Indulging himself a little further, he lets his hand ghost over Idia’s bangs, brushing them to the side and watching them fall back into place. Idia’s face is fully red now. The hair doesn’t feel like much to the touch since it’s fire, actually, but, something about it…

“Second! You have a cute smile!” Kero chimes. He’s supposed to retract his hand now, but — It just stays on Idia’s cheek. And he finds that he really doesn’t want to take it off there. “When you talk about the things you like, and you get all excited about them and start grinning… it’s really cute, actually. I like it when I see you all full of energy.”

Idia’s eyes dart around. Are his hands shaking? Kero eyes at them briefly, before taking one into his — Unable to stop himself again — and the latex of his glove meets Idia’s, watched by wide amber eyes as he laces their fingers together. Shaking, indeed, but he was able to steady them.

“Third… related to that, how your hands move when you’re rambling. I stare at them a lot. That’s how much I love to see you all excited about stuff.”

His voice had fallen softer. The coldness of the laboratory seems to just fade. Kero’s heart feels…

“Fourth...” He starts, but no words come to him. He just stares at Idia’s face, his eyes, the blue tint of his lips. There’s more to say, obviously, but he can’t think of it, and he— “...can I kiss you?”

Somehow there’s no recoil time, no surprised noise on Idia’s part, and though he loves his shyness and how it shows through, he finds that he loves it even more when he’s expecting something like this, when he wants it. The shaky, uncertain nod is all he needs to give a name to that hunger he’d been feeling.

Ah, he was in love, everything be damned.

Kero doesn’t hesitate. One hand on his cheek and the other holding his, his lips meet Idia’s, his heart now soaring completely. If he looked back on it now he’d probably find it sort of awkward, Idia’s lips are chapped and the sharp teeth felt strange against each other, but none of this matters when he feels so euphoric, when Idia just melts into his kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. The brief pauses to breathe aren’t enough to actually do so, but neither of them seem to mind. The held hands unlace, Idia’s coming up to Kero’s neck to urge him closer, Kero’s on Idia’s waist like he’s dreamed.

When they pull away, both breathless, Kero is grinning, and Idia looks dazed, his eyes glossy, at least for a moment before he seems to realize what they’ve just done.

“O-Oh my...we.” He squeaks, freezing in Kero’s embrace. “W-We, we just…”

“Hey, it’s cool!” Kero assures, and he pulls him a bit closer, now causing a small shriek. “I love you, you know.”

“Y-You…” Idia stutters. How long would it be until he was able to string sentences together again? Kero doesn’t have an exact estimate, but, well, this was fine too. Especially as his tension drops, and he hides his warm face on Kero’s shoulder. “...you’re the worst? You’re so embarrassing I could die.”

“That’s a quick recovery, huh.”

“S-Shut up!” Idia whines, but he stays. He stays, and Kero holds him so close that his happiness feels like it’s overflowing, and the cravings from before are just slowly satisfied. “I… I, um.”

“Tell me.” A hand on the side of Idia’s face, he pulls his face upwards, making him look into his eyes again — Would he ever get enough of this, though? They’re so close. “Do you love me too, Idia?”

Idia hesitates, an embarrassed noise leaving him.

“I… I do.” He mutters — And he smiles. “You idiot.”

Kero smiles, his feelings actually overflowing in how he hugs Idia even tighter, and he laughs.

The project could be finished tomorrow, anyways.

[deafwestnewsies]

be my first last kiss

You can plan on a change in the weather or time, but you'd never planned on him changing his mind.

jack kelly x davey jacobs

read it on my ao3!

Earnest to goodness, Jack Kelly was going to murder Racetrack Higgins.

No, Anthony Higgins, this was the sort of thing that makes you pull out the tarnished christian name of a friend (or so you thought) you’ve known since he was toppling over on baby-fattened legs. Anthony Higgins would die by the sword of Jack Kelly.

He just had to get this godforsaken Youtube video filmed first.

You’re doing this for the cash, Jack grumbled to himself as he passed through the metal doors of a nondescript building on the Lower East Side- it was the kind of place being slowly taken over by hip and fun corporations promising Asian-fusion bars and eco-friendly thrift stores while edging out the relic businesses built on the backs of immigrant dreams. Jack couldn’t stand areas like this, the air thick with wasted luxury, so he rarely left the barrio. Why would he? Spot Conlon slept in the bedroom next to his. Katherine Plumber and Sarah Jacobs ran the bookstore that bought his baked goods and sold them for decent money. Medda lived down the street with her plethora of children, and Racetrack still beat the known path, doing tricks on the street corner for spare change and internet views. Davey- David. David Jacobs wasn’t there. It was right where Jack wanted to be.

Much unlike the dim studio where he now shuffled his feet, waiting for the perky young PA with bright red streaks in her hair to come back with further information about the video he would be shooting. Jack wasn’t a stranger to this small production company; He participated in a few Youtube videos back before they had millions of subscribers, he played truth or dare with lots of liquor and a complete stranger, he confessed about the first time he fell in love so it could be put to pathetic music.

Cash where you could get it, right?

“Kelly, right?” Cherry Streaks was back with a vengeance.

“Jack, actually,” he corrected.

“So you’re going to stand over there where the little blue X marks the spot and wait until the producer, Adam, starts asking you a few questions. The first one might be a test for our boom guy. Answer honestly, we can pretty much tell when you’re making up a story by this point. After that, the main part of the video will begin. Got it?” She was pointing wildly with a Number 2 pencil that had previously been stuck through her ponytail, and she smelled faintly of jasmine. Jack felt dizzy.

“Wait, I thought this was one of those ‘Choose who’s the best kisser out of ten strangers’ type of deal?” I mean, that’s what Race told me- oh God. Oh Santa Maria. Oh Saint Francis.

The young woman smiled like she was keeping an excellent secret. “Have fun, Jack Kelly.”

Walking off at her ominous dismissal, Jack stood where he was directed. The fluorescent lighting made him sweat under the knowledge that he had virtually no idea what he was doing there, Race had lied to him so that he would participate in some sort of sick, horrible scheme, and for all he knew, behind door number three could be his third grade teacher with a baseball bat and a basic multiplication grudge.

“Jack! It’s nice to see you again.”

Romeo was walking towards him with that easy gait Jack had memorized so long ago- Romeo had shot the original videos on an Amazon tripod and the unfounded hope of human connection, and now he owned the entire shebang. Jack dropped his tense shoulders to give him a warm smile. “Romeo. Boy, am I glad to see a friendly face.” Jack lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve got a production assistant who actually does work, so I’m assuming we’ve died and you earned a really nice deal in Heaven?”

Romeo barked out a laugh. “If I’ve died, do not resuscitate. I’ll never be able to look at another bodega meatball sub after cooking food bought in a real grocery store.”

“Rub it in, why don’tcha?” Jack punched the shorter man on the shoulder. “Listen, Romeo, you gotta tell me what I’m in for, a buddy totally sold me out for the cash and I have no clue what this project is gonna be like.”

Before Romeo could respond, a tall, lofty man behind the camera cleared his throat. “Darling? We’re ready to begin when you are.”

“Jack, meet Specs. Or Adam, but we all know how well nicknames stick. Specs, this is the old friend I was telling you about.” Romeo ended right above Specs’ elbow, and it was all Jack could do not to laugh.

The man fixed his thoughtful gaze on him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. You’ve got a real presence on the camera. Have you ever considered acting?”

“I’m afraid I’m, uh,” Jack flexed a paint-stained hand. “Strictly canvas, as they say.”

Nodding as if that was a phrase people commonly used and not something Jack invented on the fly, Specs then clapped his hands together. “Folks, let’s film this sonofabitch.”

---

“I’m Jack, and I’m a twenty-four year old artist living in New York City.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Specs questioned from behind the camera.

Jack blinked in surprise. “Sure. One throughout high school, another in college and a little bit beyond. I wouldn’t call myself a heartbreaker or anything.”

“Do you stay friends with your exes?”

“One of ‘em, yea. It was more of an amicable thing, you know. She ended up being a lesbian. And I am… not.” His clumsy fingers tugged at a constricting collar.

“And the other?”

“Just because I’m not a heartbreaker doesn’t mean I can’t be a real asshole sometimes,” Jack nervously chuckled. (Davey had laid out rose petals, for God’s sake. Rose petals.)

“Was this girl the high school girlfriend, or the college one?”

“Boy,” Jack quickly corrected. “Man. I guess. He was in college- four and a half years.” (It took him four days to clear away the rotting flowers, the bleeding color slowly seeping into his carpet. Katherine found him delirious with whiskey on the bathroom floor; Sarah couldn’t bear to walk through his front door.)

“How’d you meet him?”

(He twisted in his high-backed blue chair. “It’s habláis in el presente.”) “Freshman year of high school actually. Spanish class. Funny story, actually, that other girl I dated? His sister. Broke her heart for his. He was so mad at me that we didn’t talk for like, months after.”

“It was six and a half months, actually.”

Of things Jack was expecting to see today, Spiderman was more likely than David. A flash mob singing death metal, maybe. Pigs flying through the polluted air.

“I was told to come in. I now see why.” David’s eyes narrowed behind his thin wire frames, different from the heavy Ray-Bans that he had dedicated himself to sophomore year of high school. Jack hated that he looked older, wiser, and all around… better.

Specs cleared his throat before the bewildered set of men (one more angry than the other, both desperately avoiding eye contact) could demand what sort of sick joke this was. “Can you introduce yourself?”

They broke up on a Tuesday, an insignificant, momentary Tuesday. Fourteen months ago. (Yes, fourteen months, like their terrible split was a baby that Jack was nurturing bit by bit. He refused to round down- fourteen months ago, he left David Jacobs.) So when David ran his thumb across his jawline, a nervous tick older than his younger brother, Jack couldn’t fathom why he felt so relieved. Some things never did change. “David. Jacobs.” David’s jaw flexed as he looked into the camera. “I dated Jack for almost five years.”

“Tell us about your other relationships.”

“Unfortunately, I spent the better part of high school and college pining after a total cocksock. Not a whole lot of time for casual dating in between.”

A deep silence permeated the studio as two boom mic operators swapped awkward glances. Jack didn’t attempt to defend himself- he was sort of a cocksock. David Jacobs had asked him to uproot what little life he had in New York and move to Santa Fe for a prestigious, so-accolated-you-could-cry medical school, and Jack Kelly broke up with him over containers of kung pao chicken and scattered rose petals. He was a cocksock, a dickhead, and complete asshole. An ex-boyfriend of mass proportions.

“Okay, so.” Specs was wiping at his glasses with the tail of his shirt. Jack wanted to snap them in half. “Today’s video is entitled ‘Exes kiss for the first time since their breakup’. If you need more explanation…”

“I think we’ve got it.” David snapped, clenching his fists rapidly.

Jack stepped half an inch closer to David and began murmuring under his breath. “Davey, if you don’t want-”

“Don’t call me Davey.” His eyes were alight with flame- Jack’s chest caught fire.

Of all the things that felt domestic when dating Davey Jacobs, kissing him never managed to become routine. Davey kissed like he earnestly meant it. The gears in his brilliant mind would grind to a halt so he could dedicate himself to the lilting curve of Jack’s mouth, a gentle sweep of warmth when the artist’s mouth was otherwise preoccupied with his needless words, and the world would spin on a delicate axis. (Jack’s shoulders rose to meet Davey, the physical ache of being someone’s other half drawing him forward. Davey had avoided him for so long, Jack living on a diet of lingering stares and a brief touch of the hand, that kissing him felt like a dying man knelt at a replenished well. How did they exist for so long without this innate knowledge of the universe? Could he stand to go on a single second longer without the praise of Davey Jacob’s lips?) Of all the things Jack missed about spending his life with Davey Jacobs, kissing him was certainly one of them.

There was a moment where the pads of Jack’s fingertips brushed the nape of David’s neck, a habit borne from the small noise it would draw from the back of his throat, and the steely corporate floor felt more like the worn carpet in the old thirty-second street apartment. Jack could feel his thready pulse with the gentle press of a thumb.

Davey was a fan of the dramatics- he would pull away from a passionate kiss in the middle of a busy New York street to stare into Jack’s eyes, foreheads gently touching and cheeks furiously blushing. Now, he simply drew back. Took a step away. Swiped at his lips with the back of his hand.

Jack felt like he was falling. (“If you ever break up with me,” Jack began. He laughed at Davey’s unexpected shudder, the honest and visceral kind. “Make it quick.”

“What about when you break up with me?” Davey peered over his glasses.

Crinkling his nose, Jack quickly answered before the other boy could detail any breakup preferences. “I’m not an idiot, Dave. ‘M not going anywhere.”)

---

He stared at the limp fifty dollars in his hand. Romeo had apologized, explaining that the people who had organized this got half the cut, and handed them both an envelope- Jack, one with “Tony Higgins” that he planned to run through his shredder, and David, one with “Sarah Jacobs,” which made Jack gawk in disbelief.

Jack didn’t want to walk away; David’s feet were shuffling against the worn pavement.

“It’s funny,” David started. “I listened to a lot of Taylor Swift to get over you.”

He winced. “Sorry?”

“Please. I know she’s been your top artist since 2013.”

(Katherine walked through a worryingly unlocked apartment door. “Is that... Begin Again? Jack, what the fuck are you doing?” She had seconds to worry about the cluster of wilted flower petals her heel had put a hole through before Sarah pointed at the pair of legs sticking out of the bathroom’s entrance.) “Yeah, okay. Fair. But… funny? Did I miss a joke?”

David closed his eyes to roll them, as he so often did when he was trying to be polite, and it hurt to be on the receiving end. “We just had our last kiss. You know, like-”

“I’m Joe Jonas?” Jack interrupted, bewildered. The semi-glare he received in return was all he needed to know- “Right. Dickhead. Listen, Dave- David, why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?”

There was a brief moment where something unrecognizable flashed over David’s face- pity? Regret? Dejection? It was quickly replaced by a soft smile tugging at the edge of his lips, his eyes glazed over with a practiced professionalism. “I’ll see you around, Jack. Have a good day.”

David turned and walked down the street, and Jack just missed the passing moment he chose to look back.

---

Comment on EXES KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THEIR BREAKUP by IncredibleKinsey: those two dudes are all mad and then just make out like that????? yeah okay call me when the wedding happens

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 4

This is it. The big one.

This is the all-devouring AU that has now eaten nearly half of my Whumptober fill ideas. It’s a scenario I’ve carried in my brain for years, and when I initially looked through the prompt list this year and decided to write for it, my brain said ‘Hey, look at that Escape prompt. You could write something for that one AU that would fit that. And this one could work as a follow-up!’ and I said yeah, sure, why not. And I listed those ideas as ‘Escape!AU’, because that was the one that sparked the idea and I figured there’d only be one or two others. 

By now, the AU has absorbed close to a dozen other prompts. They’re wildly out of order, of course, because I’m writing them in order of the prompts and not how those moments happen in the story. With every additional prompt I write out, there is the chance that it will mutate before my eyes and become part of the Escape!AU with little to no input or control from myself. I feel like I invited the muse for this story into my head without realizing that it’s not a fluffy hamster, IT’S A BLOODY TRIBBLE. 

That being said, I should probably have at least kinda seen it coming, because it’s a fix-it for the ending of CoS. That’s a topic that I... feel passionately about, to put it mildly. This is that other AU I mentioned yesterday, where Gerald still has extra-special Hunter powers and the Patriarch did not manage to take the fae away from everyone; please just go with it, and I’ll actually address how that happened at some point. Although the Gerald-not-actually-being-mortal isn’t really relevant in this bit, because he’s so drained from everything that’s happened that it doesn’t do anything to resolve the situation. 

That’s what we have Damien for. 

Opening two lines, in italics, are quoted directly from Crown of Shadows to help set where the scene splits from canon. 

Day 4 - Theme Chosen: “Do you trust me?”

Damien hesitated, then looked at Gerald. The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. “He's right, Damien.” His voice was quiet but strained. “There's nothing more you can do here.”

“Gerald-”

The Hunter was already shaking his head. Damien felt his throat constrict, as if the force of his own panic and despair was physically crushing it. He knew what the next word from Gerald's mouth was going to be, knew that the adept was going to send him away, that this was how it was all going to end; blood and bitterness and revenge, all that potential for redemption wrenched away at the last second, wasted...

Do you trust me?

He'd never initiated contact through the link before – the few times they'd spoken through it, Gerald had been the one to open the connection, Damien only responding to the Hunter's questing reach. It wasn't as hard as he might have thought, though; only a matter of reaching for that ever-present sense of connection that throbbed quietly between them, touching that indefinable thread that bound them and spilling his thoughts into it, the question carried forward in a rush by the tide of fear and desperation that was sweeping through him. Damien saw the Hunter twitch slightly, grey eyes widening in surprise at the message, or at the strength of the emotions that accompanied it – but the response came immediately nonetheless, no hesitation on the other man's part.

Yes.

Damien looked back at Andrys, the young man's green eyes blazing with restless fury as he waited for the Knight to step aside, and let his whole demeanour shift. He dropped his hands from where they'd been held, conciliatory, in front of him; he let his shoulders shift up and back, his stance transforming from defensive to confident, even cocky, as he hardened his expression into a look of stern determination. He saw shock and uncertainty ripple through Andrys at just the change in his body language, and he went for the opening with ruthless speed, forcing even his voice to come out steady and unaffected.

“Fine. Since you're not buying the concerned ally angle... let me put this a little more plainly. You're ruining my plan, boy.”

“What?”

The shocked exclamation had come, in the same tone, from both Gerald and Andrys in nearly the same breath. Damien forced the tiny urge to laugh hysterically into the furthest recesses of his mind, glaring at Andrys with all the disdain he could muster.

“You know what he is, and in case it escaped your notice, I'm a priest,” he bit out, gesturing dismissively at Gerald where the adept stood half-shielded behind him, lean frame now rigid with disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. “You think I actually wanted to have to work with a monster to save the world? That I seriously planned to just let him walk away when all this was said and done?”

Already, there was a flash of dawning understanding in Andrys's eyes; the young man looked from Damien to Gerald and back, the blind aggression on his face giving way to realization as he put the pieces together.

“You set him up...”

“I swore, back on the day I first found out that he was the Hunter, that I'd kill him with my own two hands,” Damien growled, and felt the fae around him shimmer with the force of the truth behind those words, so obvious that surely even Andrys could see it. With his adept's Sight, Gerald certainly could – and had, judging by the sudden alarm that flickered over his face. “I've been biding my time for vulking years, fighting this damn war, putting up with his power slithering through my head – I've endured nightmares and murders and horrors beyond your comprehension, and now you're just going to waltz in and finish him off, just when I've finally got the upper hand? No. No, I don't think so.”

He could feel real trepidation bleeding through the link now, knew that he had forced just enough true resentment into his words to off-balance Gerald – and Andrys must have been able to see it in the adept's face as well, because the young man suddenly laughed, a malicious little chuckle half choked by his own heightened emotions.

“Well, that's certainly a twist,” he said, eyes gleaming as he lowered the springbolt in his hands ever so slightly, the angle of the bolt canting down just enough that it was no longer aimed at Damien's chest but more at hip height. “And, from the looks of it, one that you weren't expecting.” Those words, dripping with spite, were aimed at Gerald, who actually flinched again in response. Andrys's gaze swung back to Damien, a dark, sick hunger that reminded the former Knight all too much of Calesta stirring behind his eyes. “So, you're the priest... Jaxom told me about you. Said you'd lost your way, fallen further than even he expected.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “This makes more sense, though. You needed this bastard too much to kill him then, but of course you're angry. What was the plan? Bring him back here and walk right into the heart of the crusade, so you'd have backup?”

“Of course.” Damien forced a mirroring smirk onto his own features, and though it felt heinously wrong on his face, Andrys didn't seem to notice anything amiss with it. “I'm not an idiot – I want payback, but I know he's still powerful. I wasn't going to provoke that showdown unless I knew I had some kind of safety net.”

Andrys nodded, his eyes glittering; Damien could all but see the pieces aligning in his mind, the world finally taking a shape that meshed sensibly with the young man's own personal mania.

“I see,” he said finally, the springbolt lowering a little more – the weapon was heavy, his arms had to be tiring by now. “It was my family that he slaughtered, you know... but I understand what you're saying, as well. You had to travel with him, endure him, for the entire fight against Calesta – that can't have been easy. I won't deny you have a claim on his head, but I think you must see my point of view as well...”

Damien barely heard his words. His eyes were on the springbolt, watching the nose dip further and further – until, as Andrys rambled on about the weight of their differing claims and his own suffering in having to work with Calesta to put an end to the Hunter, the trajectory of the bolt fell so far that it was aimed at the very ground.

Now!

Damien shoved the word through the link at the same time that he moved, lunging forward with every ounce of speed his tense muscles could offer. He left his reservations behind him, the conflict that had raged through him for so long suddenly silenced, irrelevant; as it had that night in Morgot when Hesseth's tidal Working had hit them, his innate drive to defend those he cared for subsumed everything else, every other voice in his head drowning under the overwhelming instinct to protect.

Andrys was wearing too much armour to try any more delicate method of incapacitating him, so Damien fell back on the basics; closing the distance between them with that desperate lunge, he brought his arm back and punched Andrys in the jaw with all the force he could muster. Even in his exhausted state, his speed and strength were forces to be reckoned with. Andrys had tried to react to Damien's sudden attack, jerking the springbolt back up and getting off a single shot, but Gerald had taken Damien's cue to throw himself to the side out of Andrys's line of attack; the bolt fired at a useless angle, flying low across the room to bury itself in the far wall near the floor. Then, Damien's blow connected.

Damien wasn't just well-trained in combat; as a Healer, he knew exactly how to do the most damage to the human body when he needed to. The gorget of the armour was protecting Andrys's throat too well for a jab to connect, but the sideways force of a blow could be an effective method of knocking an opponent out as well, if the attacker had aimed correctly. Damien had thrown the punch from as much of a sideways angle as he could manage, his fist coming in from the side with terrifying force; as it connected, Andrys's head snapped hard to the side, and the young man crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, knocked instantly unconscious by the force of his own brain being slammed against the inside of his skull.

The crash of his armoured form hitting the floor was followed by utter silence, broken only by Damien's own heavy breathing. He stared down at the young man, heart pounding with delayed adrenaline, feeling a wave of numbness slowly wash through him and replace the panic that had driven him to action.

God, forgive me... is this what I've become? Is this what You wanted when you brought us together, or have I truly lost myself so badly?

“Damien?”

The soft utterance of his name snapped Damien out of his trance, and he turned, shaking off the fog. Gerald had closed the distance between them in his moment of distraction and was now standing only a couple feet away, staring at Damien as if he'd never seen the Knight before, grey eyes wide. He didn't say anything else aloud, but he didn't need to; the link between them was saturated with emotion. Shock, wonder, gratitude, a fading echo of wariness...

And something else. Something so strong, so deeply felt, that it took Damien's breath away all over again. A sense of devotion, almost akin to his own fierce faith in God yet so much more personal, flooding through the link between their souls. A dizzying awareness that a line had been crossed, and a promise made: not with words, but with actions, unable to be taken back or misinterpreted. Gerald was wholly aware of what Damien had just declared, by stepping between himself and his descendant, by striking out at Andrys in defence of the Hunter – and he was returning the sentiment tenfold.

There would be time to put it all into words later. Damien took a deep breath, finally feeling the ground firm beneath his feet once more, his world steadying from where it had tilted on its axis in the moment he thought that Gerald was going to die.

“Time to grab what we came for and get the Hell out of here,” he said, mouth dry. “I'd say we're pretty definitively out of time.”

As Gerald nodded and turned to find the books they'd risked so much for, Damien moved to help, marveling at the way the link remained open and resonating between them, emotions flowing freely back and forth – and wondering what it meant for the state of his immortal soul that none of those emotions, from either end of the link, was anything like regret.

[howtosingit]

Fic: i'll be there for you, ‘cause you’re there for me too

Following her accident, Carlos worries about Michelle. Luckily, he has TK at his side.

*

A missing moment from 1x05.

1.9K | Also on AO3

- - - - - - -

“You okay over there?”

Carlos is pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the sudden, direct question. He shakes himself out of his haze, blinking quickly as he takes in the image on the TV before him - a frozen Lucy drunkenly spooning “Vitameatavegamin” into her mouth. He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t even notice when TK paused his favorite show. 

He turns to look at the other man, noticing how the off-duty firefighter is laid out at the far end of his couch. TK’s wearing his signature hoodie-and-sweatpants combo, one of Carlos’s blankets thrown over his long legs, and a bowl of popcorn resting in his lap. His torso is twisted towards the TV, his left arm propped up on the arm of the couch, but he’s still tall enough that he takes up the entire space between them. Now that he’s paying attention, Carlos can feel the way TK’s toes press against his hip, gently nudging him out of his daze.

“Carlos?” TK asks, and Carlos takes in the concerned expression on his face, the questioning arch of his brow.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to remember what he might’ve missed while he was off in his own little world. “What did you say?”

TK watches him for a moment, refusing to break eye contact, before he moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table, pulling himself up into a sitting position. He leans forward slightly into Carlos’s space. “What’s up?” he asks, his voice soft but obviously concerned. Carlos bites down on his bottom lip, wondering if this is really a conversation that he wants to have right now. 

He and TK are in a good place; they’ve known each other for a few months, and though it’s taken some time, they’ve managed to navigate towards some sort of a friendship together, getting past their complicated beginning. Now, they find time to hang out most weeks, often exploring Austin; Carlos has shown TK some of his favorite places in the city, helping the other man find his place in Texas. However, both of their jobs can be taxing, so when the hard days hit, they just spend time at his apartment, ordering food and introducing each other to their favorite TV shows. 

Through all of that, though, they’re careful not to get too deep. They stick to safe conversations instead, wary of where winding roads might take them.

For Carlos, it’s a matter of not wanting to seem pushy. They agreed to be friends, and while he thinks that means they can talk about things that bother them, he still waits for TK to come to him. And, sometimes, TK does, the firefighter often telling him all about taking his dad to chemo treatments and the older guy that bothers them there. While Carlos can clearly see the anxiety and fear that sits right behind TK’s eyes after those visits, the other man tells him that things are fine, so Carlos doesn’t push.

Instead, he tries to distract TK from all of the uncertainty. He takes him dancing, they try what seems like every authentic Mexican place in the city, they walk through artsy neighborhoods. Austin is known for its music scene, so they frequent cafes and bars with open mic nights. It’s a nice, distracting friendship, and Carlos loves the time that he gets to spend with TK. They have a lot in common besides their jobs, and it’s nice to have a friend who understands what it’s like to be gay and living in Texas. 

He just doesn’t want to rock the boat and make a mess of it.

Which is why he’s not sure that he should tell TK what he’s currently mulling over. Unlike TK, Carlos knows that he won’t be able to just say that everything’s fine and move on; he can’t hide his fear and anxiety behind his eyes like that. He’s always been that way: too much of an open book, all of his feelings right there on his face, for everyone to see.

He knows that TK is being nice by asking, but he’s not sure if the other man can handle the answer. 

“Carlos, seriously, you can talk to me,” TK says when Carlos remains silent. He reaches out, gripping Carlos’s forearm and giving it a little shake. “You’ve been distracted ever since I got here, and I know you’re not really watching this,” he admits, gesturing towards the TV. “If you want to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours, I’m happy to listen.”

Carlos looks at him, his face so open and desperate to help, and decides that maybe they can handle something deeper. They’ll never know until they try.

“I, um, I visited Michelle in the hospital after my shift,” he starts, staring down at his fingers. 

“She’s okay, right?” TK confirms, scooting closer. “My dad got a call that she was going to be fine, they were just keeping her overnight for observation.”

“Yeah, she’ll recover from the accident without any problems,” Carlos assures him, biting his lip again. “It’s just, we got to talking about this other thing and…” He trails off, his voice catching in the back of his throat. “I just can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down.”

TK makes a noise of disbelief next to him, and Carlos looks up to find a dubious expression on his face. He raises his brow, wondering what could’ve caused that reaction. 

“Look, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I have an incredibly hard time believing that you could ever let anyone down, Carlos,” TK explains without him having to ask. “I mean, the way you’ve been there for me this entire time, no matter what? There’s no way the same isn’t true for Michelle and literally everyone else on this planet.”

Carlos feels a sudden heat on the back of his neck, TK’s words shooting straight through his chest and into his heart. 

The thing is, TK’s not wrong. He tries so, so hard to be there for everyone, no matter what. Ever since his father died when he was in middle school, he’s felt like he needed to step into his shoes, to be there for his mother and sisters. When it comes to his friendships, he’s the same way. His friends are also a part of his family, so why wouldn’t he be there for them too? The only thing he’ll ever really have to give is his love and support and understanding, so he doesn’t waste any opportunity to share those with the people in his life.

“Michelle’s been through a lot the past few years,” Carlos says, his voice quiet as he tries to navigate through this conversation. “I can’t tell you anything about it, it’s not my place to share it. You work with her and she’s your boss, so I don’t want to overstep and cause any problems.”

TK nods, giving Carlos’s arm another squeeze to show that he understands. 

“I just… after talking with her at the hospital, I realized that she’s kind of been on her own with everything for awhile now,” Carlos continues, a slight waver in his voice. “And I don’t think I’ve made that any easier for her. I don’t think I’ve supported her the way I should have, the way that maybe only I could have.”

“You mean as a friend, or as a police officer?” TK asks, and Carlos’s wide eyes lock onto him, surprised that TK followed him through that messy confession. The firefighter just shrugs, the movement bringing them even closer on the couch. “I’m not just a pretty face, Reyes. I can put things together,” he jokes, elbowing Carlos gently in the side. 

“I guess both,” Carlos admits, looking down in shame.

“Well, I’m sure if there was anything else you could’ve done as an officer, you would have,” TK says, leaning into him. “You’re damn good at your job, and I think if you’d seen a way forward, any way forward, you would’ve pursued it without a second thought. Sometimes timing matters, right?”

“I guess,” Carlos says, twisting his thumbs together. 

“As far as being there for her as a friend,” TK continues, his voice seeming to strengthen with conviction, “there is still no doubt in my mind that you were there for her every time she needed you. Maybe Michelle wasn’t just able to see it at the time, too wrapped up in whatever this thing is to notice. That, and I think your guilty conscience might be working too hard to place all the blame on yourself.

“You’re only one person, Carlos,” TK says, shifting to rest his head against his shoulder. “Try as you might, you can’t save the whole world. But, you do what you can with what you know and what you have, I know you do, and that’s a lot more than what most people are willing to give.” 

Silence falls as TK finishes speaking. The only sound Carlos hears is his heart hammering in his ears. He feels torn open and laid bare, truly seen for what feels like the first time in his entire life, and he’s not really sure how to deal with it.

Over the past few months, he’s gotten the sense that he and TK were a lot alike; that maybe they chose their respective jobs for similar reasons. Carlos can’t help but wonder if TK reading him so easily is a sign that the other man faces this world in much the same way that he does. It’s heavy, solidifying, this feeling of familiarity that defines their relationship.

Ultimately, he knows that what TK’s saying is true. If he let Michelle down in the past, dismissing her feelings without truly considering them, that’s just something that he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. He knows he’s tried to be there for her in other ways, tried to get her to move on, for her own sake. He’s always stopped himself from really going down that road with her, worried that the inevitable ending would destroy her beyond repair.

But he knows now that she needs to see this through, and as her friend, he has to be there for her while she does it. Maybe, with his help, with his support and love and understanding, he can keep her from tearing herself apart completely. 

They have a lead now, and he’s determined to follow it. It’s the least he can do to make up for not believing her after all this time.

He glances down to where TK’s short, messy brown hair rests against his shoulder, feeling the way the other man’s fingers drag slowly against his forearm. His heart pounds in his chest, threatening to burst open. He shifts, gently pressing a barely-there kiss against TK’s head.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, trying to pack everything he’s feeling into those two simple words.

“You don’t have to thank me,” TK says, looking up at him, their faces only a few inches apart. “I know you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right,” Carlos says, giving him a smile.

So, when TK texts him a few days later, worrying over Paul’s heartbreak, Carlos is right there by his side with a welcome distraction.

Because that’s exactly what friends are for.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 4 part 3

After my hectic experience with the marshbloom, I decided to take a day for myself. Greenmoor isn’t anywhere near the ocean, but Meltwater Loch is big enough that I figured a day spent there could be considered a beach day. And after the couple of weeks I’d had, boy did I need a beach day.

But anyone who’s read this far ought to be familiar with my luck by now. There’s a lot to record, but I’ll try to get it down in order.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

It was a beautiful day—clear blue sky, warm air, and (at least when I first arrived) no one around at Meltwater Loch. I spread out a towel on the beach and laid down for a good session of sunbathing. I’ve never been one for tanning, but  simply laying doing nothing while being warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze felt absolutely decadent.

After a while of simply existing, I became aware of the sound of a bird calling above me. I cracked my eyes open and recognized the large forms of a pair of gull-drakes flying overhead. Gull-drakes are a strange hybrid, both reptilian and avian. Their torsos and wings are feathered, while their heads, tails, and talons are scaled. They do have beaks like gulls, but their tails are prehensile like their alleged draconic ancestors’. I say ‘alleged’ because no one knows how the hybrid gull-drake came into being. The sheer anatomy and scale discrepancy between the average seagull and the average dragon fossil (they were much larger in ancient times than the pocket-sized lizards we have today) seems to rule out any cross-breeding. Additionally, the typical combination of traits displayed by gull-drakes is too awkward and ungainly to be the result of natural selection. And yet, there have been records of the gull-drake’s existence for just about as long as there have been records—the third-oldest surviving written document, in fact, is a bestiary which includes them along dozens of other species, most of which are now extinct.

Nature is a strange thing.

Digressions aside, there was a reason this caught my attention. Gull-drakes are scavengers, and have been known to leave catches uneaten while they go out to hunt for more. It’s just an evolutionary quirk—they prefer to feast only once per day. This means that, as they leave their nests unattended, some other opportunistic creature could come by and steal their catch. 

It’s easy to identify a gull-drake nest, too—they tend to be very large, and are often positioned balanced atop large, pointy rocks. If a gull-drake catches you stealing, though, it’ll chase you and squawk at you and try to peck you until you drop the stolen goods and flee. They’re not too smart, though, so hiding in nearby foliage (say, a patch of large ferns) will fool them easily.

All of this to say, I managed to get myself a shock fish without a rod, all while only getting chased a little ways by a jealous, stupid bird.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

As I returned to my towel, I heard an unusual sound—the put-put-put of a motor. Machinery of that kind is a fairly new invention, and unless you know how to make it, very expensive.

The woman driving the boat certainly looked like she knew how to make a motor. She was dwarven, with russet hair and a long beard, both held in thick braids. She was (as dwarves are) rather short—I'd estimate maybe one-and-a-fifth meters tall, and nearly as wide—with large hands and feet, and limbs thickly corded with muscle. She wore dark green coveralls and had a fairly heavy-duty fishing rod held in one hand so that it rested on her shoulder.

She shut the motor off as she neared and called out to me, asking if I was the village witch. I said that I was, and she told me that she was friends with my crocodilian patient. She thanked me for helping him, and said he would have been a goner without my potion-making skills. I demurred just a bit, saying I wasn't the only healer who helped him that day. She scoffed and dismissed my humility outright, saying that I might as well have been the only one—that without my care the village doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She introduced herself as Janneth Hillhorn, and I told her my name in turn. She asked what I was doing out by Meltwater Loch and I told her I was taking a day off. She let me know that her cottage was just around the other side of the lake, near Glimmerwood Grove and right on the border of Blastfire Bog, and that I should feel free to stop in any time. I thanked her.

At this point, there was a tremor in the water. It couldn't have been an earthquake because the land wasn't shaking, but the water abruptly became much more active. Ocean-like waves crashed into the shore and Janneth held tight onto the sides of her boat, doing her best not to capsize. I would have been quite alarmed in her situation, but Janneth barely seemed preturbed. I asked something along the lines of "what the blight is going on?!" As the water settled, Janneth told me that this was a common occurence on Meltwater Loch, a quirk that—many said—was due to the emotions of its guardian sea-dragon, Bàs Bàta. I found this explanation rather silly, reminiscent of an old wives' tale. I'd never heard of a sea-dragon before, and given that the name ‘Bàs Bàta’ directly translated to "boat death," I figured it was just a local story told to frighten children and dismissed it out of hand.

Astute readers should be growing worried for me right about now.

Janneth offered to give me one of the fish she'd caught as a thanks for helping her friend. I initially refused, but she insisted. She looked through her basket and pulled out a dentist crab. The gel their claws produce is good for the mouth and plenty else besides, so I accepted and thanked her. She thanked me right back and said (perhaps jokingly?) not to run afoul of Bàs Bàta while I was out by the loch. I forced a laugh as she sped away.

Once she was out of sight, I collected some claw gel from the dentist crab and released it back into the water.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

There was another rumbling as I made my way back to the beach, and as it abated I saw something bob up to the surface of the water close to the shore. It presented itself, et cetera et cetera, I waded in to see what it was.

I scooped it out of the water and found myself holding a glass bottle, like the kind that rum or sweet wine would come in, sealed with a cork and containing a rolled-up sheet of paper. Of course, I opened it immediately. I found that the sheet inside wasn’t quite *paper,* but something more slippery—maybe made of seaweed? It did have writing on it, though. As I unfurled it, a few things that looked like pebbles fell out. I barely managed to catch them before they hit the surface of the water. I put them in my pocket for safe keeping.

The writing on the note was as follows, with no spelling changes by me:

Let it be known that I fink this whole exercise is stupid. And pointless. And probly meant as some kind of sick, twisted punishment. No one but little kids believe in terrafolk, so I don’t know why the instructress is making us do this.

Even if anyfing could live above the water, there’s no way its advanced enough to read. How would it get all the minerals it needs wivout processing the water?

But anyway. I guess I ave to fulfill the prompt. 

Me name is Genoveva, I live in the I.S.A.C.S. (that's short for 'Isolated Sovereign Aquatic City-State, but we all just pronounce it like 'Isax") and I’m in the fifth year of me education. I hate me name. I wish I could ave somefing exotic like a John or a Steve or a Sarah, but I’m stuck wiv boring old Genoveva. If you’re somehow able to read this, that must mean you ave schools on the surface, too. Wat ar they like? Ar they as boring up there? We all ave to sit in a circle and listen to the instructress drone on and on and on.

I live wiv me merma and me perpa and me two baby brothers. Do you ave family? I've got loads of cousins too.

On the rubric it says I ave to include a small gift, so I'm putting some fossil fish scales in wiv this letter. I found em on me way to school this morning and there not of use to me, but I figure you probly don't ave fish on land so maybe scales ar valuable up there.

If you're inclined to write back (no pressure), you can just pop your note in the bottle and put it back into the water. It'll find its way to me—there's magic all around, don't you know.

Signed,

Genoveva Galbrait, 5th year

[An accessible version of this letter can be found here.]

The letter obviously has some pretty complex implications. An entire society under the surface of Meltwater Loch, entirely unaware of the world above the surface beyond fairy stories? What must life be like down there? What kind of society must they have? How do they supply food? Get rid of waste?

What resources might be available there that can't be found on the surface?

I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to visit ISACS, and learn everything I could about it. I bet that would impress the University of Arcbridge. I wasn't sure how I would breathe under the water for long enough, but I was determined to find a way.

Take your final guesses now what happened next.

That water-quaking started up again, this time stronger than before. Waves crashed against the beach where I stood, and I felt a great vibration in my chest and in my head. 

And then, it broke the surface of the water.

Giant and blue-green and serpentine, Bàs Bàta rose up before me. A blighting sea-dragon, it stood straight up in the air at least twice as tall as my cottage—and that was just the part of its body I could see. Its head was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with three great spikes sprouting out of the back (the outer two longer than the middle one). It let loose another deep roar, dousing me in spittle. It thrashed about, causing great waves to crash onto the shore, and through my shock I realized its movements might be less characteristic of anger than of pain.

My suspicions were confirmed when it roared again: one of the fangs right near the front of its mouth was missing a chip, and had a great crack running nearly all the way up to the root. That had to hurt. I'd never treated a non-humanoid  before—or, for that matter, a cracked tooth—but I realized even past the moral obligation to help, there was no way I could access the underwater city-state without calming Bàs Bàta down.

I found out later, after I'd scrambled away from the lake and sprinted back to the cottage, after wiping the saliva off of me and getting at least some of it in a bottle for potion use, that the saliva was actually a really useful ingredient in treating shattered teeth. As it turns out, it's a pretty strong painkiller. Unfortunately, I knew I'd need more than just that to make a cure, and with the sheer size of Bàs Bàta, I suspected I'd need to make more than one potion.

That will have to be a longer term project, then, because the events of my relaxation day have worn me out. I've got to get to bed. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

⇦●〇●⇨

[captcas]

exile

exile by capthamm

it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it, holdin' all this love out here in the hall...  i can see you staring honey, like he's just your understudy

part four of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series 

Killian ignores the look of pity etched across Robin’s face as he pours another shot. Robin’s stern looks are just another reminder that his life has turned into a literal three ring circus.

Alright, not a literal one but his point remains. He just wishes he was playing the part of ring leader and not the sad clown.

Killian’s train of thought is derailed at the sound of her voice. He can’t tell what she’s saying, and against his better judgement he glances towards where she sits. As she places her hand on his shoulder, Killian swears the same spot on his own burns white hot. It’s then that he slams the shot, the rum no longer burning as it coats his throat, as he catches Robin shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Pathetic.

As Killian gets up to leave, Neal shoots him a grateful look while she’s distracted by something on her phone. He grimaces in response and attempts to tune out Neal’s carefully rehearsed line as he pushes on the door of the old pub.

“Neal, I can't dance,” she protests. “Nonsense, there's only one rule, pick a partner—“

The door slams but Killian’s mind is apt to finish the sentence on it’s own— he is the one who came up with it after all.

Disgruntled, he shoves his hands in his pockets and begins the cold walk home, leaving his car to be retrieved in the morning once his libations wear thin— assuming he lets them. His mind can't help but wonder what other tips Neal used on his date with Emma tonight. He had advised his old friend not to use them all in one evening, but chances are Neal will be knocking on his door in the morning wondering what the next steps are and how Killian would go about taking them.

How in the hell did he end up here?

Two months ago, it would’ve been Killian in that booth, Emma’s hand lightly touching his bicep as conversation flows easily between them. As quickly as it began, their entire thing came to a screeching halt. Before he could fathom what happened, Neal was at the docks begging Killian to help now that Emma finally asked him out.

He’d never suffocated before but he’s positive it’d feel startlingly similar to the pain he felt as he processed what Neal had said.

Fourteen days. Five kisses. Two secret dates. That was all he got with Emma Swan before she decided (much like many other women in his life) that he was better left a friend than loved as more. If they’re even friends anymore. He can’t say he blames her, he just wishes he knew why. Their friendship had always developed with ease, many of their mutual acquaintances supposedly taking bets for how long it’d be until it formed into something more. No one won, because no one even knew it happened. Not to mention Emma and Killian moved at their own pace and waited 16 years after meeting to give it a go.

Her pinky wraps with his, “Promise me we are friends first and that I have a clean out if you are an awful kisser.” “I promise, Swan, that we are friends first, and also that I am most certainly not an awful kisser.”

She slaps his arm with her other hand as she squeezes her pinky tighter. They may be approaching thirty years of age, but pinky promises hold the same weight as they did at twelve. She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh, sure. We’ll see about that, KJ.”

It’s practically unfathomable to him that their promise was less than three months ago and yet everything has changed. He always thought he knew Emma better than he knew himself, but her dismissal of him proved to be a massive blindside, no warning in sight.

Worse was the lack of return to their normal friendship and the subsequent breaking of their initial promise, but he probably should’ve expected something like this. Emma is an enigma. Beautiful, and funny, and driven and strong, but also a bloody mystery.

For fourteen perfect days he thought they may finally get their shot at what he'd hoped would be something brilliant. But brilliant was not in the cards for Killian— it hadn’t been most of his life and it seems, when it came to his feelings for Emma, it would be no different.

Now it’s her and Neal and it has been for the better part of a month and a half. The kicker is, it’s all thanks to Killian. Neal couldn’t charm a girl to save his life and wasted no time in resorting to asking Killian for guidance. Little does he know, Killian’s head over heels for the woman he’s trying to swoon.

Details.

He helps craft text messages and gifts as well as aids in the planning for their numerous dates. Killian pulls from the depths of his love for Emma, because all he really wants is for her to be happy. He’d hoped that he’d play a part in that equation one way or another, and while he supposes he does have a role, he never would’ve guessed it would be in this way.

While he remains lost in thought, he somehow finds himself back at his flat. As he ascends the old staircase, he has to catch himself from tripping up the top step. He can’t help but be distracted by the woman sitting against his apartment door.

“Took you long enough, KJ.” She smiles at him and it sparks emotion in him he didn’t realize he was harboring. It seems over a month of watching her fall for his carefully coached understudy has finally gotten under his skin. How can she smile at him as though nothing has changed?

Tempering his anger, he answers her a shrug. She seems to get the message and moves out from in front of his door as he looks down to search for his key.

Bloody hell.

Robin insisted he leave his car keys– with no argument from Killian– but he had forgotten to remove the flat key from his ring. Defeated, Killian leans his head forward until it connects with the cool wood of his front door. For a moment he forgets he’s not alone, the small buzz of alcohol messing with his usual tack sharp retention, but soon Emma is digging in her purse and pulls out the spare key he gave her long before.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Killian.”

“Calm down, Swan, I’m not proposing you move in. I just want you to have it in case of emergencies.”

She shrugs and he’ll be damned if there wasn’t a slight hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Fair enough. Call me next time you’re too drunk to remember to take your key ring.”

He shakes the memory from his head as Emma unlocks the door. Killian continues inside and she waits, hesitating in the frame of the door. “When did we get like this, Swan?” He winces as the words leave his mouth, but the damage is done. Apparently rum effects more than his short term memory, leaving his carefully placed filter seemingly full of gaping holes.

At first she looks taken aback, but she must reason that she deserves this on some level because she sighs deeply and answers his pointed question, “I broke the pinky promise.”

That was not what Killian was expecting, but he answers all the same, “Aye, I s’pose we both did.”

Emma shakes her head. “KJ– Killian… you and I both know that’s not true.” Killian starts to interject but she continues before he gets the chance, “You’ve put me first since the moment we met, and even more so over the past month. Even after I just… I just feel so stupid to not have seen it before now…”

Emma trails off and Killian wraps his mind around what she’s saying– it doesn’t take long for him to realize that she knows. “How?” He meant for something more profound or curious, but the words escaped him– anything polysyllabic seeming near impossible to comprehend.

Emma rolls her eyes, but he can tell the annoyance is not directed at him. He can always tell when it comes to Emma– that’s why he was so certain they were made for one another. “Neal asked to pinky swear that I’d go on a date with him next week and apparently you didn’t know I reserved those just for you. Not to mention the glare you gave him back at Sherwood’s probably could’ve killed someone. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together...”

Killian didn’t know pinky swears were reserved for him, but to be honest, he didn’t know anything Emma did was reserved for anyone. Emma Swan is a firecracker set off in the middle of January. She lights her own path and kicks down her own doors. Fierce independence is the first trait that always comes to Killian’s mind, most likely a product of the absolute shit life she led growing up. She never let it phase her. The admiration he holds for this woman is leaps and bounds beyond what he thought capable for any one man, yet she stands here today starting an awkward conversation and standing her ground and he couldn’t be more entranced.

He loves her.

“You broke your promise.” That’s certainly not what he wanted to say, but he supposes just because he’d walk through fire for her, doesn’t mean the pain won’t linger.

“I was scared, KJ.” He scoffs, he doesn’t mean to, not really, but he knows Emma doesn’t get scared. She’s as fearless as they come.

“You don’t get scared, Emma.” She flinches at his use of her real name but recovers quickly.

“Hah,” Emma laughs sarcastically. She seems to think he’s kidding but he can tell the moment she recognizes the sincerity of this moment. She whispers, “You terrify me, Killian.”

His heart breaks a little and with its crack, the flood gates open; the anger that washes away bringing to light all that he’s been denying for the better part of 16 years. He’s scared of her, too. Scared she could do real damage, scared she could break him to the point of no return, but Killian is a risk taker. He always has been, especially if that risk involves Emma Swan. He thought she was a risk taker too, but she chose to play it safe.

Because she feels the exact same way.

It hits him like a tidal wave, and he says the first thing he can think of, “I could never hurt you, Swan.” He hopes she can hear the conviction in his voice, his words ringing truer than any he’s spoken before.

“Most people who fall in love don’t intend to hurt one another, Killian.” He realizes what she’s saying but he can’t help but get hung up on one word:

Love.

She loves him. She may not know it yet, but she does. That’s enough for him to try.

He steps forward, every inch with less hesitation until they’re standing toe to toe. He can smell remnants of the bar on her, but it’s mixed with her comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla that he’s come to recognize as his favorite. He’s positive he still smells like a barrel of Captain Morgan, but the buzz he feels is no longer from the rum. (Apparently emotional revelations are a quite sobering.)

“I’m all in, Swan.” He pauses. “Please don’t push me away.”

She doesn’t look at him, but he feels her fingers brush the hem of his vest and he can’t stop the shiver that rushes up his spine. It only intensifies when she speaks, “I can’t promise I won’t run again.”

“Aye,” he gently grabs her chin, urging her to look him in the eye, “but I promise, so long as you want me, I’ll be there to chase you and bring you home.”

She smiles brightly and starts to lean in for a kiss before stopping abruptly and raising her pinky to eye level, “Pinky swear?”

Killian can’t help but laugh as he once again connects his pinky to hers, “Pinky swear, Swan.”

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 10

"I can't believe Takako duped us like that!" Colten said, fuming in anger. "We underestimated her, and she's gotten stronger!"

"It didn't fool me for a second." Mr. Kiyojiro said.

"What?!" Aiko, Colten, and Seina exclaimed in surprise.

Seina's bodyguard smirked. "It wasn't like she made it difficult. She barely acted differently than her normal self."

"I suppose." Seina blushed in embarrassment. The deception was obvious if you stopped to consider it.

Mr. Kiyojiro rubbed the back of his neck, his turn to be embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I allowed her to train with you because I thought she'd be a good rival to increase your abilities."

Her bodyguard's mood darkened, voice tinged with self-loathing. "I never considered she might team up with the vampires. It almost got you killed."

"Yeah…"

"It's fine!" Aiko said, trying to disrupt the dark mood that had overtaken the room. "She saved my life, remember? I'm certain we can become friends again."

"You want her back?" Seina said, annoyed. After everything, why was her friend so quick to forgive the dark magical girl? "She hates me, remember?"

"Oh, that's just Maeko, er, Takako, being her usual self. I'm confident she doesn't really hate you." Aiko puffed out her chest. "We had a lot of fun together, didn't we?"

Siena looked away. "I'm still not sure I want her around." While part of her understood Aiko's argument, the nastier part of her refused to forgive Takako's deception and betrayal. It was childish, but Seina couldn't help herself.

A weak smile appeared on Aiko's lips. "Okay, I can't force you to be friends. Still, open your heart to forgive her, okay?"

"Sure." Seina changed the subject, wanting to discuss something less painful. "I still have the entire day off. How about we celebrate my victory with some lunch? We still haven't tried that ramen place you recommended, Mr. Kiyojiro."

Much to her relief, this restored her bodyguard's mood, and he nodded. "It isn't far from here."

"Actually, could you go without me?" Aiko said.

Seina blinked. "You aren't hungry?"

"There's some matter I need to attend to. Go and have fun. I'll catch up with you later." Aiko gave her friends a wink. "And I'll come with a special surprise! Later." With a wave, her girl dashed off in the other direction.

"Okay," Seina said, after some reluctance.

"What's she up to, I wonder?" Colten asked, before shrugging. "More ramen for me! All that action has made me starving!"

A pebble fell over the bridge as Takako kicked it away. Since she'd ruined her day-out plans with Seina and the others, it left her little to do. Without Nier, she couldn't leave this universe, unable to escape her shame. It burned her that Seina had given her mercy. Not that Takako wished to die, but it was still a black mark, regardless. Her stomach rumbled, and she groaned, hanging her arms over the bridge's railing. Why hadn't she fought with her rival after they'd gotten lunch first?

Should I go back to Lilha's place and raid her fridge? Still, it meant encountering her former ally, and Takako despised seeing a reminder of her shame. Because of that woman, Aiko had gotten hurt, and Takako found she couldn't forgive herself for it.

Wonderful. I just realized something. Without Lilha, I don't have a place to live anymore. I'm homeless and trapped. Did this mean she'd need to live in a cardboard box by the river until Nier returned? Or live in an abandoned building full of rats? Takako grimaced when her stomach rumbled again. She gasped as someone pushed a bento box into her face.

Takako glanced up to find Aiko smiling down at her, carrying her own bento box. "You haven't had lunch yet, right? I thought I'd join you."

For a moment, Takako hesitated taking the lunch box. She hated taking charity. Was this some kind of trick? A way to mock her for her failure? Yet, Takako sensed genuine kindness behind Aiko's smile. Her stomach growled again, and she grabbed the box, grasping the chopstick inside.

"I don't know what you're scheming, but thanks," Takako placed her back against the railing.

"I just thought you needed a friend," Aiko replied, joining her. She gave thanks for the meal and dug into her bento box.

"Friend?" Despite her hunger, Takako still hesitated, staring at her meal untouched. "After what happened, I thought you hated me, like Seina."

"Hate you? Nah. I never hold grudges. Waste of time." Aiko waved a dismissive hand.

Takako only stared at the girl, dumbstruck. "Really?"

"And I doubt Seina hates you either," Aiko said. "She doesn't take betrayal well. She's had a bad history with it. Are you going to eat or what?"

Takako mentally slapped herself and gave thanks for the meal. She grabbed a piece of shrimp and bit into it before gasping in amazement. It was spectacular!

Aiko smirked when she caught her friend's expression. "I'm glad you like it. A really nice old lady down the street likes making them for people. She was a famous chef before the vampires came. We're old friends."

They ate in silence for several moments before Takako broke it. "She truly doesn't hate me? Maybe she should. She wasn't completely wrong." Seina's accusations still burned in her mind with its unwavering conviction.

"Yeah, she was right," Aiko said, nodding, making Takako wince. The girl caught her reaction. "What? I won't lie and say it's a good thing you've allowed people to get hurt through your inaction."

"Thanks."

"But I won't say you're hopeless either," Aiko said. "If you were evil, you would have allowed that brute to kill me. I don't believe anyone is beyond redemption regardless of their past actions."

"You're a marvel, Aiko. You know that?"

"Huh?"

"The others argued I was too dangerous to leave alive, but not you. After everything you've suffered through, I thought you'd be the first to condemn me for my sins."

Aiko snorted. "That's because I can see people's hearts. Besides, most people aren't evil regardless of what they've done. They just need to do better. Or, that's what my mom always tells me, anyway."

"What makes you think I want to be good?" Takako asked defensively.

"I'm not asking you to be a saint," Aiko said, snorting. "How did you even get into this magical girl business, anyway? You seem to hate it."

"You're not wrong," Takako said, admitting the truth. "I'm not like the other magical girls. I don't like hurting people. As for how I became one…" She hesitated. It wasn't a story she'd told anyone else before. It had been so long ago, Takako had almost forgotten it. No, that wasn't true. She hadn't wanted to remember. Yet, something about Aiko made Takako want to trust her.

After taking a deep breath, Takako began her story. "It began almost three hundred years ago. I was just an ordinary girl. Plenty of sass, sure. It drove my parents and teachers up a wall, but ordinary. One day, my fairy partner appeared to me while I was sitting on a bridge, not unlike this one. I'd had a fight with my parents and wanted to be alone. They wanted me to attend a cram school, and I hadn't taken it well. Nier, he offered me the universe with the power to do anything. I was so angry and frustrated with my boring, ordinary life that I accepted without hesitation."

"They told me magical girls exist to cause suffering, but I was more interested in exploring the cosmos. Some magical girls like to burn their homeworld as an initiation ritual to join the order. I just left and never looked back. I ignored my magical girl duties and went exploring." Takako smirked. "It annoyed Nier to no end, but the multiverse is a beautiful place.."

Takako's mood darkened when she remembered the next part. "I'm immortal, and the cosmos is a huge place. When I finally remembered to return home, over four decades had passed. Everything I'd known had long disappeared. My brother already had teenagers, and my parents had long since passed. My disappearance devastated them. They never really recovered."

An unexpected tear slid down her face. "They loved me so much. They did everything to find me. Every day my disappearance tormented them, and I was gallivanting around the universe. Our relationship wasn't the best, but I loved them." How had she allowed herself to forget it? She'd been such a child. Aiko grabbed her hand and squeezed, giving Takako some measure of comfort.

"After that…" Takako trailed off.

After learning about her parent's fate, she ran away again, unable to bear the reality of what she'd done. It had been too painful. Her brother would be long dead now, forgotten by history. She had never even visited his grave. Takako couldn't deny Seina's accusation. She was cowardly.

"It's okay." Aiko pulled her into an unexpected hug, and Takako cried into her shoulder. Long suppressed emotions spilled out like a burst dam.

After several minutes, Takako wiped her eyes. "I'm such an idiot. Look at me. I'm a mess." Yet, the cry paradoxically felt good, not realizing how much she'd needed it. Aiko continued to say nothing, using her presence to comfort her new friend instead.

"I suppose once you grow accustomed to being alone, you forget how good it is to be around people," Takako considered her relationship with Neir. Could she even really consider him a friend? It pained Takako to realize she couldn't answer that question.

Aiko smiled and nodded. "That's true. But remember, you aren't alone. You have Seina and me."

This made Takako flinch. "If she'll even take me back."

"She will. Just give her time."

A horrible realization came to Takako's mind. "I've basically betrayed our order! The other magical girls won't tolerate such treachery." And her fairy partner would have an aneurysm.

"You haven't told them about Seina yet, have you? After your first fight with Seina, we'd assumed you'd returned home."

"No, but Nier went to Starlight Dream to gather more info about Seina's weird powers. She shouldn't be that powerful. He might have told someone." Takako sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter, regardless. My report about this universe is super late. They're bound to send someone." They tolerated Takako's laziness, but only to a point.

Aiko clapped her hands together. "That's no big deal. Together with Seina, I'm sure you'll make an unstoppable team!"

"I'm only a lowly grunt. You have no idea how powerful the Devil Princesses and their minions are." Wait, had she just resigned herself to betraying Starlight Dream?

No, I suppose I don't want to go back. They're a bunch of jerks, anyway.

"Can you teach Seina how to better use her abilities? She's been trying to learn magic, but it hasn't really worked out."

"Maybe? I'm surprised she hadn't already. Normally, magic comes intuitively to magical girls. She has her weapon already. It should be enough." Another oddity about Seina. What the hell was she, anyway?

"It's something, I suppose. But we can worry about that later." A mischievous smile appeared on Aiko's face. "In the meantime, how about we go shopping as we planned? I really want to see that trendy place I mentioned earlier. And I have a fantastic idea to help you get back into Seina's good graces."

Takako blinked. "Really?"

"We'll get her a cute purse. It will be a great makeup present."

"Okay." Takako shrugged and quickly finished her bento box. "I'm actually in the mood for some shopping." Even if she bought nothing, Takako loved trying on cool outfits. Besides, it would be fun to go out shopping with someone. Nier hated doing it and whined about every single time.

Aiko beamed, grabbing Takako by the hand. The girls giggled as they ran towards the shopping district. Takako's heart felt lighter than it ever had in several centuries.

"Yo, we're back!" Aiko waved as they entered the training dojo, her hands full of bags.

It had taken several hours, but they'd found several outfits Aiko was certain Seina would love. After their shopping session, they'd gone back to Aiko's house, and Takako had spent the night over. Aiko's parents had been very kind, treating Takako like a second daughter. It surprised the magical girl how much she'd missed having an adult fret over her. Plus, Takako was beyond grateful she didn't need to spend the night on the street. Aiko's parents were happy to have her sleep over anytime. It gave her a home base while she considered things.

Takako still wasn't certain she wanted to turn against Starlight Dream and the Devil Princesses. It was an insane risk. Yet she couldn't stand the thought of anyone hurting Aiko. She'd at least train with Seina for the time being and get stronger. Their fight had reminded Takako how far she still needed to go.

"Oh, so you brought her." Mr. Kiyojiro said, scowling when he spotted Takako.

"Uh, hi." Seina gave Takako an awkward wave, not eager to see the dark magical girl, either. Colten watched the unwanted newcomer with suspicion.

"We brought gifts!" Aiko said, beaming, and pushed bags into Takako's hands.

"What?" Takako suddenly became self-conscious. Aiko wanted her to present the gifts to Seina? Her friend gave an encouraging smile, and Takako steeled her nerves. Here goes nothing.

"Here, I got you these," Takako said, voice stiff. "I'm sorry for what happened. It was wrong for me to betray your trust like that."

Seina accepted the offering, peering into the bags. Colten joined her, peering over her shoulder. The girl's face brightened when she lifted the purse out.

"It's so cute! Thank you!" The purse had stitchings of lotus blossoms sewn onto its side. It had taken many shops to find it.

"There's more in there, too. We found you this sundress you're sure to love!" Aiko gave a wink.

"Huh." Seina peered deeper into the bags.

"Do you really expect a purse and a few dresses will make up for your past transgressions?" Mr. Kiyojiro gave Takako the stink eye.

"Yes, actually. Stay out of this. These are girl matters!" Aiko said, matching the bodyguard's glare.

"It's a start, at least," Seina said.

"It's not bad." Colten gave Takako an encouraging smile, accepting the apology.

"Don't expect me to help you fight against other magical girls," Takako said, trying to regain her cool factor. She couldn't allow her rival to see her as going soft. "But we aren't enemies anymore either."

"Everything is mended!" Aiko nodded in satisfaction. "Now you can train together again."

"Uh, actually." Seina rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm Seina's new training partner!" A giant brute with a mohawk walked into the gym. "The name's Masato Shibata."

"What?" Takako said, baffled. Wasn't this one of Lotus Butcher's goons? The memory of the fake magical girl still caused her to stutter in horror.

"We couldn't find anyone else." Mr. Kiyojiro didn't seem pleased by the idea either. "Some vampire was threatening girls to not train with Seina, and they're too scared to argue."

"Don't worry, sensei. With my Fist of the Scorpio, Seina skills will be unstoppable!" Masato smacked the bodyguard across the back, earning a further glare from him.

"No, we're sticking with karate." Mr. Kiyojiro replied without compromise. "Besides, you literally only know one move."

Masato coughed into his fist. "Well, they kicked me out before I could learn much else. But I've supplemented it with my own self-taught techniques."

"Your useless self-taught techniques you mean." Mr. Kiyojiro shot back.

"Now, let's not fight," Seina said, trying to avoid a bigger argument. "We're glad to have him, regardless." Though this was an obvious lie.

"I'll prove my worth, you'll see," Masato said.

"Hey, what about me?!" Takako said, unable to hold back her frustration any longer. They'd replaced her with this lug?! It was beyond an insult!

"You've lost your right." Mr. Kiyojiro said, crossing his arms. "I don't see any reason why I should train you any longer."

"Give her another chance!" Aiko's glare intensified.

"No, I'm not changing my mind on this." Mr. Kiyojiro said, refusing to budge.

"Forget it! I don't need these guys!" Takako stormed out of the room. It twisted her insides when Seina didn't move to stop her. Only Aiko loyally stood by her side.

"Damnit!" Takako kicked a trash can, which made a satisfying thud when it crashed to the ground.

"Those two." Aiko rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe how uncompromising Mr. Kiyojiro is! The jerk!"

Takako's entire body sagged. "I guess they don't want me around."

Behind them, someone coughed. It was Seina. "He means well, but Mr. Kiyojiro is hard headed sometimes. So, uh, sorry. That could have gone better."

Seina fidgeted on her feet before gaining the courage to speak again. "I really enjoyed the time we trained together. I won't mind continuing our training, but it won't be full-time or anything. Though, I'm not sure I'd be a great teacher."

"Seina." Takako said, lost for words.

Aiko beamed, glad her two friends were mending their differences. She suddenly turned thoughtful. "Actually, I have a better idea!" The two girls gave her an expectant look.

"How about Takako finds her own master? Then you two can spar in your free time. It's a great way to hone your skills. Besides, karate doesn't really suit Takako, anyway."

"You're a genius!" Besides, Takako had hated training under Mr. Kiyojiro, not liking the subtle disapproval he radiated whenever she was around.

Seina nodded in approval. "We can meet together in one month's time and spar to see what we've learned! Without powers, of course."

"I'll be there!" Takako would beat Seina, but in her own style.

While she hadn't become friends with Seina, Takako valued their rivalry. It brought some excitement to her usually dull magical girl life. They extended their hands and shook on it with Aiko's hand sitting on top of it. Takako couldn't wait for next month.

Still, it offered a burning question Takako hadn't considered until now. Where would she find a new martial arts master in a ravaged world barely recovering from the vampire's evil reign?

When she asked Aiko about this, the girl only smirked. "Don't worry. I have plenty of contacts. They'll find you something."

"Okay," While still unconvinced, Takako wouldn't argue the point. Her upcoming battle with Seina sparked a fire within her, and she was eager to see what awaited her down this strange new path.

[riversofmars]

Chapter 12: Expectations

Skaro

“I think I would chose a more comfortable place to die, to be honest…“

Missy looked up to see the Emperor stepping out of his TARDIS that had materialised in the medical centre. He looked around slightly bemused and his eyes fell on the pair in front of him. Missy sat with Davros who was looking old and frail.

“And better company, too.“ He added as he pulled out the confessionary dial from his coat pocket.

“Is that why you’re here?“ Missy eyed the dial he was turning in his hand. She was surprised he’d actually bothered to come.

“I’m still your best and oldest friend is seems.“ He chuckled before chucking the dial at her dismissively.

“Well, this is… atmospheric.“ River stepped into the doorway of the TARDIS, seemingly bored of waiting inside. She looked around and wrinkled her nose.

“Don’t worry, dear, won’t be staying long.“ The Emperor turned to her, extending his hand, ever the gentleman, as she stepped out of the TARDIS as well.

“It seems congratulations are in order, Doctor, albeit a bit late.“ Davros’s voice was weak but the distaste was obvious.

“Ah yes, been a while Davros. How’s life. Thought I was here to watch Missy die, not you, but perhaps it’s my lucky day and it’s both of you.“ The Emperor smirked at him, ignoring the use of his old alias. Instead he turned to his wife. “River, Davros and Missy, Davros and Missy, my lovely wife Professor River Song.“ He introduced them with great amusement.

“I hear it was quite the wedding.“ Davros turned his chair to face them, doing his best to appear strong but the way he reached for Missy’s hand betrayed him. Missy stood, regarding the couple in front of them. She had not met the Emperor’s wife before, he had been alone when they had stood amongst the Cybermen. She had, however, heard all about their wedding day, the entire universe had.

“Yeah, lovely day, wasn’t it, dear.“ The Emperor smirked and River sighed:

“Why are we here?“

“Yes, why are we?“ He looked to Missy. “Are you quite certain you’re about to die or should we come back later?“

“I’m not, no.“ Missy replied curtly and as if on cue, all doors to the medical wing opened and Daleks rushed in, surrounding the TARDIS. The trap was sprung.

“Ohhh, would you look at that.“ The Emperor grinned and raised his impressive eyebrows, there was a sense of excitement about his expression.

“I’m about to die, Doctor, the last thing I wanted to see with my own eyes was the sun rising on a world that’s finally safe from you.“ Davros spoke, summoning his last ounce of strength. When he had taken this suggestion to the Master, she had not been keen, but he had had to try, so here they were.

“That’s low, Missy, setting a trap like this, I would have thought it beyond you.“ The Emperor looked to Missy with mild amusement.

“Someone has to stop you.“ She retorted calmly, trying her best to hide how uncomfortable the situation was making her.

“Did you think you were being clever? You know I would come if you sent me that dial, didn’t you.“ The Emperor stepped away from the TARDIS circling around the room as if the Daleks weren’t even there as he regarded the medical equipment. Davros really was the one dying here, not Missy. River watched her husband, Missy could tell she was feeling nervous about him leaving her side, but she remained quiet and watched.

“I knew it would get your attention.“ Missy focused on the Emperor again.

“And you, Davros, one last thing to do before you finally give up the ghost?“ The Emperor asked, his voice condescending. “Look at all this, keeping yourself alive, I know what you need…“ He returned his attention to the medical equipment and his hands turned golden with regenerative energy.

“Sweetie!“ River called out when she realised what he was doing but it was too late, he grabbed hold of the tubes connected to Davros.  

“You’re making us stronger. Why…“ Davros looked to the Emperor in shock. He felt his strength growing and with him, the Daleks all around.

“No, stop it.“ Missy called out as she realised what he was doing and pushed him away with some force. The Emperor stumbled and caught himself. He regarded her with a grin as he returned to his wife.

“Ah see, you’re not half as stupid as you look.“ He smirked as Davros turned to Missy looking for an explanation.

“The sewers, Davros.“ Missy said grimly and focused on the Emperor again who delighted in the sense of panic that spread amongst the Daleks.

“No.“ There was rumbling far below the city and realisation dawned on Davros’s drawn features.

“Never forget who you are dealing with.“ The Emperor grinned with wicked delight. “Now have a unpleasant death.“

“No!“ Missy called but he ignored her and pushed the door to the TARDIS open. He put his arm around River’s shoulder.

“Kill him!“ Davros shouted to the Daleks but they weren’t listening, desperately looking for a way out as rumble below their feet became louder.

“How can you just stand by and watch this, River, you were raised better than this!“ Missy burst out catching River’s eye as she turned to follow her husband. Madame Kovarian had told her and made her peace, before she went to the godforsaken wedding. And now, Missy could only look at the girl she had tried to protect with disbelief and hurt. River looked back and Missy hoped for a moment she sensed her stalling but then she just carried on into the TARDIS without looking back.

——

“I think they’re on to you.“ River perched on the bed when Clara opened the the door. The visitors had long left and River had gotten bored waiting by the door. She knew Clara would come back for her eventually.

“She’s always like that.“ Clara waved off her comment and chucked some clothes at River. “You might want to get changed, you stand out.“ She gestured to her environmental suit.

“Are we going for a candle light dinner?“ River raised her eyebrows at the silky gown Clara had given her as she held it up.

“Get changed, then we talk.“ Clara rolled her eyes at her and turned to leave again.

“Are you going to be honest with me now?“ River called after her but didn’t get a response.

When River emerged from the small bedroom, she found Clara had tidied up the mess she had made earlier and a meal had been laid out on the table. Clara was just pouring herself a glass of wine and looked up. The gown fit well, of course it did, it belonged to the other River after all. Clara made a mental note to see to some shoes as River was barefoot at the moment. Her sense of style probably didn’t allow her to wear the practical boots with a pretty dress.

“Candle light dinner after all?“ River questioned, noticing that Clara had got changed as well, though in her case it was probably just because her shirt had been blood stained. The cut up her arm appeared to be bandaged up now, at least so it seemed from the bulge under the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I don’t know which one of you I find more irritating.“ Clara sighed taking a sip of her wine as she waited for her to sit.

“Me or my twin from this universe you mean?“ River asked as she sat and poured herself a drink as well. The food looked delicious and she felt she needed a drink right about now. So why not take advantage of the opportunity? She didn’t have anything better to do.

“You’re quick.�� Clara observed as she helped herself to food.

“Wasn’t exactly hard to figure out listening to your conversation with them.“ River shrugged mirroring Clara’s actions. “Makes a whole lot more sense now why you need the Doctor’s help.“

“You’ve only just arrived, you haven’t seen the damage the Emperor has done.“ Clara started but River laughed:

“You can cut the crap, there is no need to pretend with me. You don’t care about the population or anything else.“ She took a sip of the wine and regarded Clara over the rim of the glass. “You just want the power, which is fair enough, I don’t like playing second fiddle either. But here is my question: She trusted you once, she doesn’t seem to be the sort of person that trusts people easily, so at some point you were loyal to her. What changed?“

“I don’t think I owe you an explanation.“ Clara retorted cooly as she cut a piece off the steak on her plate.

“You don’t but you will give me one.“ River replied leaning forward.

“Is that so?“ Clara chuckled, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes because you want something from me.“ River nodded skewering green beans with her fork.

“And what makes you say that?“ Clara asked tilting her head a little.

“You could have just left me in that room until tomorrow afternoon when everything is done. If you just needed me to be able to blackmail the Doctor, you wouldn’t have wasted your precious time on me. But here we are, having a meal together, wine is good too, so you want something from me.“ River took another sip of her wine. It actually was very nice.

“I did say you were quick.“ Clara smirked, she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or unsettled by her quick deduction but she figured either way, it would make things easier.

“So before you tell me what it is you want from me, butter me up a little and let me in on why you’re doing this.“ River leaned forward. She couldn’t deny she was a little intrigued. It wasn’t every day one visited a parallel universe and met different version of themselves. “There was no small measure of animosity between you and my twin. Something happen between you?“

“Nothing springs to mind.“ Clara shrugged cutting another piece of meat.

“Oh so this isn’t about how you’re in love with the Emperor and want her all to yourself but can’t because she’s married and faithful and if you can’t have her, then no-one should?“ River mused nonchalantly. “I mean, that’s just the general vibe I’m getting, I could be wrong… I only listened in a little.“ She shrugged and took another bite as she watched with amusement as Clara’s expression went from surprised to angry to embarrassed. “I couldn’t care less, Clara, it’s not my wife you’re after.“ It had been Clara’s statement to the Doctor about how she wasn’t going to convince the Emperor that she was a more suitable match that had given her away.

“You have no idea what it’s like, you have her! You wouldn’t understand!“ Clara snapped, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She was starting to dislike this River as much as the one she knew, though for different reasons. She couldn’t stand how she acted like she could just see right through her.

“I think I understand far better than you know.“ River sighed. “So this place… it’s not just a parallel universe, it’s a mirror universe, isn’t that right?“ She looked over to the window, looking out over the Citadel. “We’re opposites of each other so to speak?“ She looked back to Clara. “Where the Doctor is kind, the Emperor is cruel?“ She had to be sure she was getting this right, a lot would depend on it.

“I suppose so.“ Clara replied reluctantly, she hadn’t given it too much thought but it certainly appeared that way. From what she had learned from the Doctor so far, their universe was as different to theirs as it could possibly be.

“What of my parents, Amy and Rory, are they here?“ River pressed on.

“They are.“

“Not trapped in Manhattan then, and I’m not dead. Different choices, due to different personality, different outcome.“ She was speaking to herself more than anything else as she worked through the information.

“What is your point?“ Clara carried on eating, trying not to get unnerved.

“Well, I’m just trying to understand. I don’t know you, Clara, not in my universe, I must have died before the Doctor travelled with you… So we never would have had competed for the Doctor’s affection.“ River tilted her head, looking Clara up and down. She was certainly pretty, she couldn’t deny that. She wondered what the Clara in their universe was like.

“If it makes you feel better, she said she never had romantic feelings for her Clara.“ Clara huffed.

“Wouldn’t have made a difference to me, I was dead. I would want them to be happy.“ River shrugged. “Believe me, we’re not that exclusive…“ She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What?“ Clara looked at her utterly confused.

“You find that hard to believe, don’t you? Different personalities, remember?“ River pointed out.

“But you love the Doctor.“ Clara frowned.

“Of course I do. With all my hearts. And she loves me, I know she does. She just broke every rule in the universe to bring me back. I once broke time for her. It happens.“ River laughed a little, thinking about the lengths they had both gone to for each other.

“But…“ Clara didn’t know what to make of her statements, it made no sense to her.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that your River and I have made different experiences with our spouses. River has always been with the Doctor, sorry, Emperor, since you’ve known them, right?“ River asked, noticing how Clara had stopped eating, she was clearly intrigued.

“Of course, they barely spend any time apart…“ Clara confirmed.

“So I imagine she’s scared about losing her. To the universe or to anyone else for that matter.“ River carried on, her suspicions confirmed.

“What do you mean by that?“ Clara asked.

“The Doctor and I have been all over each other’s timeline, out of order, bad timing, stolen moments, there was some time together, yes, one very long night… but our relationship was never what your Emperor and her wife seem to be enjoying.“ River explained, putting her cutlery down as well.

“That’s…“ Clara was surprised, she didn’t know what to say.

“Sad? I guess so. But I’m grateful for the time we had. And I learned not to hold the Doctor too tightly. I learned to be grateful for those moments and that our bond is stronger than time itself. That’s why I’m not scared or worried about her devotion to me. What we have is bigger than that. So, what I’m guessing is whatever your River has been through, the life she has had with her Doctor… she’s clinging on to them because she’s scared of losing them. That’s why she’s jealous. That’s why she’s confrontational. She’s insecure about what they have. Mirror opposite to me.“ Of course River couldn’t be sure, she had never met the woman, but it made a lot of sense to her. She knew the feeling all too well. Before she had met the newly regenerated Doctor on their trip to Darillium, she had assumed he didn’t love her nearly as much as she loved him. He had spent twenty-four years showing her how wrong she had been. Then it had been time to part ways again, knowing it might well have been their last night together. River had only been able to do it because she had finally realised how strong their bond truly was. And now, she was here, after the Doctor had saved her from certain death, proving her right, yet again.  

Clara didn't know what to say, she just looked at River dumbfounded. In the same way as the Doctor was soft and kind in comparison to the Emperor’s roughness and cruelty, she had expected this River to also be a more mellow and sweet version of the tough and short-tempered empress she knew. But it seemed as though River was far more conflicted in her motivations than she had anticipated and her mirror image wasn’t as clear cut as the others.

Almost as if River had read her mind, she carried on:

“Did you think because she’s tough, I had to be weak? Some people are more complicated and I can only presume, this will be the case for her and me. We all carry both good and bad in us, some of us more than most.“ River swirled her wine. She was curious about the other River now. She knew herself to be someone who at any given time was able to go one way or the other. There was one determining force in her life, the same she presumed to be true for her counterpart: “She may be cruel and tough but she’s doing it for her. Just like I’m being good for the Doctor. We both just want to make them happy. Love can do that to you. Make you change everything about yourself so you can be the person they want and need you to be. I’m a psychopath, the Doctor will confirm it. I was born and raised to kill the Doctor. Of course, I fell in love with them instead but the damage is done. And she’s not here right now.“ River leaned forward setting her glass down. “I’m also a pragmatist. I’ll do what I can to help people, particularly when it aligns with my own interests, but we it’s a choice of me or them? Well.“

“You’re… not what I expected.“ Clara shook her head in disbelief, chuckling.

“No?“ River grinned amused. “Well, we’ve only just met.“

“Why are you telling me all this?“ Clara asked leaning forward as well.

“Because you’re about to ask me to help you and I want you to know what sort of a person you’re dealing with. I love the Doctor. I will do anything to keep her safe. So before you do something stupid like threaten to harm her in any way or put her in danger, just tell me what you want from me so we can get out of here. I have no interest in this place and your squabbles. The agreement you had with my wife stands. We help and you give us the TARDIS.“ River reached for the wine bottle to refill her glass.

“That was… far easier than I anticipated.“ Clara shook her head to herself unable to believe her luck.

“Why?“ River took a sip of her drink. This really was good wine. “Did you expect me to kick up a fuss?“

“Well, yes.“ Clara laughed and held out her glass to River who obliged and filled it. “I’m about to ask you to impersonate the Emperor’s wife, sneak into their quarters and kill the Emperor while I deal with her wife. Does that not bother you?“

“Is that all?“ River chuckled.

——

“Darling, you must know that she is playing you, you must!“ River burst out when they returned to their quarters and the door closed behind them.

“River…“ The Emperor sighed, then chuckled. She really was persistent, wasn’t she.

“No, don’t shot me down again, you already humiliated me by doing it back there, now you listen!“ River snapped, her emotions bubbling over. She couldn’t believe her wife refused to see it. For a long time her dislike of Clara had been with very little factual reason, she admitted it. It perhaps was a little childish and born out of an insecurity that she usually kept well hidden, but things were different now. This was not a time for wishful thinking or blind loyalty.

“No, you listen!“ The Emperor interrupted her. She reached for River’s hand but her wife pulled away, still angry. She was just about to go off on another rant but the Emperor pushed her index finger against her lips to shush her. “I know she’s up to something, River, I’m not blind! Of course she is.“ She smirked and River’s face fell, her continued protest dying on her lips. The Emperor reached out and took her face in her hands and reassured her. “There was no denying it now.“

“Then why…“ River looked at her perplexed and annoyed in equal measures. She was relieved of course but confused as to why she hadn’t said so before.

“What do we gain from putting her down now? If she is indeed in league with the Doctor or has somehow secured her cooperation, they will meet up again.“ The Emperor explained.

“You want to see what she’s up to?“ River huffed. It made sense of course but she would have preferred she didn’t take the risk.

“They have to be up to something. At first I thought it was just a matter of escape for the Doctor but she came back to talk to Clara… there must be more to it.“ The Emperor mused. She let go of River and strolled over to the drinks cabinet. They had gone from viewing the Doctor as a valuable asset of information, to having to worry about a treasonous plot in their midst. If this was really the case, she had underestimated the Doctor, the Emperor had to admit it. She felt River’s eyes on her and looked around to find genuine worry painted all over it. “She won’t outwit us.“ She sat down her glass without drinking and returned to her wife, more concerned with her wellbeing. She brushed River’s curls back and gave her a reassuring smile, something much softer than anything anyone outside of this room ever got to see. “We keep a close eye on her. When she has led us to the Doctor, and her disloyalty is proven, we can get rid of her.“ The Emperor leaned forward and kissed her wife softly to reassure her.

“I want to be the one to kill her.“ River said after brief contemplation.

“Why does that not surprise me?“ The Emperor chuckled. “You hated her all along.“

“I like her just fine. I hate the way she’s throwing herself at you.“ River huffed looping her arms around her wife’s neck.

“As I have told you many times, you don’t have to worry about my loyalty to you.“ The Emperor winked and carried on teasingly: “Talking of… so about the Doctor?“

“Yes, well, I hope you can forgive the little indiscretion.“ River sighed though somewhat amused. Of course she had told her wife about it straight away, they didn’t keep secrets.

“Oh, I don’t blame you.“ The Emperor chuckled. She hadn’t been wild about the whole thing when River had first told her, but she knew and trusted her like no-one else. There was a bigger picture to look at and she was starting to find the whole thing quite amusing. “I would have loved to have seen her face when she realised you played her.“

“She would have kept going as well… it’s quite sad really, she must miss her…“ River mused as she tenderly brushed her wife’s hair back. “I wonder what happened to her.“

“The Doctor’s fault, no doubt.“ The Emperor huffed, she couldn’t give two hoots about the Doctor’s state of mind. “So what was it like? When you were getting it on.“ She smirked and pressed her lips to the side of her wife’s throat.

“She tried, to be fair, to come across strong.“ River chuckled leaning into her.

“Hm… like this?“ The Emperor pulled River around and urged her over to the sofa.

“Something like that…“ River grinned when she pushed her onto it with some force.

“Let me remind you of how that’s done.“ The Emperor climbed on top of her and pushed up her dress.

——

“So where do we start?“ Missy asked, a sense of excitement and hope gripping her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. They had called on the Monk and Manton and restored Missy’s tent as best as they could. Now they sat gathered around a small fire waiting for a simple soup to cook.

“We need to find out what Clara is planning.“ The Doctor clapped her hands together jumping to her feet again. She didn’t do well sitting still. She thought better on her feet.

“I have contacts at the palace still, I’ll see what I can find out.“ The Monk said. “And Doctor? Thank you.“ He smiled at her. Missy had filled them in on what had happened at the palace and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“It’s the least I could do.“ The Doctor smiled. “I’m confident Clara wouldn’t harm River, not while she needs her to blackmail me, but we need to find out where she is keeping her and we need to think up a way to get her out of there.“ She carried on.

“She’ll likely keep her close in her quarters, she wouldn’t risk moving her around the palace and anyone see her.“ The Monk observed.

“What sort of tech have you got down here?“ The Doctor asked turning to Missy, she needed to figure out what sort of resources they had. She had a few bits and bops in her coat pockets but not a whole lot. “I managed to teleport into her quarters…“

“You can’t just teleport in, there is a suppression field, it was probably cause you were inside the field already.“ Manton mused.

“Or because it was because I used the TARDIS…“ The Doctor sighed. The TARDIS was obviously far more powerful than an average teleport. One idea off the list.

“Her TARDIS?“ Missy asked surprised.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t fly her, she revolted.“ The Doctor waved it off. “But the TARDIS must be the key, somehow surely I could…“ Her thoughts were running away with her again. From the moment she had laid eyes on the TARDIS, she’d been devising theories about how she could use it to take her back to her universe. “No, park that for now. Let’s focus on the problem at hand.“ She pushed her theories away and refocused on the group in front of her. “This celebration tomorrow, what will it look like?“

“Usually she receives guests from the significant civilisations she’s conquered… , Silurians, Zygons, Sletheen… It’s a show of strength… then there is usually a parade around the city…“ Missy explained.

“Plenty of opportunity for an assassination attempt out in the open…“ Manton mused.

“The security is impeccable. Also, if she wants the Doctor to take the Emperor’s place, it can’t happen in public.“ Missy shook her head. “If people realised she’s dead, there will be an uprising. It’s her they’re scared of. That’s why Clara needs you. The people need to believe the Emperor is still around to keep the Empire together. Clara may be powerful but nowhere near what she would have to be to stand in her place, that’s why she can’t just kill her.“ Missy turned her attention to the Doctor who was listening intently. “I very much doubt she will let you go when it’s done… she’s going to want you around to maintain the role play.“

“All the more reason to not let this succeed.“ The Doctor nodded feeling determined.

“It would have to be in private, where you can then take her place. But that would involve Clara getting past the Royal Guard and River.“ Missy carried on. “I can’t believe she’s stupid enough to try this… She’s going to get herself killed. There is no way she can pull it off, no matter what she’s planning…“ She shook her head to herself.

“What’s the ideal outcome here, Doctor?“ Manton asked. “Do we help Clara Oswald kill the Emperor and then we deal with her? What does winning look like?“

“I don’t want to kill anyone.“ The Doctor said softly but it was beginning to look like that was what they would have to do. Stand by while Clara carried out her little scheme, even ensure that she succeeded… and then find a way to get rid of Clara in turn… which would proof difficult while she controlled the Quantum Shade… with her, too, killing her might be the only option.

“You can’t save everyone, Doctor…“ The Monk mused. “And some people don’t deserve saving.“

“And we don’t get to decide who lives or dies.“ The Doctor retorted firmly and locked eyes with Missy who gave her a sad smile. She understood. “And there are Amy and Rory, Yaz, Ryan, Graham… would you kill them all?“

“If that’s what it took…“ Manton said gravely.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.“ Missy interrupted. “Why don’t we focus on saving your wife for now, Doctor?“

[harrysgoldrush]

chapter 2: styles v vegan contract

masterlist

tag list

part 1

Y/N Y/LN.

In her final year of law school and already planning on getting her LLM in Environmental Law and Politics. A true force to be reckoned with. Tom had told him that much the moment he closed the office door behind him.

Tom’s office was one of the bigger advisor’s offices on campus, with his desk pushed up against the left wall furthest from the door with two mismatched embroidered chairs that he had stolen from the Tisch School of Arts last year. A giant bookcase covered the whole back wall with books sitting on top of each neatly organized row. The right side of his office was occupied by a worn leather couch that had only fit through the narrow door by some miracle. There was a coffee table with some of the school’s different magazines and newspapers and a small black fridge that always had sodas and Tom’s leftovers.

Harry could imagine her taking naps on that sofa, falling asleep as she plotted her next protest, asking Tom for advice while he answered emails. She wouldn’t even knock, she’d make a beeline to the fridge to grab water. Except she hated those bottles. What did she do instead? Maybe she would finish Tom’s salad for him, his wife always brought him one for lunch and he only ever ate the “exciting” parts before he tucked it away in that fridge.

“Harry, she’s in two of your classes this semester,” Tom had laughed, setting his reading glasses down on his desk as he sat back down. “Your Public and Private Governance Seminar and International Trade and Investment Law and Policy Seminar. Those are small classes, I’m surprised you two haven’t met before.”

Sinking in his chair, he held his back closely as he defended, “We have met before. Last week at Sloan Energy.” 

“Ah,” Tom hummed, clearly entertained at Harry’s reaction. Scooting his chair closer, he closed his laptop so he could look directly at him. “She’s been leading that protest for a while now, I think it will be six weeks this Friday.”

“Is there any way to stop her?”

“From protesting for Green Energy? No.” Taking a deep breath, he rubbed at his neck and added hesitantly, “I suppose you could always talk to her? She’s reasonable enough, she just switched advisors this semester because she wanted to make Mark’s workload lighter; he’s semi-retired now.”

Tom went on to check in with Harry about his internship and how his classes were going so far but Harry could hardly focus, feeling himself drift towards the question of the hour: how could he convince her to move the protest?

From the short interaction he had had with Y/N and Tom’s high praise, he was beginning to think that he was Sloan Energy’s last hope. Why else would they turn to him, an intern, when they had a whole team of more than qualified lawyers? And why had Tom thrown him to the wolves, knowing that another student was leading a whole movement against the company?

Before he could ask, Tom was standing up and shaking his hand. “You’ll have to keep me updated on Sloan Energy and the protests. I’m eager to hear what happens.”

“Yeah, Tom I will. And thanks again for telling me about the internship.”

Tom was quiet for a minute, his smile frozen and his eyes narrowing before he nodded. “Of course, Harry. Jeff Azoff is an old student of mine. When he reached out about looking to hire students, I immediately thought of you. Pays a lot more than that paralegal you’ve been working for since your first year here.”

As Harry was leaving the office, he was surprised to see a new blue bin right next to Tom’s trash can. A single plastic salad bowl sat in it, still dripping water as if it had just been rinsed clean. 

“Is this new?”

“It was a gift, actually. Just got it last week.”

The first thing Harry did after his meeting was text Sarah and Mitch, asking what they knew of Y/N Y/LN. Walking briskly down the hallway, Harry’s searches on Instagram and Facebook proved to be a waste of time. Twitter was useless, with only a few pictures of protests with faces blurred and no mention of her. As he waited for the elevator, Harry opened a new note on his phone and began to type down everything he knew.

Studies Environmental Law

No social media.

Protests when not in class

In my governance and policy seminars

Meeting tonight????

Throughout his Financial Regulation seminar, Harry could hardly focus as their guest speaker outlined the history of finance regulation in the US, wondering how he had never noticed her in his classes. In the sea of sleek and professionally dressed law students, she was like a rainbow colored rocky shore. The only thing standing between him and a guaranteed job after graduation was a strangely dressed classmate.

As soon as they were dismissed, Harry unlocked his phone, relieved to see that Mitch knew her pretty well, having dated her old roommate last year. 

She was always really weird about showers. Her and Katie got into this huge fight at the end of the year because Katie had bought a Keurig and I guess that’s bad for the environment. When Y/N got mad about it, Katie locked herself in the bathroom and ran the shower for an hour. By the time she came out of the shower, Y/N had moved out.

Definitely weird.

Sarah had had class with her before and seemed annoyed at Mitch’s response.

It’s called being environmentally friendly, Rowland. Y/N has been practicing zero-waste since high school. She’s not weird, she’s thoughtful. My first year when I was dehydrated, she took me to the hospital and went to all of my classes for me to take notes. If I wouldn’t be risking arrest and my degree, I’d be protesting with her. She’s a better person than both of you combined. If she wasn’t so busy, she’d be top of our year easily. Why are you asking about her, Harry?

Ignoring her question, Harry put his phone away and kept walking, though he wasn’t entirely sure where to go. He hadn’t been able to convince Tom to give him her schedule although he could probably ask Jeff. And what was that meeting later tonight? Was it with Sloan Energy? Was that why they weren’t expected at the office today?

He wasn’t complaining, in fact he was beyond thankful to have a night to catch up with his studies and term papers, knowing he wouldn’t be getting much sleep either way.

Deciding to get a coffee to keep him warm while he plotted, Harry ducked into the Starbucks across the street and stood in line, making awkward eye contact at an old professor of his who was sitting with a much younger woman. Looking away quickly, his eyes landed on a basket with a sign that said ‘Reusable Cups $3.99’. 

Suddenly, he felt inspired.

Pulling his phone out again, he quickly typed into his search engine ‘is coffee or tea better for earth?’ with a surprising yet logical result. Grabbing two of the reusable coffee cups, Harry smiled widely at the barista.

“Um, just one coffee black. And whatever your healthiest hot tea is.”

Soon, Harry was walking briskly towards Sloan Energy, hoping Y/N wasn’t at her meeting yet. He had only seen her a few hours ago with her bright colors and worn fabrics but as he got closer to the building, it felt like it had been years since he heard her familiar voice, thanking the small gathering around her through her red and white megaphone. The hot drinks in his hand had managed to only spill minimally on the frantic trip across The Village, surviving the packed subway and crowds of tourists.

She was easier to spot now that he knew where to look. The crowd was smaller than it had been the day before, with a few slowly easing out of the group to get somewhere warmer. As Harry made his way to her, he was glad he didn’t have his internship today; he blended in much better with his dark jeans and black zip tie shirt with NYU School of Law embroidered on the chest.

He waited as she informed the group of tomorrow’s meeting times before approaching. It was just them now. Y/N didn’t seem too surprised to see him as she lowered her megaphone and walked towards him, one eyebrow raised as she took in the two white reusable cups in his gloved hands.

“What is this?”

“Green tea,” Holding it out to her, he pulled it back just as quickly and examined the two cups before holding out the other one. “This one’s green tea. Thought you might be cold.”

“No, I meant why are you bringing me a drink?” When he didn’t respond, she asked with a cautious smile, “Did you poison it or something?”

Shaking his head, Harry glanced towards the main doors of Sloan Energy as she took the drink from him, taking a sip before humming. “It's good. Thanks. Harry, right?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles.”

Looping her free hand through the wrist strap of the horn, she wrapped her bare hands around the warm mug as she looked up at him. “Well can I help you, Harry Styles? Or do you just like to watch?”

“Do you want to maybe grab a drink?” He asked, feeling colder with every second he stood under her cautious gaze.

“Besides the one you just gave me?” Smiling, she glanced at the watch on her wrist that looked more like a piece of wood before she cleared her throat and took another sip of her tea. “I have a meeting in an hour so I probably shouldn’t be drinking yet.”

Harry could feel his shoulders droop unintentionally and watched as her eyes widen before she added quickly, “But I’m starving. Have you eaten today?”

She had taken them to a vegan place only a few minutes away, leading them to a table without hesitation, leading Harry to believe she had probably been here a few times before. He was beginning to notice how attentive Y/N was, from the corner of his eye he could see her casually observing him as he read the menu above the counter.

 “Hope you don’t mind vegan, I always come here when I’m in the area.” She suddenly apologized as she dug through her backpack, taking out a much smaller back with her name sewn into it. “Their fries are really good, they’re air fried. The salads are pretty good too.” 

They were quiet, with her eating her guacamole burger as he used the bamboo utensils she had handed him once he sat down with his salad. 

“Don’t worry, they’re clean.” She had explained when he gave her a curious look. They’re safer than actual utensils, they last long. Better for the earth than those plastic things they give out here. Don’t even get me started on the metal stuff.”

The bag she had pulled out of her backpack had turned out to be a pouch with handkerchiefs, bamboo straws and bamboo utensils. The clinking he had heard earlier in her bag turned out to be mason jars.

“So, you just bring those with you everywhere?”

“Pretty much. I’m just doing my part to lower our carbon footprint. I bring my own containers and utensils mostly. Some places around here are getting better. Chloe, the manager, uses plates that are made of recycled materials and then recycles them again when they’re used.”

Nodding, Harry stabbed at his salad thoughtfully. “So why are you protesting Sloan? No offense, but don’t you have better things to do? Like study?”

“Why do you intern there? Aren’t there less morally corrupt businesses you could work for?”

“They’re one of the most successful energy companies on the East Coast--” He began but her sharp laugh was back, cutting him off quickly.

“And one of the most environmentally harmful energy companies in the US. It’s 2019, who uses coal anymore?”

“It’s not that harmful to the environment, it’s a natural resource.” He was glad he had paid attention to his Oil and Gas seminar last week. He only hoped she hadn’t. “Mining and burning the coal doesn’t harm the surrounding earth.”

“Uh, ever heard of global warming? They’re burning fossil fuels that are destroying the atmosphere. It’s not just cows.” She had been paying attention. Finishing off her sandwich, she took her final sip of her tea and looked at him expectantly. 

“What?”

“Just say that they’re paying you a shit ton of money to intern. You don’t need to defend them to me, I’m not going to change my opinion until they change their system.”

Sighing, Harry nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here then?” 

He set down her bamboo fork, a sign of defeat. He hadn’t prepared as much as he should have.

“I need you to move your protest.”

“Because?”

“If I get you to move your protest from their front doors, they’ll give me an actual job on their legal team once I pass the bar.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, her voice laced with pity and uncertainty.

“Yeah.”

After an excruciatingly long pause, she nodded. “Okay.”

“What?” Harry was more than surprised as he watched her shrug and wipe at her hands with the dark red cloth she had laid over her lap when she had started eating.

“I’ll do it.”

“But?”

“I have conditions. Obviously. Do you have any paper?”

He shook his head and watched her begin to dig through her backpack. “What? Are you drawing up a contract or something?”

“Yep,” Pulling out a pen and an old flyer for one of the first protests with the words ‘recycled paper’ stamped on it, Harry watched as she began to write messily on the black back side of it. It was bright yellow and her pen ink was a dark blue, her handwriting long and looped which he found fitting. “Today’s the twenty-fifth right?”

When he hummed in agreement, she continued. “Okay. This contract is between Y/N Y/LN and Harry Styles. Y/N Y/LN has agreed to move her protest permanently from outside of Sloan Energy on the understanding that Harry Styles will educate himself on eco-friendly behavior and practices zero-waste to the best of his ability. Styles must also make an effort to change Sloan Energy from inside, beginning with recycling bins within the building. Once he is hired, Styles is expected to push for green energy. How does that sound?”

 “That sounds like I’m doing a lot more than you.”

“Do you want them to hire you or not? I’m doing you multiple favors here, Styles.”

“Can I read it over and get back to you?”

She nodded before quickly scribbling something at the bottom of the contract. After she slid it across the table, he realized it was her number.

“So we can meet outside of my protesting hours should you Don’t think your bosses would be too happy to see you fraternizing with the enemy.” She was smiling now, one full of mischief that made him feel like she was letting him in on a big secret. Harry couldn’t help but smile back, not quite sure what he might be agreeing on.

As she packed up, Harry was tempted to ask her where she was headed, but she beat him to it; it was like she could read his mind. “Don’t follow me this time, okay? Twice in one day should be enough for you, my own apartment is lucky to see me once.”

He didn’t see a point in disagreeing with the girl as she left the small café. Looking around, it was as if all of the charm of the room had vanished with her, the pink walls now looking faded, the table sticky, the chair uncomfortable cold. 

By the time he got home, it had only gotten colder. His roommate, Ed, was an aspiring musician who had decided tonight was the perfect night to hold a private concert in the shower, his only audience being the last of their cold water. Shivering, Harry simply changed into warmer clothes and sat at his desk, putting on an old rock station before he got to work.

Jeff had asked him yesterday to begin looking into Energy Law and he had a paper due in two days that he had yet to start. Choosing to begin on the latter, Harry got to work, cranking out three pages before he remembered the folded up flyer in his coat pocket. Deciding now was as good as ever to stretch his legs, he walked back to the living room to grab it from the coat rack, his eyes tracing over her handwriting that reminded him of  kindergarten teacher. 

Adding her number, he typed out a short text and paused for a moment. If he texted her, that was it. He’d be agreeing to do whatever it is she laid out in this contract of theirs. Still, if he wanted the job, he knew he had to at least try.

hey, it’s harry. how was that secret meeting of urs?

Returning to his desk, Harry was surprised when his phone pinged. He didn’t take her for a quick responder. His smile fell when he saw it was a text from Jeff. He never texts, he was an email addict. He had a template for almost anything.

What the hell did you do, Styles? Y/N Y/LN just left the office. Moving the protest to washington square.

Before he could respond, his phone pinged again, her contact name flashing at the top of the screen.

have you decided when you want to meet to sign the contract? :)

tags: @berrynarrybanana​ @brwnskin-bunnyteeth​ @harry-is-my-medicine​ @detroitkiwis​ @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @fromyourstrulyh​ @cassiopeiaskies​ @ggaayyyong @mortumnoctis

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Two: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Mistface would be lying if he said he wasn’t entirely disgusted with his task.

He could see Snowshine from here – she was a pretty white molly with yellow eyes, and she was currently pulling a squirrel from the oversized prey pile. She looked a little anxious… perhaps ‘stressed’, rather, was the right word. Her fur was fluffy, and Mistface could guess that it was normally very well groomed and smoothed down. Right now, it looked like she had slept on it wrong, and then kept turning over in her sleep to make all of it stick out at odd angles.

“Prime for flattery and a kind conversation,” Darkpelt had said to him. “So pour on the charm and pretend you give a hoot about her problems.”

Mistface didn’t like other cats at the best of times. Actively having to seek one out and act interested in them was like finding a stinking, rotting piece of meat in the grass and being told to eat it with a genuine smile.

Nevertheless, he had a mission (why had he agreed to this again?), so he gently shook out his fur, let it settle, and sauntered forward for the prey-pile.

Snowshine glanced up as he approached and blinked in surprise. He smiled pleasantly at her and sniffed a mouse.

“They make prey so much better ‘round these parts,” he said in his news-and-weather voice. “Marshes must take the taste right out of whatever StarClan sends down.”

Snowshine relaxed and some of her fur flattened, though it was still awkwardly angled. “I haven’t really been anywhere but here. You’re from the south? Scattered, I'm guessing?”

“That I am.” Mistface tilted his head and crinkled his eyes in fake amusement. “Accent give it away?”

She laughed a little. “Just a bit.” She looked him over with roaming eyes. Mistface tried not to get annoyed. “I don’t think I heard your name when you came in. You were with that blind molly, right?”

“Mm.” He tilted his head a little to the left with a winning smile. “I’m Mistface.”

“Oh!” Snowshine perked up even more. “Then you’re Greyleaf’s brother! He’s always talking about you and your mother.”

“Oh, dear.” Mistface made a face of pretend worry. “Must not have a real good impression of me, then.”

“Actually, he has nothing but nice things to say about you,” Snowshine hurried to reply. “He says you’re really charming and kind.”

“We’ll have to see if that’s the case, then, won’t we?” Mistface said, giving her an appraising look. She suddenly seemed a little shy. He wanted to vomit.

Snowshine shuffled her feet and pointed with her tail to a rare grassy spot just beyond a pair of houses. “I, um, usually eat over there, if you want to come with. It’s a lot warmer than anywhere else in the village.”

“That’d be nice.” Mistface picked up a random piece of prey (a black bird of some kind) and waited for her to do the same with her meal before walking with her to the grass. He was very grateful he didn’t have to say anything now that his mouth was occupied.

Once they were settled across from each other, Mistface started pulling some of the feathers off of his prey’s belly. “I do have to ask – you’re a seer, I'm guessin'. And a real good one, goin’ by your suffix. What are you doin’ here in Clast?”

“Oh, well…” Snowshine swallowed the mouthful of squirrel she had already taken. “Everywhere needs a seer. And now, with Redheart doing her… thing... the actual Clast cats need someone to sort of be in charge.” She gave a weak chuckle, seemingly to herself. “They’re not too happy with her bringing in a bunch of strangers that don’t want to fight.”

“Y’all have plenty of loners come in, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely, but they’re at least here to test their strength, and then they leave.” Snowshine sighed. “Not that I like them barging in all the time, but the rest of Clast does. These new cats are just here because of Redheart’s new ideas. They turn down too many fights for Clast’s liking. And, well, Redheart acting so odd anyway…”

Mistface had the sneaking suspicion that Snowshine did not voice her thoughts too often to anyone around the settlement. Suddenly, now that someone was listening and apparently caring, she was off. Mistface simply nodded and let her go about her new duties and how Redheart was this and that, and on and on, while he ate his bird.

“…I mean, I haven’t even been able to go to the Lighthouse, I’ve been so busy. StarClan can speak to us anywhere, I know, but sleeping at the very bridge to heaven is the best way to talk directly.”

She paused for breath, and Mistface took the opportunity to comment, “And StarClan can’t reach you at all if you leave with Redheart, I’m guessin’.”

“She’d like that,” Snowshine said, with a sudden darkness. “She’s always been weird about StarClan. Never even thinks to just have me ask them what to do about whatever problems come up, even for big things.” She looked around and leaned in a little, Mistface copying her, and whispered, “I think it’s just because she has these nightmares now and then. She thinks that StarClan’s giving her the silent treatment, so she’s getting bad dreams instead of visits from our ancestors.”

Nightmares… Mistface hummed in thought, keeping his voice low. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but my brother has the same problem.”

“Really?” Snowshine’s eyes widened.

“He’s had nightmares all his life.” Mistface knew that Greyleaf didn’t consider this particular fact a secret, but pretending to share some intimate detail with Snowshine would only help her trust him more, so he continued with his conspiring tone. “StarClan’s never talked to him, either.”

Snowshine nodded like he had given her the answer to all of life’s questions. “That must be why they get along so well, then.”

“Mm.” Mistface drew his head back, but stayed quiet. “Any other seers ‘round here that could help?”

“Well, we have the one that came in.” Snowshine made a slightly distasteful face. “Starkfeather. But he’s… not exactly someone I would go out of my way to talk to about stuff like this. I don’t know that he’d be particularly helpful.”

Mistface winked. “Not on your level, at least, I take it.”

Snowshine smiled bashfully and Mistface silently cursed Darkpelt for making him do this. “Maybe not… an apprentice arrived one day that used to train as a seer, but she’s going to be a warrior instead, so I didn’t want to bother her and ask.”

Snowshine started again on her rambling, this time about the various new cats that had come in recently. Mistface listened solely because she could say something important.

She didn’t.

He did not like her.

 ---

 When night arrived, everyone settled in to sleep, except for Beetlefoot. He instead took the opportunity to pretend take a walk and enjoy the night sky. When he was far enough away from the eyes and ears of the Clast camp, he took off north, never once looking upward (it was a waste of time).

He was lucky enough to meet no one on his path – during the living years, everyone stayed in underground dens or moved to whatever trees or shelter they could find to escape the rain. There was no rain tonight, but clouds were coming again from the coast. Even this far away, Beetlefoot could gather that Petrichor and Derecho, the aspects of storms, would be arriving soon with a determination to soak the earth.

Which means he would leave footprints on his next trip, if he wasn’t careful.

Beetlefoot caught a scent of a familiar cat and slowed down to a loping canter. He lifted his head up again, keeping his chest puffed out as well as he could while staying at his current speed. He already knew how this was going to go for him. Drop off the information, be dismissed, leave without another word. Other Fleet members liked to swap conversations. Just not usually with him.

Never a change in that, until Nettlecloud and her strange sons.

He saw a cat rise from the grass and turn to face him, soon followed by four others. He slowed again, this time to his regular trot, and nodded sharply once he was within earshot. He stopped a few feet away from the leader, a grey molly with a heavily scared muzzle, and stood about as tall as he could. He was still much shorter than everyone else.

“Beetlefoot, yeah?” the molly said. “Clean path here?”

“Yes.” Beetlefoot dipped his head. “No thorns on the way, Shreddednose.”

He didn’t particularly like trading the common polite phrases with other members of the Fleet, but it was all he usually got in the way of conversation, so he took it. It was just good to be greeted at all by one of the more prolific patrollers in the Fleet.

A lanky black molly took several long steps forward. “What’ve you got for us?”

This, he thought, was Striderfoot. He had only met her once, and she had been similarly brisk. He could respect that. “Information about Redheart.”

He recited everything Darkpelt and Mistface had gathered and given him – leaving out, he noted with pride, absolutely nothing. Striderfoot narrowed her eyes, listening carefully, until he concluded. She looked at Shreddednose.

“You got everything?” Shreddednose said.

“Everything,” Striderfoot affirmed. “Want me to head off now?”

“You might as well.” Shreddednose tapped Striderfoot’s side with her tail. “Frostclaw can go with you, if you want. That predator and all.”

“What, and be slowed down by her lumbering rump?” Striderfoot said, and grinned when a white molly came up and bopped her. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be light by the time I get there.”

“Then try to be safe for once,” Shreddednose said fondly.

“Of course.” Striderfoot turned, nodded at Beetlefoot, and said quiet goodbyes to the rest of her team before taking off at a sprint (I could outrun her, Beetlefoot thought snippily).

Shreddednose smiled, then returned to professionalism when she looked back at Beetlefoot. “Nothing else?”

Beetlefoot pretended he didn’t feel a little deflated. “Nothing else.”

“Chase the wind, then.” Shreddednose bowed her head.

“Only the warmest breezes.” Beetlefoot mirrored her gesture to her, then to the others, who looked indifferent to his existence. He whirled around and sprinted off, hastening to leave the situation before it turned awkward.

He was right, at least. He could outrun her.