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nat-20s · 3 years ago

Note

#10?

prompt 10- recognizing the other's voice in a crowded room

so uhh u didn't specify this being a pairing, and it ended up jonmartin lol

this is like? an au where one of the domains of the lonely (and also maybe stranger) plays off the specific loneliness that comes with parties. u kno the one, where you have fun for about an hour and then realize that you're fundamentally isolated and you need a breather?

anyway

~*~

Upon opening his eyes, he is not where he last remembers being. He is not sure how long his disorientation will last, but considering he's standing up right, at the edge of a crowded ballroom, he suspects it may be the entire time that he's here.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, the TV blaring away on a program he didn't know any of the details of. It hadn't mattered what was playing, as long as it had some of the natural rise and fall of other people speaking. He had been severely mising that lately, those gentle rhythms of conversation, and trying to listen to an audiobook while staring at his bedroom's popcorn ceiling just wasn't cutting it. So, TV dreaming it was.

Oh, that could be what was going on. An elaborate dream, constructed from the sound of a scenario he hadn't paid any attention to. He didn't think he'd fallen asleep watching anything to spark this kind of dreamscape, but that didn't mean much. It'd be oddly lucid, for a dream. And oddly sharp. His dreams, much like his memories, were always somewhat clouded over, and never as colorful as reality. Even his grayest waking days, of which there were many, had colors more distinct than what appeared in his mind's eye.

Simple test: he could never read or write in dreams. The words always swirled and distorted, and he somehow lost all manual dexterity. He needed a book, or a pencil, or both. He began to wander the ballroom, and abruptly realized that this was a masquerade, everyone wearing elaborate costumes with animal shaped masks. Did he fit in? Did he belong? He hoped he wasn't in what he fell asleep in, the worn hoodie and sweatpants barely worth making a grocery run in. The outside world wasn't supposed to see him looking comfortable, but presentable. He liked to think that if he left the apartment appearing at least somewhat put together, maybe people would believe that extended to other areas of his life. That it would be easier to ignore the increasingly dark circles under his eyes, that his nice sweater had been getting gradually looser as the tool of everything literally wore him down.

Small mercy, he wasn't like that now. A glance down showed that he was, like the rest of the guests? Captors? dressed to the nines. He has a suspicion that his own elaborate outfit, dark blues with gold and pearl embroidery, was a part of it. It was not a mercy to blend in here, it was a design element. Standing out would result in being noticed, being noticed meant being seen as an individual, and they can't have that.

It is with that line of thinking that he suddenly becomes aware of the weight of the mask on his face, the restriction of his sight through eyeholes. Looking into a teapot that's been polished to a mirrored shine, he see that he bears the incredibly crafted face of a field mouse. It would almost be plain, if it didn't have matching embroidery to his coat.

Fitting, he thought. It made him look smaller than he was, and he had so often wished to go unnoticed. A fly would've also worked, but he imagines it would be rather hard to make that into a suitably beautiful mask. Either way, he was level with the rest of the crowd. Even believing it to be part of the trick, even knowing that the masquerade was meant to make you false, there was some level of comfort to it. He was not going to be seen here. Instead someone more handsome, more charming, more even with his peers was allowed to take his place, as false as they were. Best of all, that's what all of them would be doing here, the whole appeal of a masquerade in leaving behind the person you loathe most and can never be free from.

Seems lonesome, for a party. So structured around the theater of it all. You can connect with countless people, and you don't get to actually connect with any of them at all.

Oh.

Oh, now this made all made sense. Crave interaction, and get a warped version of it.

He could see the napkins, emblazoned with a name that he didn't recognize, presumably the host, and, in much smaller font, the company name. Every one of them was consistent.

Easy enough to receive the message. This wasn't a dream. This was a punishment.

Hmm. Well, no, punishment might be the wrong term. Punishment implied that it was a consequence, a direct cause and effect of doing something wrong, by someone's definitions of "wrong". No this was. Torture is too strong of a word, and again, has the problem of making this seem willful. Deliberate. And maybe it was, but more likely, whatever this was had just sort of happened. A cruelty that comes with being in the universe they all happen to occupy.

This wasn't a dream. This was a consequence.

He doesn't know how to get out of here. He can't see any doors, and exits. The only approximation of one is some giant frosted glass that seem like they might lead to a balcony. They're only on the other end of the ballroom, but that lengths feels impenetrable, like it spans for miles and miles of harsh terrain.

There's a few options available to him.

One: Try to fall asleep, and see if he can get back to where he started. Lowest effort option, but he's pretty sure he hasn't been this fully awake in months. Maybe years. Something about the environment makes it feel as though electricity sparks throughout his entire body. It's an interesting sensation, certainly, akin to anxiety taken to an extreme degree, yet it's not particularly conducive to sleeping.

Two: Make a break for it. He doesn't know if there's anywhere to make a break for, but he also isn't sure how high up this place is. Maybe the balcony is a viable option for escape. Or maybe he'll find a door that had previously been hidden from him. Hell, maybe he won't fully escape, but he'll find somewhere quieter at the very least. Somewhere that he doesn't leave him so thoroughly dazed. This is probably the best option, even account for the wall of people surrounding him. But.

Option Three: Join the Dance.

Inadvisable. Foolish, really. The best outcome is..what? Is there a best outcome? Worst outcome is he's dancing forever, until his feet wear down to stubs of bone, until he dies, until he cant remember anything but the dance. Never a connection with any dancer, all of them, eventually, a blur of activity and nothing more.

Yet, it's what he's going to do. He's not the most curious person he knows, that honor goes to a man that he's been in love with for years, but can't grasp any of the details of while he's here. That can't be good. What was his name?

Anyway. He's not the most curious, but he's hardly immune to a detrimental sense of interest. He wants to know what the dance is like. He wants to see the intricate costumes of the others stuck here, and see if there's anything behind the masks. He knows it will, inevitably, leave him lonelier. He knows, inevitably, that he does not care. At least this version of loneliness is more interesting than sitting in his flat, wondering whether having thin enough walls to hear the echo of his neighbors' voices would make things better or worse. So, when someone approaches, adorned in a shrew mask, hand outstretched to pull him into the fervor, he accepts.

The dancer is competent. Neither of them steps on the others foot, and he lets himself be led. Even better, the dancer is willing to talk. A man named Tom, his voice cheerful even as he confirms that he doesn't know how he came here either. Tom shrugs when he asks if this bothers him, saying if you're going to end up somewhere mysteriously, gliding across a ballroom with a handsome stranger is hardly the worst place to be.

It takes a second for him to register the fact that Tom's flirting. It makes him laugh, and it feels wrong in his throat. The sound is unfamiliar, almost belonging to someone else, but it's brief enough not to hurt. He'll grieve all the time he's lost later, for now, he says, "How would you know if I'm handsome with this mask? Or are you just making a flattering guess?"

Tom opens his mouth to answer, a grin on his features that suggest something playful and wry is about to come out, but then the song ends. They both know, somehow, that the brief rapport they've gotten to enjoy has come to an end. They swap partners, and as much has he would like a second dance, when Tom gets swept into the throng, he knows he won't be seeing him again.

The next dancer is at a higher skill level at him, which results in nerves encroaching on what limited ability he has. Perhaps the peacock mask should've been a tip off. He doesn't speak to them, more focused on trying to keep up. He doesn't regret that they'll only have one dance, but he is slightly remiss that his own costume doesn't have feathers after watching the way they move.

The dancer after that catches him for a slow dance. Her name is Shelia, and he's never seen such a dazzling smile. He tells her as such, and she tells him that she would tell him the same, but she hasn't actually seen his own, yet. He makes an attempt, and she tells him, "Oh honey, you're waiting for someone here, aren't you?"

When he states his confusion, that nobody comes to mind, or at least, that nobody is going to come, she shakes her head. Apparently, she can always tell when her dance partners have somewhere else to be, and she doesn't resent it, but it does mean she's not going to give him her number for after the night ends. He's amazed she believes this night will end, but it's a sentiment that seems far too rude to voice out loud.

He also knows that he doesn't have somewhere else to be. If he did, he would've never joined in.

The music continues, and so does he. He tries to get names, tries to get connections. He flirts with Mark, and Nadia, and Jamie. Those people are his favorite during the dances, but losing the also feels the most acute. Robert is his least favorite, even more so than the peacock, for how incredibly small the fox makes him feel. Nothing is even said, it's just the entirety of body language screams that Robert doesn't think he belongs here, that he's not worthy of the clothes he's wearing or the hall he's haunting. Ironically, he's right. He doesn't belong here. These clothes, these people, are not his. Only Robert is quite so skilled at making that seem like a bad thing.

About ten dances in, long past the point he should be winded, he realizes two things. One, there's no pain in his feet, no heaviness to his breathing, confirming once again that no aspect of this environment is natural. Two, is that he's actually had a path. Sometime in the spins and leads and follows, he had been making his way towards the center of the floor. He denies the next partner, likely the worst of a faux paus in this environment, but he needs a moment to stop. Taking in the scene, he has yet to find the source of the music, but he has found the host of this party.

There's nothing to physically show that he's the host. His costume isn't particularly ostentatious, at least not compared to the rest of them. He's not surrounded by a horde of people clamoring for his attention. He doesn't glow or sparkle or have a spotlight on him. The only reveal of his status is the fact that the second he looks at the man in the owl mask, fear floods through him.

Now he needs to run. He needs to leave, he needs to get out, he can't let the man in the owl mask see him, let alone approach him. Pushing his way through the crowd is a bad idea, will bring too much attention to himself. However, he's not in a state to think about that sort of thing, panic gripping his actions. As he shoves his way past one person, he swears ten more people tke their place, and he, oh so close to despair, is unable to tell if there's any actual distance being put between him and the owl masked man.

As he's about to start biting, clawing, screaming his way out any way he can, he hears something that makes him stop.

"Let him go, or I will make you let him go."

The statement is cold, filled with vitrol and determination. It should only make him more afraid. But as he turns around, he sees someone he never expected to be here, someone who has come here anyway. In an all black outfit, the man's face is covered with that of a cat's, but he has not a single ounce of doubt as to who it is. And he's facing off against the owl man, the absolute fool. He's facing off against the owl man, and Martin knows that it's on his own account. What the hell? He can't...he doesn't know what's going to happen to him, what exactly the owl man is going to do, but he can't let Jon get hurt. Begging his voice to pierce through the pandemonium of people and noise, he calls out, "JON!"

Jon finds him in an instant, eyes locking. They only have a second before the crowd pushes in, before the owl man reaches out, wing-like cape ready to wrap Jon up and snatch him away. Jon simply calls out, "Balcony!" before he's once again out of sight. Martin wants to go towards him, wants to follow the instinct to try and protect the one he loves, but going forward is impossible.

The tempo and volume of the music has swollen, and he's surrounded by hands reaching out, trying to pull him in. One of those hands, much to his surprise, belongs to Tom. He stares, uncomprehendingly, and Tom shoves his hand out even further in an act of urgency. He has to participate to make progress.

He holds on tight, all the basic skill of their first dance lost. It doesn't matter, as long as Martin participates, he is rewarded. When the next song begins to play, Tom strengthens his grip, and they manage to prevent the switch. In a manner of minutes, or perhaps hours, they make their way to the edge of the crowd. Martin can see those beautiful frosted doors only about 10 meters away, mostly unobstructed, and releases Tom from their dance. "Thank you. I seriously didn't think..just, thank you."

Tom gives him a nod, his expression much more solemn than it had been during their initial meeting. "After our first dance, I remembered my kids. A daughter and son. If they're out there, wherever out there is, I need to get back to them. If you can get yourself out, maybe there's hope for the rest of us, yeah? I think you might be a tipping point."

Martin had no idea if that was true. Sounded a bit too..center of the story for him. The hero, the chosen one, he was never going to fufill those roles. But. But he doesn't know what a denial would serve, and if he can go through those doors, who knows? "Yeah...yeah, maybe. I'll certainly try."

Tom clasps one of Martin's hands between both of his own, and with a quick shake, tells him, "That's all I ask."

In a blink, Tom has once again been swallowed by the fray, and Martin strides to his goal. He catches glimpses of the owl man out of the corner of his eye. Despite the sight making his heart race, the owl man never makes it to him, almost as if the dancers had forcibly blocked his path. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can turn against someone in a matter of moments. Fascinating, isn't it, how a crowd can decide to help someone in the same span of time.

As Martin stands in front of the exit to the balcony, he has to take a breath. This could be a trick. A trap. A cruelty. If it is, he'll deal with it. If not, well.

Well.

The doors are heavy, but he's still able to push them aside. The sight outside is incredible. The stars are dazzling, brilliant, and numerous, resembling themilky way that Martin has only ever seen in pictures.

It's wrong. It's obviously wrong. Martin's never been anywhere remote enough to escape the effects of light pollution, and he's pretty sure a brightly lit manor isn't the exception to that rule. Yet, that's not what's bothering him about it. He can't quite articulate why, but the sky in general should be..different. Worse, maybe. Greener?

Jon is staring up into the night sky with a fascination that confirms Martin's suspicion. After he takes a step towards him, Jon turns towards him, and a smile appears that knocks the breath right out of Martin. When has Jon ever smiled at him like that? It doesn't make sense, feels like another trick of the party, but Martin decides he doesn't care, he'll enjoy it while it lasts. "I have to say, this is definitely one of the nicer looking domains we've wandered through. Always a plus when we end up somewhere without any bloodstains."

That's not... "Huh?"

With an aftertaste of a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders, Jon tells him, "Just that, for as much as I despise the loneliness, it does at least have cleanliness going for it."

He knows of the fears, at least, but the way that Jon is talking about them doesn't make sense. He's going to ask about it, try to get some clarification, but then Jon takes off his mask. There's more grey at the temples than he remembers, more eyes than the average person, and he's stunningly beautiful. Martin's always found Jon rather good looking, even when he didn't particularly like Jon himself (god, what a fool he was. Maybe what a fool they both were). Combined with the softness in the line of his mouth, the adoration in his eyes, it leaves Martin breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Feet moving of their own accord, he drifts closer to Jon. Once he's standing in front of him, Jon reaches up, then pauses, as if asking for permission. Half in a daze, Martin nods, then leans down. Ever so gently, Jon lifts Martin's mask off. The pinpoints of contact between his face and Jon's fingers almost burn, and he realizes that despite the electrified sensation under his skin, he's been cold this entire time. Mask fully off, Jon beams at him, and lets out a quiet, "There you are."

It's too much. It's the tipping point for him to go from enamoured back to properly baffled. "Jon, I don't..what are you doing here?"

Jon smile drops, and Martin almost wants to take it back. Almost, because he needs answers, because if this is a dream, if this is a nightmare, it's more wicked than he could've ever expected. Being stuck forever in a dance with only partners whose greatest talents were being alone in a crowd is one thing, but having a..a false Jon, one that regarded him with...that acted like...that felt anything close to the same as Martin was so..exacting. When it got taken away, when the illusion shattered, it would hurt. It's already hurting, anticipation of the wound causing a phantom pain. Jon's brows are furrowed, and at least that is familiar, expected. "I..thought you would want to leave. I came to get you out."

"I do," did he?, "but that still..that's not the why? Why would you come for me?"

"Because I love you? I know I'm not much for the swashbuckling hero role, bit I figured that would make me rather uniquely qualified."

Martin sucks in a breath through his nose and his eyes go wide. Ability to read be damned, this is a dream, and mean one at that. He's going to wake up, and he's going to remember, and he's going to be as alone as he's always been. "Since when? You're not..I think we've just started being friends, and it's not even, fuck, we're not even that close! And even if..if things were in development, which they aren't, you're supposed to be in America right now. Or, no, wait you're in a coma, or maybe..no, that's not-"

Martin's spiralling is abruptly cut off by Jon taking his hands. Looking at his face, he finds Jon staring back, his eyes, his two eyes, are searching him, and Martin realizes he might not be the only one that's lost right now. "Martin...what's the last thing you remember?"

A mostly empty flat, the delightful mix of insomnia and exhaustion, and the TV with the volume turned down low enough to not bother anyone but himself. The context around that scene is a bit fuzzier. "I..was at my place. It was..I dunno, it was boring."

"Anything else. Do you remember Jane Prentiss?"

"Of course I remember Jane Prentiss. Not likely to ever forget the worst two weeks of my life."

"What about Scotland?"

Scotland? "I'm mean, I've never been, but I, uh, am aware of the concept."

Except that wasn't quite true, was it? He had been to Scotland, and Jon had been there, but when? Why? What had they..

Jon's frown deepens. "Martin, do you trust me?"

He did. Despite everything, or maybe because of an everything he couldn't quite access, he really, really did. His response of "Yes" is more of a breath than a word, but Jon understands nonetheless. Jon reaches up, places his hands on the sides of Martin's face, and tells him, "Close your eyes."

Martin does as told, and Jon brings their foreheads together, an approximation of a kiss. There's a buzzing at the base of his skull, not painful, but not particularly pleasant, either. As Jon leans back and he opens his eyes, the sky is wrong, but it is the wrong that he has become increasingly accustomed to.

He remembers.

Jon hasn't fully released him yet, asking still ever so gently, "Back with me?"

Martin nods, and Jon drops his hands. Immediately, Martin grabs one of them with his own, because while it may be the apocalypse, at least he can do that as freely as he likes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, " he looks down, and sighs, "Eugh. Do miss the clean clothes though."

Jon gives a hint of a smile, and as he begins to move forward. "Now you understand my point about the lonely having a tidiness to it."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll take grime over memory loss any day."

"Next domain is a corruption one, so we'll see how much that holds true."

"Of course it is."

They walk in silence for a few moments until Martin gives Jon's hand a quick squeeze. "Hey Jon?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for getting me out."

Jon replies, "Of course," as an easy statement of fact, and Martin believes it. He has to add, "And I love you too."

The responding smile he gets from Jon makes him think he might be one of the few people in existence to feel lucky after the end of the world.

#replies #fluff prompts #tma #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jon sims #anon

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silver-starlight-99 · 3 years ago

Text

Monsters at Work: The Jokester Generation Part Three: Life on the Other Side

There are many parents who’d call their child a miracle. For Liam and Noelle Rae however, they’d come to use that term in a somewhat literal sense. On the night when Mary Susanna Rae came into the world, her introduction wasn’t without… complications. The newborn’s breathing was irregular, her lips and fingers were a chilling blue hue, and she came out gasping instead of crying. The girl was showing signs of respiratory distress, and for the first-time parents, they were in a state of panic fearing their little girl wouldn’t make it through the night. Thankfully, doctors were able to get the newborn to an incubator at lightning speed. And, within a few days, little Mary Rae was stable enough to be returned to her exhausted, but overjoyed parents. She’d need to return a few more times to the hospital, to ensure things were running smoothly. But otherwise, the Raes were cleared to bring their daughter home.

Besides that little scare, little Mary Rae had a rather average infancy, with parents more than eager to smother their daughter in love and as many gifts they could buy. While Liam’s job as an insurance agent didn’t mean the family was rolling in money, he was more than willing to splurge where he could on his little miracle. And, to be fair, the mountain of baby toys, clothes and food they’d received as gifts from friends and extended family members meant the new parents didn’t have to worry as much about supplies for the first couple of months. In spite of all this love and support, there was always a twinge of fear in their hearts, one that had never fully gone away since their daughter’s rocky introduction to the world. While the hospital check-ins were completed, and the two were assured that there should be no further problems with Mary, it’s hard not to shake the fear of something going wrong with their little girl, something spontaneous, something they couldn’t prepare for. For Noelle Rae, this would occasionally lead her to spend nights in her daughter's room, wanting to be sure she could jump in the second something seemed off with her baby’s breathing. But as long as they kept her close and cared for, their fears would slowly start to wane.

By the time Mary was two, the Raes’ worries were nearly dissipated. Which was good, because this high-energy little lady was more than enough to keep them busy without anxiety about her breathing. The toddler would insist on chasing every cat or dog that she came across in hopes of petting it. She’d sing and dance herself to exhaustion with zero prompting. She’d given her parents more than their share of heart attacks during games of hide-and-seek where she accidentally led them to believe she’d escaped the house. Childproof locks in the Rae household were a must. Thankfully, it appeared Mary also inherited her mother’s artistic drive. If someone needed to keep her in place, just put some paper and a box of crayons in front of her and she’d stay still for a solid hour, perfecting each of her masterpieces. Sure, there were nights where Mary would insist on sleeping in their room. But hey, what kid didn’t go through a phase where they were terrified of a monster hiding under the bed or in the closet? As long as Noelle and Liam were able to be there for their girl, there was nothing they couldn’t handle… right?

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It was an early Autumn morning when Liam Rae heard his wife’s cries. He rushed out of his room to find her frantically scrounging in a closet. According to Noelle, when she’d left to wake their daughter, she was nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t the first time little Mary had gotten up early to try and coax one of her parents into a game of hide-and-seek, so she wasn’t immediately worried. Of course, most games didn’t take over an hour with no sign of the toddler. Starting to worry, Noelle began calling out to Mary, then outright ordering her to come out of her hiding spot. With no daughter to be seen or heard, she began to check the closets and locked rooms, almost hopeful she’d accidentally forgot to lock a room and her baby was just snoring away somewhere. Soon, Liam joined in the search, with both parents entering a state of panic. By the time they’d turned their home inside out, no Mary in sight, and they triple-checked the front and back doors to ensure she couldn’t have gotten out of the house, they finally called the cops.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, a horrible, exhausting blur. Hours were spent in questioning with the police, along with calls out to every neighbor they knew, asking if any of them had seen their daughter that morning, or any suspicious people near the house. The police weren’t able to find any signs of forced entry. And upon re-examination with the parents, with the exception of a few missing blankets and toys, there was nothing that could be considered unusual about Mary’s room. It was as though the toddler had vanished into thin air. Leaving the Raes on the verge of a breakdown. After the initial interviews and investigations were completed, the parents were told it would take a few hours to finalize the missing-child report, leaving them to mull over the day’s events before the police could begin broadening their search. Despite the assurances and messages of support from their neighbors, it wasn’t enough to keep away the air of despair that followed the parents the rest of the day. After almost losing their little girl when she was born, they were facing a potential future where they may never see her again. And once again, there was nothing they could do. It gave Noelle flashbacks to Mary’s birth, the doctors rushing the newborn to get proper treatment. While the exhausted mother was in a state of delirium from the medications taken to help alleviate the pain, and confused terror as to why she couldn’t hold her daughter.

That following night was especially difficult for the couple, just trying to be there for each other as they cried themselves to sleep.

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So imagine the shock they felt when Mary popped out of her room the following morning, right the f*ck outta nowhere, asking for a snack. What started as shock shifted to jubilation as Noelle and Liam held their daughter tight, checking her over for injuries through tear-filled eyes. Mary herself seemed fine, with no noticeable scratches or scars, not even a tear in her pajamas. But it’s clear something has happened to her. Her hair is disheveled and in need of brushing. There’s a distinct smell on the toddler, but one her parents can’t discern. She’s missing a sock. And still, the parents can’t find the missing blanket and toys. None of this makes any sense. But in the moment, their miracle is alive and safe, and they’re more than happy to revel in this moment of peace.

“And yes sweetie, Daddy will get you some Cheerios, just let us have this.”

Things however got a bit more complicated when it came to explaining things to the police. The Raes thought the missing toys should’ve been enough to prove that something was in their home and took their daughter. But as the police repeatedly explained, there wasn’t enough evidence to send an APB on someone who, for all intents and purposes, appeared and disappeared out of thin air.

Of course, evidence or not, this event had some crazy ramifications for the people of this quiet neighborhood. There were many families with young children that were suddenly fearful that someone could come for their own, and they’d be powerless to stop them. A lot of households were investing in extra locks and security systems. A Neighborhood Watch was established, but all it really seemed to do was stir up further anxiety and paranoia within the adults. There were those who believed the Raes fabricated the whole kidnapping in a sick ploy for attention. There were petty people who were using the situation as a means to place suspicion on neighbors they didn’t like. A curfew was attempted, but that just made the teens in the area grow restless, many sneaking out in defiance and putting further stress on the parents. What seemed like a quiet, easy-going suburbia was slowly devolving into one of suspicion and anxiety, with everyone trying to find someone they can put the blame on. Things only got worse when one Gabriella Harlin, through a long line of accusations, was discovered to have been laundering money from her job to pay for her family's many extravagances.

Some families were driven to move out because of the harassment they were facing on a daily basis. Time and time again the police were called in to deal with reports of vandalism. Eventually, even the local news caught wind of the chaos and began to ask people for interviews, the Raes especially since they were the ones considered to be the start of the whole situation. It would be months before the chaos would eventually die down, but enough damage was done that after the dust settled, things on Langdale Avenue were never the same. No matter how bad things seemed outside their home, Noelle and Liam Rae were facing something far more distressing inside.

Despite what the police had chosen to believe, something happened to little Mary Rae, and her parents were left to try and comfort their child in the aftermath of whatever she'd been through. No longer was the toddler crawling into their bed whenever she was having a bad night, now her mom and dad were finding her curled up in her closet, eyes with a tinge of red as though she’d been crying. Before, Mary would do the occasional doodle of a strangely-colored creature, but now she exclusively drew monsters and weird mish-mashes of animals. And some of them were… rather disturbing; Mary being chased by a giant spider-crab (Waternoose.) A green beach ball thing with horns screaming in pain (basically 80% of her interactions with Mike.) A purple salamander being beaten with a bat (Randall.) And most distressingly, a blue and purple bear-like monster called Kitty is being choked to death by long purple arms (Randall as he was trying to kill Sully before Mike stepped in with that snowball.) How do they know the monster’s name is Kitty? Because that’s the name she’s been repeating for the last few weeks, always asking where they were? The Raes were quick to make the connection between this strange creature and the girl’s disappearance, but there’s still so much of the full picture they didn’t know.

So yeah, between trying to take care of their daughter and having their neighbors and the local news going nuts outside their home, Liam and Noelle had their hands full for a few months. There was a very serious consideration to move to a new city, even if it meant money would be tight. But one of the things that held them back on this decision, once again, was their daughter. Despite her new habits and her occasional bouts of moodiness, Mary always seemed the most comfortable in her room. Something about the familiarity always seemed to soothe the girl. And Liam and Noelle could tell that in this period of madness, this little room of calm was something their kid needed more than ever. So they agreed to wait things out, but also thought it best to let Mary have some playdates with some of her cousins outside of town, so they could all enjoy a few hours of calm away from the chaos.

Thankfully, things eventually died down. Sure, things were still strained between neighbors, but by then, everyone’s name had been dragged through the mud at some point. So everyone that was left was willing to let bygones be bygones, just to try and return to some level of normalcy. Little Mary had become a bit more introverted since her return, but with time and care from her family, she would soon regain her old chipper attitude, even if she’d become wary around new people. But hey, after everything she’d seen her neighbors put themselves through, the Raes weren’t surprised that their daughter wasn’t as trusting around unfamiliar adults.

In the end, everyone wanted to put this whole affair behind them, and the Raes were more than happy to do so. When asked, Liam and Noelle would usually be as vague as possible in regards to Mary’s disappearance and the explosive aftermath of their neighborhood. To be fair, with as little unbelievable evidence as there was, it wasn’t too hard for either of them to skim over the details. And as their daughter’s attitude began to improve, the Raes also did their best to put her distressing past behind them. Afterall, no matter how much they may have yearned for an answer, little Mary simply wasn’t able to explain, and in a few years, it was likely the whole terrible affair would become a faded memory in the child’s mind. But Liam, always the one to try and think ahead, decided to hold on to some of Mary’s stranger doodles, while he and Noelle usually disposed of the others. Who knows? Maybe once their daughter was old enough to form sentences, something in her old drawings would be enough to spark a memory of what truly happened. But that was no longer important. What was important was that their daughter, their miracle, was alive and safe. And this time, with God as their witness, she was going to have as normal and loving a life as Liam and Noelle Rae could possibly provide, weirdness be damned! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uh… hi

Ok, just a reminder, I was two when everything happened. So if you’re expecting a detailed account of my first time in Monstropolis, I’m probably not the person you want to hear from. Mike and Sully could probably do a better job at explaining how everything went down. But yeah, outside of a few nightmares, everything else just kinda turned into a blur for me. But what I do remember, after coming back home, was being sad. I love Kitty. I spent plenty of nights by my closet just wishing he’d come back, only to wake up without seeing him. It hurt.

And outside of that… I guess I was still causing trouble back then. Because my little disappearing act apparently caused the whole neighborhood to turn on itself. I know my parents and a lot of the older people there don’t want to talk about it, but come on; the local news was so desperate for a spicy story when they heard about people starting to throw dog sh*t at each other's doors, reporters were on us like a toddler to a stray piece of candy. I don’t remember much of it myself, but… you know that old Twilight Zone episode where the whole neighborhood goes batsh*t because they think one of them is an alien that’s messing with the power?

(Yeah, that's it!)

I like to think the whole affair was like that. I guess it makes me feel better about my part in everything. It’s easier to think things on Langdale Avenue went to sh*t because adults are a bunch of paranoid idiots, instead of blaming myself for getting lost in the first place. Maybe this is why mom and dad don’t like talking about it.

Anywho…

Ok, I told you I don’t remember much of what happened back then, right? Well, I definitely remember the day Sully came back.

I was about four and a half. It was a bit before I had to go to bed, so I was just playing with my toys. And suddenly, I heard my closet door creaking open. And who should pop out? James P. Sullivan himself. I remember giving him the biggest, tightest hug I could. And it felt so good to feel him hug me back. He pulled me through his side of the doorway, and I was a little surprised I wasn’t seeing the same scream floor I’d emerged from the first time. I didn’t really care about that at the moment, I was just happy to see Kitty again.

And… I guess that kind of became the new routine for us. Every other night when it was late, we’d just spend time with each other. It took some time for us to coordinate things to find a good time to meet. While time seems to pass at the same rate on both ends, I think my world’s a couple of hours behind that of the Monster world. But once we nailed down 11 O’clock as the best meeting time, me and Sully would hang out at least once a week. Sometimes I’d just show him some of my drawings, or just talk about whatever dumb thought came into my brain that day. Other times I’d bring in some toys from my room and we’d just play. Sully usually just went along with whatever I wanted to do, but he says he was fine with that.

Mike on the other hand, he was a bit harder to connect with at the start. We didn’t hang out as much as me and Sully, but when we did, it usually amounted to him showing off the stuff in his room. The door station was in his room after all. But that wound up being pretty fun too. I think it might’ve been here where my interest in baseball started. And let’s face it, Mike likes to put on a tough-guy attitude, but he’s a sweetheart deep down. There was this one night where I was having trouble sleeping, I don’t remember why, and he just sang me this lullaby he came up with on the spot.

youtube

And then, a little while later, Celia started popping by for our visits. The three of them decided to form a … I think the word for it is a throuple? Whatever the term, they were spending a lot more time together, so it makes sense that Sully would want us to officially meet. Things were kinda awkward at first; she might’ve known kids weren’t actually toxic, but it must’ve been weird either way to be so close to a human. But with Sully helping along with introductions, we wound up getting along pretty well. Mike even taught me how to braid her hair without, you know, accidentally choking her hair.

Since then, my nightly visits were becoming a regular part of my life, and one I looked forward to. They never lasted longer than about 10 minutes at a time, but I cherished them. Apparently since they had to steal the Scream cans to power the door station, they always had to conserve energy. Despite that, I couldn’t help but see these monsters as just another part of my family. Something that was getting progressively harder to explain as I was getting older. When a kid’s four or five, it isn’t too weird to hear them talk about strange beings as though they were real people; what kid didn’t have an imaginary friend phase? When you ask a kid to draw a picture of their family, you don’t really question the weirdly-colored creatures holding the little girl’s hand; she’s just being creative.

It’s when I got older that things started getting complicated.

By the time I was in… I think second grade? Yeah, by then I was catching on that I needed to start keeping things to myself. My parents were telling me, in the kindest way they could, that I was starting to get too old for imaginary friends. To be fair, I think a part of that was because I had gotten into 3 fights by then with other kids because they were telling me my monster family couldn’t be real. I’m not sure what got me to react so violently, and I don’t think that instinct ever went away. I just got better at hiding it around other people.

(...where was I going with this?)

(No I wasn’t!)

(No it wouldn’t! So f*ck off and let me tell my own d*mn story!)

<Alright, geez>

Ok, so, I was starting to act out, and I was finally catching on that others weren’t believing my monster story. Between all that stuff and what went down when I was 2, it was getting hard for a lot of the other parents to feel comfortable with me around their kids. The term “problem child” started getting thrown around, and that just made me more frustrated. Which made me more reliant on my time with Sully, which made me more frustrated that it just wasn’t safe for me to tell anyone the truth.

As I got older, it felt like I was seeing the Monster world less and less. Sully had big plans for his world, and they were taking up more and more of his time. By the time I was in fifth grade, we were meeting maybe once a month. It meant we had more time to talk, but it also felt like so much had to get crammed into the time we had. Me getting onto the baseball team. Mike and Celia tying the knot. Getting my first real friend. Sully meeting up with some kinda monster group for his plans to make Laugh power a thing. Saying goodbye before I spent my first summer away from home. Mike and Sully tying the knot, kinda. It was an unofficial ceremony where they just kinda shared vows and had a lot of cake from some fancy bakery. I actually got to attend that, since they were doing it in Mike’s room.

And… I’m not sure what else to say. Things pretty much kept on like that through high school, and even beyond that. Keeping this secret, it hasn’t been easy, But I can’t imagine a life without my family, all of it.

<… Uh, you’re kinda leaving out a lot of backstory stuff>

(I guess. But they’re not reading this to hear my entire life story)

(OKAY! That’s a little more than they need to know… I think. Who’s even reading this?)

(God, I gotta deal with enough people looking down on me back home. I don’t need a bunch of people online trying to dissect every little detail of my life. Are we done here?)

-Boo grinding her teeth in aggravation-

(…

Thanks Zowie. So… are we done here?)

<Yeah, I think we’ve done enough to leave ‘em hooked for the next chapter>

(And how much longer ‘till I actually get to be in this AU thing?)

<Uh, I don’t know. Silver says it might be another chapter of background stuff before we get things rolling with the real story. And then she still needs time to properly introduce Tylor>

…

(Oh God. Stay tuned folks, looks like it’s gonna be a while

Wait… I thought I was the protagonist of The Jokester Generation, who the f*ck is Tylor?)

#monsters at work #monsters inc #monsters at work: the jokester generation #au #fanfic #video #song #lengthy post #Youtube

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kirschkid · 4 years ago

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Misha Collins - StageIt 22.11.20

First of all, let me tell you that for me Misha is the sweetest and greatest person on earth. I'm really happy I was there, watching him talk about Spn and Castiel. So I want to give you some of that joy, I hope I get everything right. Here it is:

Misha at the beginning of the panel: "So strange not to be able to see your smiling faces." His last shooting on the show was a while ago, so Misha thought he had mourn but "... watching that last episode was quite an emotional experience for me! Kinda took me out for a good couple of days. Just because it... for me personal it represents the end of a chapter of my life. And yet I do have that feeling that this supernatural fandom isn't going anywhere. That somehow we are going to be able to stick together... "

I saw some of the other online panels and everybody had selected questions to answer. When the chat is just rushing through, this totally makes sense. But still, Misha trying to read the chat so he could answer was the sweetest!

Question: "We know Jack brought Cas back but we didn't get to see how that played out. What do you think happened and what is he up to?"

Misha: "There was a different ending originally to supernatural that covid restrictions made impossible to shoot. I think we are not supposed to talk about what that ending was going to be. But it was very cool but it involved bringing back lots of lots of cast members from over the years and big crowd scenes..." "... so in the original ideation of the ending Cas hadn't gone to rebuild heaven. There was a different conclusion for him. So I actually did not read the last two episodes before they aired. Because I just wanted to go on a journey as an audience member and watch the episodes not knowing how the story would unfold exactly. I knew a little bit of what Cas's and Jack's fate were... in the abstract just from conversations, but because I wasn't in it I don't know what the answer is." Misha goes on a bit about the way Jack is but it's not really going anywhere. So sorry I cut it here.

Question: "What qualities does Castiel has that are qualities of Misha?"

Misha: "I think there are a lot of them. And I think that that's because over time the character melded with me. And I with him to an extend." (He had a little but a very cute smile on his face, saying that!) "When the show started Castiel was just this like... he was a soldier, he was a warrior and he was just bound in determined to serve the interests of heaven. And over time we got to see him unfurl as a bit of a fish out of water who didn't quite feel like he fit in with either angels or humanity. Felt like a little bit of an outsider and I think that that is something that I have felt for much of my life." (Can somebody tell me how it can be, that a person like Misha Collins ever has to feel that way?! Sorry... just had to say that.) "He became frankly like softer, more sensitive and he tried to do the right thing. Tried to be a good person. These are qualities that I have. But you know I don't think of myself like a hardened warrior. And I think that that's how Cas was written at the very beginning." Misha goes on about the fact, that not only him but also Jared and Jensen over the years formed the characters they played with their own personality.

Question: "What is the one thing you will take with you from Castiel?"

Misha told us that he discussed this with Jared and Jensen recently, that "the characters really became kind of a part of us." when you play a character for so long. Misha: "When I was watching Dean's death scene I cried. But I was really crying because it was like that's Cas's friend Dean dying. It's a weird thing on an emotional level to have a blurring of the lines between yourself and your character. And I think that that happened to all of us. And it is just because we inhabited them for so long. The characters became facets of ourselves. I literally feel like I will take the character away. You know what I mean?! He is always going to be with me. He is going to be an aspect of my being, forever. Which is strange... yeah... I don't know." Again he goes one a little bit.

Again the topic of how the show was meant to end came up. Misha was considering the idea of telling us, even if he wasn't supposed to. (Not sure if he was kidding or truly trying to figure that out. You know, it's Misha!) Misha: "I tell you... we saw a version of Sam and Deans heaven that was populated with all these people from their past. All of the characters from the show that we have come to love, that Sam and Dean have come to love over the years. They were there in this version of heaven."

Misha talked about Castiels outfit for quite a while. Telling us that they changed it from time to time without really mentioning it. It felt like he had thought about this for a while. And let me tell you,- he has some of the trenchcoats in his wardrobe at home.

Question: "How did you prepare for emotional scenes?"

Misha: He told us how he needs to stay away from people to get in the right mindset. And for the love confession and death scene, he sat down in a corner, and one of the crewmembers, without Misha asking, shield him from people.

Question: "How did you feel when you read the script on how Castiel dies?"

Misha: "I knew that this ending was coming for a long time because I was talking to Bob Berens, the writer, about it. And I was really happy with it, you know. That was sort of the ending that I wanted for Cas and so when I read the script I was really happy that it had made it to be page. It felt like it was a little risky and a little brave for the show to do. And I was happy to be a part of that! And happy to be able to have that character express love like that. So I was happy with it." He took a moment before he continued " I have seen some people complaining about this is playing into the bury the gays trope." He was really careful talking about this, telling us that he didn't think that that's what was happened with Castiels 'ending'. And that so much good came out of this declaration. "This declaration ended up literally saving the world."

Question: "What was your favorite moment of the finale?"

Misha: "My favorite moment of the finale was Dean's death scene. I just thought it was really masterfully executed. Excellent performance from both Jared and Jensen in that scene. It made me cry so that's pretty good."

Question: "Do you think Cas and the other angels got their wings back?"

Misha: "Great question! Yeah, probably. I mean if we were rebuilding heaven we have Jack on our side who is now the new god why can't we finally have our wings back?! What a long and miserable experience that was of not having wings. Cas was so powerful when he started. He could like snap his fingers and teleport anywhere in the world and time travel!"

Question: "What job, non-hunter, would Cas be good at?"

Misha: "Cas would be a great security guard because he never sleeps. So he could just stand there and he doesn't seem to get bored" Misha thinks Cas wouldn't be a great teacher, architect, or artist. But he could see him as a cook.

Question: "In your opinion what color are Castiels wings?"

Misha: "I... shit! I don't know... I always thought they were black but now that you say that we only saw the shadows of them. Ah! They are rainbow-colored!"

Question: "What was your favorite version of Castiel to play?"

Misha: "I had the most fun playing Lucifer..." "I really loved playing the human version of Cas..." "Overall just regular Cas was my favorite." "I'm gonna say Cas-Cas was my favorite."

At the end Misha told us something very important: "I hope you all stay safe and take care of each other. Stay sane it's a hard time right now." "One of the nice things about this supernatural community is that we have all done a good job over the years of taking care of each other so I hope you know that there are people here you can reach out to and there is a community of support. And I appreciate you all!"

-----

So, that's it. It isn't every single word but I hope you enjoy it!

#Misha Collins #Castiel #Supernatural #StageIt #Panel #SPN #SPNFamily #Season 15 #Episode 20 #Carry On #The End

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sunareii · 4 years ago

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wc: 2773

suna grits his teeth, the light's too strong for him to see. he close his eyes shut, having no intentions to torture his eyes at the glow infront of him that is brighter as his mothers cellphone brightness. a deafening sound screeches at his ears like metal scratching another metal, oh how annoying that sound is.

he squints his eyes slightly as if his default eyes wasn't squinted enough. he could see a person, a female he assumes by their figure alone whose back faced towards him but the luminescence made his sight blur, he couldn't identify who it is

voice echoed insignificantly, he doesn't know whose is it nor where it's coming from except the voice started to scratch him in the head displeasingly

rintarou! rintarou! rintarou!

sunas eyes blinks open once to be greeted by his mother scowling after he has bestir himself from a horrible dream. he could hear a small voice saying 'oh no' inside his head as it's definetely not the first time he woke up to an angry face

"do you have any idea what time it is?" his mother barked, her face continues to grimace at her son. suna sits up groggily and reached for his phone beside him

12:47 pm

"how many times to i have to tell you to not stay up late!" she berates before pulling his cushion up, causing him to fall a bit from his stance and gets hit with it

"ow─! you just hit me with a pillow!" suna winces, strands of his dark hair are all over the place

"better than a slipper or your face would look even worse than just messy hair" the mother threatens before leaving the territtory so casually like she had not scolded anything at his sons ears. senzo could only choke a laugh at the freaky scene that occured upon his room, he had identified his apathetic relative as a fellow who would only shrug their shoulders when being rebuked or insulted. suna is infact a 'take no shit' kind of man, he's just wholesomely a bit playful with his mother.

suna goes down the stairs slothfully as his body might not be running his blood yet and he took a bit too long to go to the dining room where his food rests on the table cold as a corpse

"if you have woken up ealier it would have been warmer" his mothers interrupts from the living room. suna rolls his eyes then sneers at his mother from the room

'i wasn't even complaining but i am now' he thought as he opens the large plate that covers his meal, his boiled eggs as soggy as ever

he sits down at the at the table then started contemplating about his recent dream, was it even a dream? though it seems a bit vague but vivid when he was still in a slumber. suna reckons it was just another weird hallucination. he has quite plenty of those so this one is no special, except that this peculiar reverie didnt have any sort of plot unlike the time he dreamt about the miyas and some random player from karasuno that he'd only seen once have a bachelors party at a couple he had seen in a movie before while also drinking blue liquid which now is extremely questionable but that was just an example of the long list

suna hears a soft thump going down the stairs, he glance to see his cousin all dressed up for the day

"hey sen, are you going somewhere?"

"uh.. yeah, why?"

"can i go with you?"

"sure..."

senzo probably didn't sound sure himself, well that's because he isn't used to people wanting to join him to go outside or anything at all and he was receiving a small friendly treatment from a cousin he didn't knew existed and vice versa.

the two went out briefly after suna changing into some proper clothing for the day, the walk is quiet like the usual though they do give some comments here and ther. the sun sweltered upon them while two or three clouds wafts against each other.

"im going this way, is there a place you wanted to go?" senzo asks after an abrupt stop

suna truthfully didn't have a particular destination, he went with him 'cause he felt like it. they went far for him to just go back, he thought for a long minute before a specific location passes in his head.

"yes, actually

"i'll see ya later then" senzo says before walking away

suna felt awkward since his destination is far from where they had gone to

he doesn't know why he's making his way there, for fresh air? for the scenery? for someone?

suna halts as he sees a narrow space in the side of the hill, he figured it's also a path way up to the old patio he visited. he begins walking upwards and repents at his decision mid-way. the path is rocky and hard to stay still on because of the numerous inconsistent rock shapes. it doesn't help that there's a hot atmosphere around him as he continues to go up carefully.

sweat drips down his forehead, his tiny strands of bangs sticking along on it. the heat annoyed him as he reaches the top of the mountain hill, the sun beams directly at the crest where he now stands but once he finished catching his breath the brightest star seems to appear infront of him.

somehow the fieriness of this evening─the reason he's such a sweaty mess─suna doesn't seem to mind it anymore as he watches the the girl he had came across twice stand infront of him. she was there, like she had always been, tossing a ball over her head for who knows how long.

'wait, she does volleyball?'

i mean, he could see it but at the same time not so much?

though you were tad bit taller for an average height of a female and you don't look like you hold any outstanding physical attributes either but he can't really underestimate you that quickly can he?

sunas being remained unnoticed due to her keeping her concentration firmly. she tosses the ball up into the air, patently going to do a jump serve. from her evident zealousness you would be tricked that she'll actually spike or even jump with experience. she was slow and her legs looked stiff when she leaped, hell, she didn't even swing her arms in time, she barely even touched the ball.

'uhh.. that was an awkward serve' her attempt to serve was futile and funny even, suna can't help but to chortle instead of detaining it, his attempt to be discreet wasn't great either. she let's out a light gasp as soon as she heard him cackling from the side, she already was embarrassed at her shot but now that the same cute boy she saved from the market is a witness at her own frustration made her embarrassment go off the line than where it should be

"that was an impressive serve you just did" suna starts sarcastically whilst disturbingly taking little steps towards her. she could only scream her embarrassment deep on her palm, peeking her eyes through one of the gaps to see him, picking up the ball from the ground.

"how long have you been here?"

"long enough to see eveything"

"pleas erase it from your memory" she says blatantly as she finally regains her composure, suna shrugs at her as he hands the ball back to her, she unhesitatingly grabbing it back only for him to extend his arm up. the ball being too high for her too reach since the boy teasing her is intimidatingly tall.

"it's not that easy" suna replies as he looks down at the figure shorter than him giving him an irratating frown, "what do you know about volleyball?" she mumbles, her eyes looking elsewhere.

"alot of things" he remarks with a heavy stare. the girl infront of him seems surprised and asked "do you play?" which he answers with a curt nod. the silence after that is conscious and creates a long stare-down between the two, in addition to that is the beating heat of the sun baking them from below like they weren't perspiring enough from the exercise they had done in such a time.

"i'll just take this back then" she says as her feet tip-toes close to his level, the tip of her fingers hardly brushing off the ball. suna just stands there leisurely as he watches the girl he doesn't even know struggle into obtaining her property back.

suna gazes down at her meek nature, her cheeks faintly glows a pretty shade of pink, her hair cascading down her neck every now and then, the sun rays paints her skin too perfectly

suna smiles slightly as he pokes a little fun with her and having fun himself except to the part where he begins to feel her chest nudging his whenever she jumps and immidietly gave her her ball back smoothly. "here" he says before walking away from his agitation

she cocks an eyebrow at him when she turns around to face his retreating figure, his phone buzzed at his pocket, opening it to get a message from his mom and the second years groupchat, well maybe third years for noow on. yet suna couldn't be bothered to open either of them seeing as his mom just texted him some chores whilst the groupchat is just filled with the twins nonsense.

"could you play with me for a little while?" she asks reluctantly, dugging her nails on the air-filled ball

suna is bewildered at the instantaneous request but he figured it's better to take up on her behest than do his mothers errands anyway

turning his heel back, he meets her big eyes with his flat slanted ones and his actions seems to answer her offer

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

"what made you think playing straight under the sun was a great idea?" suna complains, panting heavily as the sun eventually plummets down. they stayed up on top for hours and instead of actually playing suna ended up teaching her the basics of volleyball for goodness sake she was an extremely slow learner.

"what do you mean? i like it up here" her tone filled with confusion as she questions him

"the sun literally fried us"

"you don't look that good to me"

"huh?" suna's brain is now all muddled by her statement causing him to give a repulsive look, she didn't seem too bothered by how she voiced her proclamation and only started walking down the stairs, suna following behind.

"you must be thirsty, i'll buy us some drinks, my treat" she announces as she holds out her baby blue colored wallet, turning left as they reached down the stairs, the vending machine is conveniently there aswell. "any preference?" she inquires only for suna to shook his head

"water is enough" he answers shortly

their drinks clank down at the bottom of the machinary and some gulping could be heard subseuquently. suna exhales lowly after drinking some refreshment. the wind passes and gives a cold whisk ontop of their skin, the sky is painted deep orange along with pale red. they soon walk in silence with the cold bottles, hers being a can of juice in their hands.

"can we play again?" she unexpectedly mutters shyly

suna glances at her, the tip of her ears turning incredibly red. "don't you have your own friends?" he mentions as he takes another sip. "i know quite a few people but only one or two are actually my friends and neither of them plays volleyball" she explains with her eyes shut

"if you're that wishful to learn the sport why not join your school volleyball club?"

she groans "i can't, my father doesn't let me join any after school activities"

"why?" sounding invasive only crossed his mind once she gave him an answer

"my dad is very strict, i need to be home before five he says" she mocks her father at the end of her sentence in a playful intention

"you're already pass your curfew, you child"

"you look the same age as me though"

"oh really?" they banter and it felt like they have known each other by a relatively long time. he enjoys her company it's fairly not too solemn and to him it feels nice to have a friendly jest with someone who won't intend to cause any issues unlike some two other people..

the usual tranquil in every interaction seem to be becoming consistent and recurring, they soon throw their bottles away in the trash bin sitting down the street like any other decent person

"so can we play again?" she asks the second time with a little more anticipation

suna didn't answer and only looks at her emotionlessly. does he really want to? she was nice but she's rather tenacious, there was a moment where he wanted to leave during the whole session. it seems the longer he stayed quiet, the more she became impatient

"come on! the guys who plays at the public court always looks intimadating"

"and i'm not?" he snickers while his eyebrow rose

"well, i didn't have the ideal impression of you at first though but now you seem like a cool guy" she explains giving him a small thumbs up

"do you mean when you rescued me in the market?"

"no, earlier than that" suna thinks for a moment to the point of looking up on the dark sky before the memory finally getting into his head

"oh, you mean the birdnest hair? yeah i remember now" he teases with a little smile

"it's not like you looked any better with your own hair at the time"

"so─!" she starts a little louder than her monotonious voice before smiling at him keenly exactly how she eyed him the last time they met "how about it city boy!"

suna sighs and scrunched his nose at the nickname, he presumes because of his unfamiliar dialect "you're that persistent, and why city boy?"

"i never got your name after all this time, you know" nor did he ever got her name

suna looks down for a moment, he couldn't fathom what is wrong with him just telling her his name, it's not like he won't get hers when he answers.

"suna rintarou" he replies blankly

"suna rintarou?" she says questioningly, he nods his head

"suna rintarou... suna rintarou" she repeats in a breathy whisper as if engraving his name in her mind

"l/n y/n" she introduces herself back, "nice to meet you, suna" suna didn't reply much and only says "likewise" back and continuous the conversation where they have left just before the introduction.

suna rests his hand in his pocket, "you seem too willing to hang out with someone you only met thrice"

"i like you anyway so it's fine!" she beams a little too bluntly and it didn't help how she closed the proximity between them, literally doesn't intend to let him go off the question.

"sure" he mouthed rather than openly saying it

"what?"

"i said i'll think about it" he claims as he turns his back to her to turn on the side of the sidewalks, "see you! you should know by now where to find me if you ever want to see me" she emphasized, waving her hands at him which suna imitated briefly before disappearing to her sight completely.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

"curse you gate!"

the door slides open revealing her father staring at her expectantly waiting for her with his arms crossed just rught after she got inside the platform

"what's your excuse this time?" he awaits, his finger tapping his forearm

y/n stops her foot on the soft muck as she faces her humble abode. she struggles to open the gate as quietly as possibly but the damned steel gate really wanted her caught, huh?

"i.. was playing volleyball.." she says with all honesty as she step infront of the doorstep

"alone again?" his father assumes, he doesn't understand why she keeps sneaking out outside just to be doing things all by herself

"nope, with a newly found friend this time" y/n murmurs as she takes off her shoes before entering her home nonchalantly. she wouldn't mind getting in trouble for the day and her father takes note of her uplifted mood quizzically

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taglist (open!); @akaaaashit @sredamancy

#suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu suna rintarou #rintarou suna #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #rintarou suna x reader #haikyuu suna

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im-a-meteorite · 4 years ago

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i’ve been marathoning the harry potter movies since im in quarantine and i’ve been taking some notes. i’ll post them all bc why not

sorcerer’s stone

harry knowing that there’s no post on sunday,, a genius

hedwig’s theme playing when harry looks out of the window and sees an owl flying by, very nice

hagrid doing magic at the house on the rock thing,, wouldnt the ministry be able to track that?? since there’s no wizard that lives there, they should be alerted?? or did they remove the trace from hagrid once he got expelled?? like does it work by the trace only or? bc if it doesn’t work by location then how would they know that a muggle witnessed the magic?? idk anymore

the kids staring at the nimbus 2000 and saying its the fastest model yet,, then the camera zooming on the handle w/ the background blurred -> the most straight forward foreshadowing

hagrid is actually the worst person to take harry on his tour situation,, like bro literally left him in the middle of a train station

the weasleys and harry going to the platform while theres a shit ton of ppl walking around,,, statute of secrecy where??

the great hall is on the first floor?? i thought it was on the ground floor

ew the hats

i wish the movies had dumbledore’s weird few words speeches

“theres not one witch or wizard that went bad that wasnt in slytherin” broooo

mcgonagall is so savage i love her

snape is an asshole

a crap ton of chessboards in the great hall study hall scene,, foreshadowing the challenges?

madam hooch really yeeted herself out of neville’s way

✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨✨

harry really wiped the troll buggers on his robe,, disgusting

snapes hair is lowkey on fleek tho,,

making most of the slytherins ugly bc they’re the “evil” house is just a disservice to all the inbreeding

hermione setting snape on fire is truly iconic and very extra tbh like sis why tf would u know a spell like that

seasonal transition wasnt that great tbh

overall the directing style is kinda basic

“not in the restricted section,,” rule breaking hermione is the best hermione

dumbledore’s handwriting is so extra and loopy like tf?? but it fits his character

the hedwig flying season transition was good

“immortal?” “it means you’ll never die.” “i know what it means!”

50 points each for being out of bed??? wtf is this point system

filtch saying there’s werewolves in the forbidden forest,,, thats illegal sir

hagrid calling the trio by their first names but draco by his last,, we love favoritism

harry’s thoughts r so ridiculous,, “snape doesnt want the stone for himself, he wants it for voldemort!” lmaoo wtf,, evidence pls sir,, u don’t even know he was a death eater. was it the bad vibes?? bc same

harry figuring out that the person who gave hagrid the dragon egg is voldy,, a genius

“kill us faster?? now i can relax!!” ron is so iconic i love him

“lucky we didnt panic!” “lucky hermione pays attention in herbology”

how is it that harry’s hand burned quirrel but not the skin on harry’s neck?? that shit makes no sense

yeah i really cant imagine this dumbledore fighting voldy in movie 5

hermione’s headband in the reunion scene is so cute i love it

chamber of secrets:

how is dobby even allowed to just jump on the bed?? like is it bc harry isnt his master that he can do smth like that

“dobby has heard about harry potter’s kindness” or whatever,, bro u work for the malfoys either the elves gossip or draco is waxing poetry about harry

aunt petunia saying “we have ice-cream” after that whole affair is just ridiculous

DIAGONALLY

this seems like the extended version bc i dont remember the borgin and bruks scene to be that long

the close ups with lucius and ginny’s books r insane lmao like chris columbus made it so obvious

also mr weasley’s acting is so funny like its so exaggerated

lucius malfoy is so dramatic and extra we love it

also lucius knowing hermione’s name and “draco’s told me all about you”??? bro whats with draco?? lmaoo

snape really got mad with the whole car business

mandrakes r fucking weird bro how did jkr come up with that

PERCY WALKING WITH PENELOPE CLEARWATER??? HOW DID I MISS THAT??

omg colin had so many lines?? wow

omg erol with the fucking howler,, iconic

ron’s facial expressions?? pure comedy, rupret is so good

LOCKHEART REALLY SAID “GOOD GIRL” THEN WINKED AT HERMIONE

“pesky piksy pescinomy” this bitch dumb

“why is it always me?” poor neville

omfg ✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨

ahh using the seeker position for fighting

ew draco used the m-word

the shit the basilisk is saying is so lame lmaoo

how does harry not recognize that he’s hearing a different language?? or does parsaltongue act weird

HOW IS THE WHOLE SCHOOL IN THE SAME CORRIDOR???

“i know the counter-curse that could’ve spared her” bitch the dirty looks he got?? omfg

the movies would’ve been 500% better if they had lee jordan’s iconic quidditch commentary

“scarhead” “TRAINING FOR THE BALLET, POTTER?”

“what did you expect?? pumpkin juice??” madam pomfery is a queen

dobby is dumb dumb

“who am i, hedwig? what am i?”

“reading? i didnt know you could read?”

“look at my face” “look at your tail!”

“you can’t cancel quidditch!”

“oh harry, if you die down there, you’re welcome to share my toilet”

lockheart: do you live here? ron: no *smacks him in the head with a rock*

“voldemort is my past, present and future” are all slytherins this dramatic??

the tension between hermione and ron in the last feast was insane

justin filtch fletchy is so ugly im so sorry i cant

prisoner of azkaban:

im sorry but harry doing underage illegal magic pisses me off every time

aunt marge 🤢

“do they use a cane boy?” “oh yeah, i’ve been beaten loads of times”

that whole scene is so chaotic

“you cant do magic outside of school!” “oh yeah? try me”

sirius really dumb for barking at harry like it makes no sense

the knight bus is probably one of the best things in this movie

“whatcha doing down there??” “i fell over” “whacha fell over for?” “i didnt do it on purpose!” “well come on then, lets not wait for the grass to grow”

harry leans over and looks for the grim, stan: “whatcha looking at?”

“yeah take it away ernie,, its gonna be a bumpy ride”

this whole thing is written and directed so perfectly

i hate how they replaced tom bc it really made no sense

all the bits of magic in the leaky caldron is so genius

fudge reminds me of trump but like dumber

the blue lighting and coloring is just great, it fits the colder vibe of the story (not like HBP with the hazy/blurry effect)

ugh the glass and mirror transitions are one of my favorite things,, alfonso curon really did that

i love the weasleys,, also everyone looks great in this movie

omg the scene with arthur talking to harry about sirius with the sirius poster always being in sight?? amazing

contrast of light and darkness just echos the whole dementor vs patronus situation

i dont even understand why remus took the train other than for the nostalgia

the lights slowly turning off in the different carriages?? amazing

the visual representation of the dementors’ effect is great

REMUS!!!

i wish there was more emotion from remus when he’s talking about sirius,, like that was one of his only friends

snape clapping literally twice for remus,, ajhshsh

ahh the placement of the slytherin and gryffindor tables right beside each other to increase the tension and further the plot

oh yea the new dumbledore, also cool hat he has

omg the new fat lady painting

omg the candy scene?? so cute i love lads being lads. that scene just echo’s dumbledore’s light in the dark quote bc its storming outside at night and they’re creating a happy environment within the dark especially with the dementors

ah yes the clock references + following the bird to show us important parts of hogwarts and putting the whomping willow in the forefront

ron’s reading of harry’s tea leaves,, still on point tho. ron really has a knack for divination

buckbeak! omg drapple

draco is so hot especially with that ring also the slytherin pins??

“oh yeah, terribly funny, really witty. god, this place has gone to the dogs”

the kids look so messy i love it + harry’s uneven tie

HERMIONE CLINGING TO RONS ARM!!

“its killed me! your gonna regret this, you and your bloody chicken”

omg the boggart lesson

“riddikulus!” “this class is ridiculous”

fuck snape!

draco really pushed someone with his bandaged arm

remus is such an amazing professor i love him and i just miss him so much

ugh harry in this hoodie?? amazing

remus and harry’s conversation with the music :(( lily :((

wtf is that eye painting??

percy screaming about being head boy,, bro stfu

sirius is such a dramatic little bitch i love it

seasonal changes marked by the wimping willow

“turn to page 394”

what a fucking rude ass bitch,, i hate snape

harry really be seeing the grim everywhere

i wish they had “wheres wood?” “trying to drown himself in the shower”

winter transition with hedwig! + clock tower

“come and join the big boys”

i just adore this scene of the twins giving harry the map (bro i really want a series about the marauders)

whos that skinny bitch with draco???

harry’s way too rash tbh

also mcgonagall being also too nonchalant about the whole marauder’s situation?? like those werent your students

remus is a soft boy dark academia icon

if only dumbledore wasnt a dumbass,, remus could have been uncle moony raising harry with sirius

ron’s nightmare scene?? iconic

“my dad didnt strut. nor do i” umm james potter was also a drama queen sooo probably strutting

“you, YOU FOUL LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH” “hermione no, he’s not worth it”

sirius’ dog form really looks like a rabid dog omfg

the part where hermione grabs harry while she’s on the wimping willow omfg

“only one will die tonight” YOU DRAMATIC BITCH UR NOT MAKING THIS BETTER

“finally the flesh reflects the madness within” “well you’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you remus?”

why the fuck is the shreaking shack is swaying in the wind??

QUARRELING LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE

why the fuck didnt they knock peter out?? like tf?? they’re actually dumb dumb there were so many ways for this to go right

this man really sent 2 13-year-olds on this dumbass mission

buckbeak really beat up remus,, “professor lupin’s having a really tough night”

harry’s a fucking psycho with this patronus bullshit,, i cant

can they stop screaming while flying on buckbeak?? someone might hear them

im still mad sirius didnt get his name cleared,, so much would’ve changed

“we did it” “did what? goodnight” i fucking hate dumbledore and his mindlessness omfg sometimes i wanna punch him in the face

fuck snape for outing remus as a werewolf,,, but also he really didnt have to resign. like istg wheres the marauder energy when it comes to defying everyone??

i wish the movies had went into the marauders’ history :(( its one of my favorite aspects of the series

#harry potter #harry potter movies #philosopher's stone #chamber of secrets #prisoner of azkaban #hermione granger #ronald weasley #remus lupin #sirius black #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #movie marathon #notes #harry potter notes

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phorgstuck · 4 years ago

Audio

[ID: A completely black image with the words “here’s the thing.” on it in purple. End ID.]

[ID: A digital drawing in a simple, lineless style of a troll from Homestuck from the neck up looking away with an unhappy expression. She has long black hair with a violet streak in the bangs, fins, and horns that curve out and then in again. Violet text to her left says “I can’t do anything right,” End ID.] (All further images are digital drawings in a lineless style.)

[ID: The same image as before, but now the troll has shorter hair (chin-length) and the text says “I can’t do anything right, try as I absolutely totally might.” End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a troll looking directly at the camera. She has dark gray facepaint covering half her face and with a swirly pattern where it stops, long black hair, and horns that curve backwards. The same face is repeated behind her, slightly faded and with white eyes. Purple text at the top and bottom of the image says “The bones are melting, the skeleton is ash”. End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a troll looking down with a happy expression. They have short fluffy black hair, horns that curl forward, and are wearing a blue shirt, although we can’t see past their shoulders. Black splatters are scattered across the lower half of the image, in a way that indicated the troll is looking in the direction of the splatters. Blue text says “the clavicle detaches and falls with a deafening crash.” End ID.]

[ID: The same troll as before, but now they look angry and are pointing at something off-camera. Blue text says “And I’m not your protagonist”. End ID.]

[ID: The troll with the violet in her hair from the first pictures is now shown again, with her hand on her cheek, looking thoughtful and unhappy. Violet text above her reads in parentheses “I’m not even my own.” End ID.]

[ID: A close-up of a troll’s face. Their horns go straight out and then curve up, and their hair is a short bob. Their mouth is open and their eyes have been replaced with the Void symbol, which looks like a spiral without the center. A pattern of static and blocks of color has been overlaid to give a glitching effect. Blue text at the top and bottom of the picture reads “I don’t know anything/I don’t even know what I don’t know.” End ID.]

[ID: A series of beige and light green lines indicate the shape of trees. Green text at the bottom of the picture reads “and if you look outside you’ll see disintegrating trees”, but the “disintegrating trees” has an echo effect to it. End ID.]

[ID: A purposely pixelated image of a small troll standing in front of a green background. Due to the pixels, the only details shown are a black shirt, gray pants, and short hair. Red text at the bottom reads “the artificial way the sunlight bounces off the waxy leaves”. End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a troll standing with her hands held together in front of her. She is wearing a gray hoodie with a pink pocket, black pants, and fuchsia shoes. Her hair is about elbow-length, she has fins, and her horns curve towards each other and are decorated with gold circlets that are linked together. She has splatters of gold on her pants, hoodie, and shoes, and looks upset. Fuchsia text at the top reads “My heart catches on every thorn”. End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a troll with horns that loop and short, messy hair smiling and looking forward. She’s wearing a purple jacket and is holding the hands of another troll, who we can only see the head of. The other troll has gold blood on them and has four horns which are curvy and black hair that covers their eyes. Stairs are outlined behind the first troll, and fuchsia text reads “You’re already halfway out the door.” End ID.]

[ID: The fuchsia troll is now looking away. Fuchsia text reads “And I have never looked so old.” End ID.]

[ID: The drawing of the troll in the purple jacket again. She is now also looking away and not smiling. Red text at the top of the image reads “and i have never been so cold”. End ID.]

[ID: A drawing showing the fuchsia troll and the one in the purple jacket facing each other in profile, not showing any of their faces. The troll in the jacket is shown to be dragging the body of another troll with four horns, a white coat, black shirt, black shoes and gray pants. There’s gold spots going from the fuchsia troll to the other two. Text fading from fuchsia to red at the top says “and it is 85 degrees.” Gold text with a drippy effect at the bottom says “I don’t know what I need.” End ID.]

[ID: A black background with a wheel of images on it. The images, going counterclockwise from the left, are a gold spiral, a teal circle with three squiggly lines extending from it, a stylized pair of wings in brown, two blue horizontal wavy lines, two vertical red wavy lines, a stylized jade green sun, a purple gear, a olive heart, a stylized fuchsia angry face, a dark blue line with three more lines extending down from it, a simplified violet skull, and a blue spiral without a middle. End ID.]

[ID: A close up of a cup of tea sitting on a bunch of gray rectangles with wavy lines coming off of it indicating steam. Blue text above it reads “There’s lukewarm mango sweet hibiscus tea” End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a completely gray person lying on their back staring up. They have two blue antennae which form diamond shapes and a yellow stripe across their face and three gray marks on the stripe, indicating eyes. A very large orange cat is partially shown off to one side. Dark blue text at the top reads “on the hot garbage pile in which i fucking sleep”. End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of the troll with four horns, a white coat, and a black shirt, standing upright with their hands to their head and an angry expression. The place where eyes would normally be drawing is a blur of pink and bright blue, and bright pink and blue scribbles are drawn all around them. Gold text says “The walls are empty/It’s so ugly/I could burn the whole place down.” End ID.]

[ID: The troll with horns that go out and then curve up and a black bob is looking offscreen with a concerned expression. Behind them is a blue gradient and spots of blue are going across the picture. Blue text at the bottom says “It wouldn’t catch, cause all the posters are on their way to my hometown.” End ID.]

[ID: A close up of the troll with four horns. Their tongue is sticking out. Their hair covers their eyes, but a faint blue and pink glow is shown coming out from underneath it. They are surrounded by pink hearts and gold stars, some of which have bright pink or blue x’s through them. Gold text reads “And I am not your protagonist.” End ID.]

[ID: A troll with horns that curl forward, a black bob, and an orange scarf is touching a feather quill to a piece of paper. A thick yellow swirl is coming out of the paper and fading to white behind them. Brown text in the white reads “(I’m not even my own...)” End ID.]

[ID: A drawing of a troll sitting on a rooftop. The drawing is from far away, so there’s few details, but the troll is wearing a teal hat with earflaps. Teal text reads “I don’t know anything, I don’t even know, what I don’t know.” End ID.]

[ID: Black lines indicate trees with leaves falling. Gray lines of various shades are all around the black lines, giving it a blurry or shaky effect. Blue text at the top reads “And if you look outside you’ll see, disintegrating trees.” End ID.]

[ID: A picture of a leaf with several overlays and edits to make it appear glitchy. Green text reads “The artificial way the sunlight bounces off the glitching leaves”. End ID.]

[ID: A picture of a troll crying olive tears as they hold out a necklace with a silver heart pendant in front of them. Their teeth are pointy and we can’t see their horns. A pink glow comes from the silver heart. Green text reads “My wet heart catches on every thorn.” End ID.]

[ID: A troll in a purple dress with long black hair and horns that wave backwards is smiling with a sad expression as they reach up to words. Their eyes are fading to white. Their hand is covered in purple and is touching purple words on a door that read “youre already halfway out the door.” End ID.]

[ID: The drawing is divided into three parts vertically. The first shows a close up of a troll frowning. Their eyes are obscured and the background underneath their face is blue. Blue text above them says “And I’m so” and fuchsia text below them says “tiny.” The second shows a troll’s face with their eyes obscured smiling widely. The background is purple. Purple text above reads “And so” and red text below reads “old”. The third is a face with blue and pink x’s in place of eyes and a slightly open mouth. The background is blue. White ext over the face reads “and god it’s never been so cold.” (god is in green.) Gold text below reads “cold”. End ID.]

[ID: A black background with “And it is 85 degrees” in white. End ID.]

[ID: A black background. The text “I don’t know what I need” in a gradient of colors is in the middle, surrounded by hands. The hands are as follows, clockwise from left; a gray hand pointing, a red hand reaching down, streaked with gold, a fuchsia hand with gold splatters in a fist, an olive hand forming half a heart, a violet hand with black fingernails, a blue hand fading into black, a teal hand giving a thumbs up, a purple hand pointing, a green hand with a glitchy effect, a blue hand and a gold hand touching each other (the gold hand has bright blue and pink lines around it), and a brown hand that is covered in slashes of black and gray. End ID.]

PHEW this took me uhhhh literal months?? but here it is! the official Phrogstuck Lyricstuck to Sweet Hibiscus Tea by Penelope Scott!!

#mod masgor #art #in order of appearance #avrune xhedia #zinkaa ciervo #baylie aseret #achlys exdrin #luxioh viridi #phanta masgor #lillie talion #leviat typhon #zessac #kriren rhiase #camrin pyrope #airwan tigrea #and i think that's everyone!

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writethehousedown · 5 years ago

Text

Here Comes the Sun 1/7 (Branjie) -- athena2

A/N: Hi, I was really excited to write this little fic! It’s literally all fluff because I’ve been self-isolating for weeks and I just wanted fluff. Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and supporting this whole idea. I hope you enjoy! Title from Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles.

Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are two kindergarten teachers crushing on each other when a shared umbrella might help love bloom.

Day 1: Storm

It’s the rainiest spring on record, and Brooke Lynn Hytes has had it.

There’s been all kinds of rain as March blurred into April: cold rain that plunked on her neck and drizzled down her back and left her teeth chattering all day; light sunshowers that distracted her kindergarteners and left them confused over the mix of sun and rain; a misting rain too light to justify an umbrella but enough to annoy her and ruin her hair. And today’s rain: a howling, window-rattling thunderstorm where rain hurled down from the sky and soaked you to the bone with or without an umbrella.

And Brooke just happened to be without hers, so busy stopping the cats from jumping across the living room like they were completing an obstacle course that she forgot to grab it.

Brooke flinches as thunder rumbles outside. She’s disliked thunderstorms since she was a kid. Sometimes they would knock out the power lines, and the darkness scared her even more. She’d hide under her covers with an army of stuffed animals to protect her from the storm she was sure would explode through the windows and pull her in.

But she’s a grown woman now, and she can’t very well hide in bed and call in sick over a thunderstorm.

With a deep breath, she emerges from the dry warmth of her car and runs for the back entrance of the school, holding her rain jacket closed as wind tugs at it, whipping her hair around and soaking her legs with chilly rain. The door feels farther with each step, each raindrop that pelts her face.

“Hey, Brooke!” a gruff voice calls, loud enough to be heard over the howling rain.

Oh no.

Of all the teachers who could see Brooke looking like a drowned rat, why did it have to be Vanessa? Vanessa, the most popular teacher in school, always happy and energetic and exciting—she once wore bunny ears and launched jelly beans into the teacher’s lounge before spring break—with a class of respectful and kind kids who showered her in holiday gifts each year, even after they graduated kindergarten. Vanessa, with her bright crafts lighting up the hallways and the kind smiles she gives Brooke every day at lunch and her rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes.

“Um, hi, Vanessa.” Brooke always feels special using Vanessa’s first name, like she has some secret power over everyone so used to calling her Ms. Mateo. She wonders if Vanessa likes when Brooke uses it, if it feels as special to her as it does when Vanessa calls her Brooke.

“I got an umbrella, if you wanna share,” Vanessa offers. “You’re soaked.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Brooke’s not the best at asking for or accepting help, so used to her independence. But she’s already drenched, and Vanessa’s umbrella is just inches away, and Brooke nods.

“You’ll have to hold it, though,” Vanessa says with an adorable laugh that makes Brooke’s heart flutter. “I’m too short to make it cover both of us.” Vanessa is short, tiny enough for Brooke to scoop up and carry, something she’s thought about more than she cares to admit.

Brooke smiles, accepting the handle of the bright flowered umbrella and lifting it over them both, grateful for a respite from the rain pounding on her head.

They’re almost to the door when thunder booms through the sky, clapping in Brooke’s ears. She jumps at the noise, jostling the umbrella and bumping shoulders with Vanessa. “S-sorry,” Brooke grits out. “I’m just–”

“Not a fan of thunderstorms?” Vanessa guesses kindly.

“Not really,” Brooke admits. At least Vanessa can’t see her blushing in the rain, but Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind that Brooke is afraid of thunderstorms. It’s not surprising, really. Vanessa is always quick to discourage bullying of any kind, helping her class be empathetic to others. She’s too nice to ever think less of Brooke for that. They finally reach the door, plastered with posters for the school’s annual carnation sale next week, and she ushers Vanessa inside.

“Wanna warm up in my classroom? I got the best heat in the school,” Vanessa says.

The heat in Vanessa’s room is legendary. For whatever reason, her room has three heating vents instead of two, and teachers and students alike clambered inside to soak up some warmth during the frigid, finger-numbing winters. Aside from the heat, Vanessa always has crafts in all the colors of the rainbow hanging on her walls, plus a class guinea pig named Bertha who loved having people pet her.

Besides, Brooke has time before her class arrives, and her knees are shaking from the cold. A little warmth can’t hurt, not to mention some time with Vanessa. The idea alone makes her stomach flutter like a pack of butterflies let loose. Brooke just hopes she can think of something interesting to say, because even though she’s been working with Vanessa for two years and has wanted to say more, Brooke never had the nerve or the words for more than small talk.

Vanessa’s room is done up in an ‘April showers bring May flowers’ theme–Brooke hopes something good might at least come from all this rain–with dark blue raindrops covering half the wall and construction-paper flowers in bright reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks on the other half.

The heating vent in the corner is huge, and Brooke lets the warmth blast at her damp black skirt and cold legs while Vanessa dumps her bag at her desk.

Brooke can’t resist peeking at Vanessa’s desk. It’s much messier than Brooke’s, but it seems to be an organized chaos, markers and pens and papers strewn about almost intentionally. A tiny bi pride flag peeks out from Vanessa’s Pikachu mug, making Brooke wish for the courage to put a little lesbian flag on her own desk.

“How’s Bertha doing?” Brooke asks.

“She’s good. She’ll be having her babies any day now. I’ve been taking her home just in case she has them at night.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot she was pregnant.”

Vanessa nods. “I brought her to a shelter while I was away for winter break. She found herself a man that knocked her up and then went back to his family. Typical, if you ask me.”

Brooke snorts. Vanessa slides up next to her, red sweater brushing Brooke’s white button down. “You want to hold her?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. I don’t have to worry about you holding her like I do with my kids. One of them tried to reenact The Lion King with her.” Vanessa leads her to the cage, where Bertha squeaks happily. Vanessa eases the ball of brown and white fluff into Brooke’s hands, their fingers brushing against each other, sending a jolt of heat through Brooke’s arm.

She pets Bertha’s head, Vanessa slipping in close to pet her back, so close Brooke can hardly breathe. She can see the gleam in Vanessa’s eyes and the precise edge of the eyeliner Vanessa expertly applied, can smell the coconut shampoo she uses permeating her hair, frizzy from rain water on the top.

The warning bell sounds, signaling that the teachers have 15 minutes before collecting their students from where they congregate in the gym.

“Guess I better get going,” Brooke says.

“Guess so.” It might be Brooke’s imagination, but Vanessa sounds equally sad to say goodbye to her.

Vanessa nestles Bertha back in her cage and Brooke starts to leave.

“Hey, Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take my umbrella.” Vanessa extends it to her. “It’s supposed to rain all day. You’ll need it later.”

“Are you sure?”

Vanessa nods. “No big deal. I got an extra, and I’ll see you tomorrow anyway.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. Really.” Brooke’s whole body is warm at Vanessa offering her the umbrella, and though she wants to protest, tell Vanessa to keep it, Brooke accepts. Because that way, she has a reason to talk to Vanessa tomorrow.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #athena2 #here comes the sun #lesbian au #fluff #concrit welcome #spring fling 2020 #day 1: storm #submission

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aconitemare · 5 years ago

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[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder.

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick.

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast.

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out.

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message.

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman.

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.”

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel.

“You’re a cop,” James repeats.

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects.

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes.

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states, “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face.

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch.

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs.

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even.

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other.

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters.

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run.

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team.

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too.

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason.

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement.

___________

Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive. His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes.

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department.

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that.

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.”

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch.

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had.

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning.

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no.

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in.

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh.

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now.

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him.

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor.

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true.

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before.

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.”

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video.

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role.

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in.

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating.

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing.

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts.

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.”

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters.

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses.

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that.

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward.

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out.

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing.

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way.

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car.

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally.

“Thematic,” Jason comments.

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats.

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham.

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement?

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case.

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks.

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth.

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder?

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him.

“Either way,” Dick carries on, “it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts.

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows.

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment.

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly.

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes.

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him.

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on.

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

Previous Chapter

#jaydick #dickjay #dc #fanfiction for the void

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musiclarity · 5 years ago

Text

On the Other Side (Aine and Ai AU)

~~~

Darkness, devoid of light. Submerged within an ocean of the mind with seemingly no bottom. Memories tweak and spark. Faces. Dreamlike pulses of light deep in the mind. Feelings. Things that haven't been thought about in years. What is a thought? The memories bloom, then they're gone, lost to the tides.

It should feel like isolation, yet it is almost the exact opposite. Although not entirely understood, there was something else with him. Him. He was a he. There was another place beyond this inky darkness where his consciousness remained. A world filled with light and color and sounds, things that didn’t exist here. Words without definitions he could recall. Things that this other person? Feeling? God? Showed him. Reminded him. It was through their eyes that he saw and experienced the world he couldn’t return to. But these experiences, realizations, recollections, all of it, inevitably sank back down into the depths, vanished and forgotten. The soft warm bubbles would pop no matter how carefully he cared for them. He knew they were all precious, and yet they would inevitably be lost. It was the perpetual cycle of being trapped in this dark ocean with no surface to escape to…

~~~

When Aine opened his eyes for the first time in too many years, at first there was nothing he could see but blinding searing light. Everything after that was blurred and disjointed. He could feel his face, but he could not move it. His eyes stared forward, dilated and unblinking. Eventually his eyes started to burn, and he recognized in that moment he needed to blink. Yet he could not close his eyes despite how much he wanted to do so. It was as if he had no control over his body, trapped within it. Then his mind travels back to the inky darkness he had spent an eternity trapped in. Forget the fact he was in pain, he could feel pain. He remembered pain. He remembered blinking. For the first time in years, Aine could remember.

That seemed to open the floodgates as suddenly his long dormant mind became animated, exuberant, as a million thoughts raced and rattled within his head to the point where everything and nothing made sense. There was something else as well. That presence he had felt when he was trapped within his mind, it was here with him, stronger than before. The first thing Aine truly saw was what looked like a computer monitor, all too familiar hands typing at it. They weren’t his hands, and he knew it wasn’t his body. This jarring duel sight combined with his throbbing head was enough to cause his consciousness to slip once again.

…

(A few weeks later.)

…

Aine stood next to Uncle, both men watching Shining scramble with a phonebook and dialing numbers furiously. It was a rare sight to see him this flustered, he reminded Aine of the Tasmanian devil. Aine chuckled holding a hand to his chin.

“Remind me to bring a camera next time Uncle~” He teased, Uncle shaking his head.

“You’re definitely perkier than before. You don’t feel dizzy or light-headed?” He asked sternly for the umpteenth time today, eyeing Aine studiously. Aine waved a dismissive hand smiling.

”I’m fine Uncle, no worries~” It wasn’t a complete lie; his head was fine aside from still trying to wrap around the fact that he had been in a coma for almost eleven years. The cyan haired idol ran his fingers through his hair, an old habit of his. After a near heart attack with Uncle trying to cut it for him, he eventually managed to do it himself; it was back to the length he remembered. Uncle also tried to dress him, seriously he was such a nervous nelly, but the good news was Uncle had kept Aine’s clothes which he was grateful for since some of those ensembles were ridiculously expensive. The most important thing of all though was the blue stone worn proudly around his neck. He wrapped a hand around it, smiling somewhat to himself. It was a gift from his best friend. The memory alone caused a small pang in Aine’s chest, his smile briefly fell, memories of that night flooding back. Painful memories of sadness, anger, betrayal. Part of him wanted to reconnect with them, more than a little fearful to possibly discover they didn’t care about him after all. Uncle reassured him that it wouldn’t be the case, but Aine still carried doubts. And regret, so much regret…

Utilizing his years of training, he shoved the negative thoughts down and wove a casual smile back on his face. Thankfully Uncle seemed distracted trying to stop Shining from whatever over the top shenanigans he was attempting. On a whim, Aine wandered over to the window and looked outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. It was nice to see the sky again.

At that moment he felt something tug at his chest, not quite panic but definitely surprise and confusion. Looking down instinctively, Aine’s eyes widened as he stared in shock at the other figure who met his gaze, one that held a literal mirror of his expression.

Cyan eyes and hair, his cyan eyes and hair. Their hair was partially done up in a ponytail so at least it wasn’t completely identical. They wore a purple hoodie and white pants, just staring up at him unblinkingly with an almost empty look to their gaze.

It was another him.

How in the world was that possible?!

Aine was so distracted by this abrupt experience he didn’t realize he had been shouting for quite some time now, his mouth suddenly very dry. Both Shining and Uncle were at his side, both wide eyed and pale faced when they saw what the commotion was about. Uncle inhaled sharply, turning to Aine.

“He’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…” He answered vaguely and Aine just blinked, those words not explaining anything.

“I have a doppelganger now?! You don’t think that would’ve been crucial to tell me before now?!” Aine demanded, Shining shrinking back letting the creator speak.

This certainly was not going as planned. He thought that Aine would’ve been informed at least about Ai’s existence before coming here. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Whoops. He slipped back to his desk and shut off his phone, Ai’s number displayed briefly before being shut off.

“On Shining’s orders, I built a robot version of you yes.” Uncle admitted, Aine shaking his head in disbelief.

“You say that as casually as you would the weather.” He huffed sarcastically in response. Sarcasm was how he dealt with most life-altering scenarios such as this. Uncle’s lips pulled into a tight line.

“He was built to help bring you back to us. Without him, I have no doubts you would’ve ended up dead.” He elaborated, his tone cold, it was obvious saying those words still hurt the man all these years later. Aine didn’t reply, unsure of what he could even say, his mind busy dealing with all of this. Then he had a slow realization wash over him.

“Is that why I never felt truly alone while I was under?” He asked. Both Uncle and Shining had perplexed expressions on their faces, the question even surprised Aine a little. Before anyone could answer, there was a knock on the door. Without looking, Aine knew who it was and the fact he knew made his shoulders tense. He could tell they were much the same. Shining turned to the door with a big cheesy smile, yet his eyes were anything but smiling.

“Come in! Come in!” He greeted merrily, and Aine felt that was clearly forced. Those weren’t his thoughts though. It just keeps getting weirder.

His doppelganger walked in, looking at each of them individually before his eyes met Aine’s. There was almost a jump to Aine’s heartbeat, and he knew they could feel it also. They were less panicked than Aine, more confused if anything. As if he were an equation with no definitive solution. Uncle’s face was unreadable at the moment and considering the awkward silence, Shining stepped up to do some icebreaking, gesturing to his twin.

“Aine, meet Ai.” He then turned to Ai and made the same gesture towards him.

“Ai, meet Aine.”

The two stared at one another without blinking, without a single word uttered.

“This is so weird…” Aine thought to himself. At least he thought it was himself. That is until he heard. No. Felt? No. Somethinged.

“Weird hardly describes this well enough.”

Both blinked at the same time.

Aine knew he hadn’t opened his mouth; Shining was still hovering in anticipation waiting for them to shake and say hello. With great apprehension, Aine extended his hand, Ai following suit. The moment their hands met, they gave a firm shake, then quickly let go.

“Nice to meet you.” Ai said and Aine wasn’t as surprised to find out that Ai sounded identical to him.

“The pleasure is mine~” Aine replied, his cheerful idol aura shining through. Ai offered a small smile back, if only for a brief moment before falling to that neutral, a little unnerving expression. Shining then clapped his hands together.

“Now I know this is probably a shock to both your systems, but we’ll get this sorted out right Creator?” He joked whimsically, elbowing Uncle who still hadn’t moved. Uncle seemed to snap out of a trance, nodding diligently.

“You both deserve answers. Of course, I was planning on doing something else-“ He looked at Shining with narrowed accusatory eyes. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this was his doing.

“-But given the circumstances, we’ll move forward differently. The shock would likely be similar no matter how I introduced you both to one another.” Uncle explained with a guilty looking Shining nodding in agreement.

From there Uncle explained everything to both idols as if they were completely uninvolved with any of this tangled mess of reality. As he droned on, Aine heard(?) another familiar voice.

“None of this explains these odd emotions I feel…”

“I’m probably the reason for that if I had to guess~”

Both idols blink but they don’t exchange glances. They already knew and understood one another’s confusion.

It was beyond weird that they could somehow read each other’s minds. What was this? Jedi mind tricks?

“Sorry for shouting earlier. It wasn’t cool of me to do that.” Aine apologized mentally.

“It was odd hearing my voice yell like that, like a frightened child in a haunted house.” Ai replied and Aine couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how brutally honest this guy was. It made sense though, he was a robot.

“You mean my voice~ You’re the clone here.” Aine teased.

“I had no idea the person I was built for was this blasé.” Ouch.

“I mean it makes sense that we wouldn’t be completely identical. The fact that we aren’t is a bit comforting actually…” Aine admitted.

“I suppose that’s true.” It seemed Ai wasn’t much for small talk. Aine couldn’t blame him. But then again, simply sitting near each other, it didn’t feel like anything else needed to be said. They both already knew, sort of like a weird instinct. He wasn’t quite sure how to put it.

What he was expecting today: not any of this.

As he sat there, Uncle’s mouth running in the foreground, Aine thought a bit more in depth about this whole having a twin deal. To have someone who understood him like this, it was a bit frightening, definitely weird, yet oddly comforting.

He owed Ai his life, and Ai owed a similar debt to him.

That thought brought a smile to his face, which only widened when he realized Ai was also smiling a bit more genuinely this time.

…

#utapri #aine kisaragi #kisaragi aine #ai mikaze #mikaze ai #au #aine and ai au #here's a little something for the discord server #Ai have no regrets

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keeroo92 · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your writings so much! I saw your post of wanting some writing prompts. If you still would like some, I have one! Prompt: V and reader are set up on a blind date. Maybe Nero set them up because the 2 are so different from each other (opposites attract type thing). The entire date goes horribly wrong, but despite that, Nero ended up being right and they start falling for each other.

Ahhhh, my first prompt!!! Thank you so much, I had such a blast writing this! I’ll be working on your second one later today :3

Word count: 2,269

__________

Being single and living with Nero and Kyrie was such a pain. You caught them in all manner of compromising situations, from the way they stared at each other to walking in on them in the shower together. It was downright nauseating to see how lovesick they were. You’d been single for a long time, and as you complained about the living situation to Nero one day, he offered an alternative.

“I know a guy, you should meet him.”

He glanced knowingly at Kyrie but she just held up her hands in a classic gesture of “leave me out of it” and left the room. You were instantly on high alert.

“Uh… a guy? Care to be more specific?”

Nero smirked at your hesitance and you pressed a fingernail into the flesh of your palm to keep yourself from smacking the smugness right off his face.

“I’ll set it up. You free Friday?”

And thus on Friday night, you found yourself at a café downtown. You had a casual but flirty skirt on, perfect for the delayed summer heat. Kyrie had even done your hair. It was a weakness of yours, but she turned out to be a lifesaver and arranged a stylish French twist across the backside of your head.

All that work to dress up, and Nero’s “guy” was late.

By twenty minutes.

You stood in the lobby amongst a horde of patrons with the horrible orange bracelet Nero had given you so his friend would know who you were. He had blatantly refused to drop a single clue who you were meeting no matter how hard you prodded him.

You had to give Nero credit; he’d maintained his silence through an entire week. Impressive, considering how you even recruited Nico to needle him. He rarely kept any secrets from her, as her brash attitude tended to get under his skin and break his composure.

You snickered quietly, remembering how the two had bantered over dinner last night, when you heard a shy voice call your name. Your eyes glided up the figure of the man who had spoken with intense curiosity – was this “the guy”?

Oh, please let this be “the guy”…

His elegant appearance dashed every image you had pictured, none of them coming close to his poise. His converse shoes led to a pair of black jeans that fit just right under a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up for the heat.

And he has tattoos…

The stranger leaned closer as he offered a single hand to shake yours, giving you a better view of his face. Raven locks framed his ethereal features and you spotted the edges of the same pattern of lines extended partially up his neck. His eyes were beyond description and you reached out to take his hand with a gracious smile.

And just like that the illusion shattered as his clammy palm grasped yours.

Well, nobody’s perfect.

“Apologies for my lateness. The hours of folly are measured by the clock, as they say.”

He released you quickly, much to your relief. He gestured toward the podium where a hostess stood, clearly struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of people in the lobby.

“It’s alright. Nice to meet you, um… Nero didn’t tell me your name.”

The man looked down and you assumed he chuckled, but with the noise of the crowd you couldn’t be sure. His eyes met yours once more in a piercing stare.

“You can call me V.”

“As in… V for Vendetta?” you asked with a dubious glance.

He stared at you blankly, clearly not comprehending your reference. You brushed it aside; it was a bit of a cult classic, anyway. The hostess waved you forward and you waited patiently as V spoke with her. He returned a moment later with an annoyed grimace, grabbing a thin jacket from the coatrack and gestured you outside before speaking.

“They lost the reservation, and the wait is over an hour.”

You sighed but maintained your cheerful mood despite the mishap. A glance around the area showed several alternate options, though they all appeared equally busy.

“Well, want to try the next block? I think there’s at least a sandwich shop.”

V nodded and waved a hand for you to lead the way. His mannerisms so far reminded you of a Victorian gentleman, and you couldn’t decide if that was a plus or not.

The night is young. Plenty of time to figure that out.

You stepped out from beneath the covered entrance to the café and paused at the lack of change in lighting. You looked at the sky and frowned at the clouds gathering overhead.

Within thirty seconds, it began to rain.

You hid under a small tree, its branches doing a piss-poor job of keeping you dry as you considered your options. A blur of motion made your eyes glace back at V to find him holding out his coat to you bashfully, his hair already damp.

Victorian gentleman is a plus. Definite plus.

You accepted his jacket with a grateful smile, threading your arms through the sleeves and pulling up the hood to discover it draped around you like a circus tent. Still, it was dry. And it smelled amazing. You took a deep breath, enjoying the hint of spiciness and masculinity in the fabric.

“Thank you,” you said, peeking out from behind the collar.

“Of course.”

The pair of you continued walking, silent as you tried to think of something to say. This was the part of first dates that you sucked at – small talk. You hated the tedious mundanity of surface conversation. Still, it was expected of you and you knew how to play the game, if nothing else.

“So how do you know Nero? He told me literally nothing about you.”

V smirked, his lips twisting in an adorable shape.

“We worked on a big job together a few months ago. I would not be exaggerating to say he helped save my life,” he responded slowly, “And you? You live with him, correct? How did you meet?”

The memory made you chuckle..

“A few summers back I was working at an ice cream store near his work and their AC kept going out. He came in at least twice a week and got a huge tub of strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Kinda evolved from there.”

V barked out a laugh, turning the corner beside you as he replied, “That sounds like Nero.”

You could see the sign for the sandwich shop ahead and took another deep whiff of V’s coat in preparation to return it.

This isn’t so bad.

Then you started sneezing.

“Bless you,” V said swiftly. He held the door to the shop open for you as you let out another sneeze.

You hurriedly removed his coat and handed it back to him as your eyes began watering. You knew what this meant.

Ugh. Definitely a potential problem.

“Do you have a cat?”

He looked at you quizzically, taking his coat as he answered in the affirmative.

“I’m allergic…”

He raised his eyebrows and took a step back as you sneezed yet again.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought of that. Would it help if I kept my distance?”

You shook your head. The damage was done; you’d be sneezing like this for a while even if you went straight home.

“I’ll be right back.” You smiled at V again and headed to the bathroom of the sub shop. You blew your nose until nothing came out anymore, then stuffed a few more tissues in your purse for later. While washing your hands you noticed the dampness of your mussed hair and the makeup running from your eyes.

Shit.

You did the best you could to remove the smeared mascara and eyeliner, leaving behind a messy smudge of black on each eyelid. You released your locks and combed through them with your fingers, carefully saving the bobby pins.

Good enough, I guess.

You returned to V near the counter as he pondered his options. He glanced back to you and smiled gently.

“What?”

A light tint colored his cheeks as he replied, “Your hair looks nice that way.”

You sneezed.

Right over the glass covering the meat.

You saw V’s lips twitch with what you assumed was distaste as he took in the fine mist you’d deposited on the transparent glass. You looked at your feet in embarrassment, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“What can I make you two? Aw, man… I just cleaned that…”

Oh god, could this get any worse?

You turned away and rummaged in your purse for a heartbeat, handing V a ten dollar bill.

“Order me something with turkey.”

With that, you walked outside, barely able to keep from running.

It was still raining; if anything the pattering drops quickened. You sighed, taking shelter under the miniscule marquee. You wrapped your arms around yourself as the air cooled, fighting off the goosebumps cropping up on your forearms.

The door to the shop swung open beside you and V came out with a small bag. He spotted your posture and shuffled his feet for a moment before speaking.

“Would you like to borrow my coat?”

The appeal of the heat was too strong, and you nodded with a grateful smile. He handed you your sandwich and draped his jacket across your shoulders with a smirk. The two of you seated yourselves at one of the plastic tables sheltered from the rain and you unwrapped your meal to dig in, pausing as you saw the meat.

“They were out of turkey, I hope roast beef is alright,” V murmured apologetically.

“It’s fine, thank you.”

You took the first bite and noticed he didn’t have a sandwich of his own. Pointedly, you stared at the empty spot on the table until he awkwardly spoke again.

“I left my wallet at home.”

You sneezed.

Twice.

V cracked a small smile and suddenly the whole situation was utterly ridiculous. Not a single thing tonight had gone as planned. You smiled back, snickering. He chuckled along with you and all the tension shattered as you shared a moment of mirth.

“This really has not been our night,” you commented dryly between laughter. He shook his head with a smirk, agreeing.

As the last few chortles faded away, you carefully split your sandwich in half and handed it to V on a napkin. His eyes widened before he accepted it with a rueful smile.

“Thank you. And I’ve enjoyed it, regardless.”

You flushed as you caught the gleam in his gaze, like you were the only other person in existence. You took another bite and held your breath, swallowing as fast as possible to subdue the next sneeze.

“So have I.”

The two of you spent the following few minutes eating and chatting, getting to know one another better. You found his wit charming, his attention to your every word like a small flame in your chest. He made you laugh, between sneezes. Made you roll your eyes with a line of poetry. Made you cringe as he described his family.

All too soon, the night wound to a close. V walked you back to your car, carefully making sure he walked on the portion of the sidewalk closer to traffic. You enjoyed the deep hum of his voice and indulged in one last sniff of his coat as you reached your vehicle.

“This is me.”

V frowned, glancing at the ground as you removed his jacket and held it out to him. He took it hesitantly, almost hiding behind the gesture as he replied.

“I had a wonderful time. Thank you for your company.”

You sneezed, holding up a hand to cover your mouth and nose as you blushed.

“I did too,” you said once it was safe.

He gave you a nervous look, his anxiety obvious as he leaned forward to close the gap between you and place a light kiss on your cheek. You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug before stepping away and unlocking your car. You paused as a thought struck you.

“Hey V… let me give you my number.”

He smiled, brushing his black hair out of his face as he waited patiently for you to find a pen. You didn’t have any paper and ended up writing the digits on his forearm, right along one of the dark lines of his tattoos. He blew on the ink to help it dry before donning his jacket once more.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he assured you as you started the car. You gave him one last smile as you backed out of the parking spot, waving as you drove away. You couldn’t help but glance at him in the rearview mirror, watching his slim figure shrink with distance. He watched you go, not moving until after you turned the corner.

You sneezed.

Despite the rain, the allergies and all the small hiccups of the evening, you found yourself excited to see V again. You weren’t the type to sit and wait by the phone, but even so it didn’t take long for his first message to appear a mere twenty minutes later. You grinned like an idiot when you heard the soft ding, making Nero smirk knowingly from where he sat on the couch with Kyrie.

#fanfic #one shot #v x reader #blind date #writing prompt #my writing #dmc5 v #dmcv #devil may cry #reader insert

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flowerflamestars · 6 years ago

Text

Ivy Moon: Part Five

Cassian had many expectations about getting to see Nesta work.

He was almost used to the ease with which she used her power. Constant- like breathing- so casual it couldn’t bely the astonishing depth of her strength. He also knew, from Rhys and Feyre, that Nesta was one of the best in the world at what she did.

So he hadn’t expected her to find the object that cursed him, and start laughing.

Nesta listed toward the toward the stone wall, trying to catch her breath.

“Nesta- what”-

She waved a hand at him, and the tower room before them was engulfed in a circle of flame. Not the rainbow of colors Nesta had shown him before, but white hot. Cleansing fire.

“Stay here,” She called, and jumped through the flames like parting a curtain.

—-

Nesta was glad not just that the potency of her fire could cage in a curse- but that through the arcing flames, even with wolf eyes, Cassian might miss how badly her hands were shaking.

Because she was right.

And it was more- more than she’d dreamed of or hoped for, imagined or wanted. More than Cassian’s heartbeat under her teeth or his perfect laugh meeting Amren.

It was magic.

At the very middle of a round wooden table, centered in spelled tower, a globe of gold sat.

Nesta knew at the touch of bare skin, a spindle would extend to draw blood.

But like this, it would have fit in the palm of her hand. A perfect sphere, the surface a mad tangle of roses and moons, stars and blossoms that seemed to shift if she stared too long. Within the fire she could hear it’s song.

Ancient and fae, it promised everything: devotion, love, partnership.

Nesta stripped off her jacket and threw it over the table. Muffled, it was nothing to pick up, contained in the leather.

She bundled it in her arms, fighting down another delighted laugh, and vanished the fire.

—-

Rationally, Cassian knew Nesta had been inside the circle flame for seconds, minutes at most.

That this was what she did. And above all else, that this witch was dangerous. But he couldn’t see anything, and it was making him crazy. Wolf stretched beneath his skin, agitated and unhappy. Even his magic- not keyed to curses, or anything like them- seemed to say danger, danger.

And then the flames vanished and Nesta stepped through, stripped down to an incredibly distracting tank top and carrying a jacket wrapped bundle.

“Got it,” She said, with a smile that was almost eerily pointed.

Nesta started back down the stairs before he could reply. Cassian found himself tripping behind her, eyes unerringly drawn to the pale curve of her shoulders, the nape of her neck.

“What is it?” Cassian asked, when it became clear Nesta wasn’t going to say anything.

They were crossing back through the main floor of the library, lights slowly fading to extinguish behind them. Nesta stopped in the doorway to pat the wall, as if in silent thank you, before replying.

“Cursed spindle,” She said, too casual. “I think it called you. You picked it up, got stabbed, and your blood keyed the curse.”

Nesta strode forward into the antechamber and finally stopped, glowing in the chandeliers soft light. Cassian slid to her side, and the look she glanced over him was pure and untempered mischief.

What the hell?

“Where,” Nesta asked, head tilted like a predator, “Does the third door lead?”

Cassian blinked. He didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on, but his wolf couldn’t resist even a bit of the challenge in her stance. “Underground garage? Rhys’ dad loved cars.”

“Perfect,” Nesta replied, and stalked forward.

If the library castle itself was a heart wrenching mix of elegant and ancient, the garage was the same, amped to an entirely different level. Winding steel stairs led them down, lit in neon light. White slowly melted through the color spectrum to blinding, electric pink before they reached the floor.

Nesta took one look and snorted.

A cave overhead, rough hewn and dark. Bellow, gleaming pavement interrupted only by inset white lights, and rows of cars. The light flared as Nesta walked forward, framing the drive out in bands of throbbing white.

“Rhys is seriously never going to drive any of these cars?” Nesta asked.

“Most likely never,” Cassian said, rueful. Something about the hunger in her gaze, the sharpness of her movements was making the blood pound in his veins. His wolf liked that- so damn much.

Nesta danced down one row of cars, and then another, quick steps ringing in the cavern.

Cassian tried very hard not to look like he was literally a wolf, slavering at her heels.

Finally, she stopped in front of a small car, silver gleaming in the neon light. Nesta laid a single hand on the hood, ignition starting at her touch. He bit back a laugh at the utterly pleased look on her face.

She dropped the bundle in her arms on the hood, a strangely melodious thunk echoing.

“So we’re stealing a car,” Cassian drawled, “And you’re enchanting it?”

She was circling the vehicle, magic at a low hum. “Exactly,” Nesta said, voice low. She tapped each wheel, leaving a strange sparkle in the air, before sliding into the drivers seat. The jacket wrapped magical object disappeared, like she’d spelled it to follow her.

Cassian took a deep breath, and did the same.

In the small space, there was no escaping her scent- his touch lingering on her skin, intertwined with her magic and aggression, overlaid with gasoline.

“Okay,” Nesta began, pulling out onto the dark drive out of the cavern, “I can destroy the cursed object.” The way she said it made his heart stutter.

“But?”

She smiled, realer and softer. “But it’ll be bloody and very time consuming. I know someone who can take care of it quickly, and will enjoy the process perhaps even more.”

They emerged into the not quite right, incredibly beautiful fall light of the castle drive. On a road properly, Nesta sped up, the engine purring. Cassian felt just as combustible.

“I’ll do it myself if you want,” Nesta offered, eyes flitting over his face, “But it’ll be faster this way.”

Cassian made himself breathe normally. There was no question to whether he trusted Nesta, but he wanted answers. And the sooner the curse was handled- well, court was the wrong word, but date didn’t fit either.

He wanted to know her, to keep getting to know her, without the curse pulling them together. Without magic blurring every boundary, Cassian wanted to find normal reasons to earn sleeping at her side. To return to the library, to bring her that horrifying coffee at work, to be a real part of her life.

The words caught in his throat, and Cassian could only nod.

But Nesta- because she was Nesta- understood well enough. “Okay,” She repeated. “Do you know where the wards end?’

Easy- it was always so easy with her, Nesta’s words grounded him again. “The closest?” Cassian said, pushing his hair from his face, “About a mile east.”

Nesta nodded, and the world blurred.

Without even a thud, or a bump in momentum, the car was suddenly on a different road altogether. They sped the last few feet over the wards, and the world outside became bright and bluer. No longer all golden and magic, but real and still lovely forest, half turned toward winter.

“What the fuck?” Cassian spluttered before he could stop himself, choking out a laugh.

Nesta grinned back. “Journey spell,” She said, “All roads are one.”

He followed her out of the car, colder air here blowing through the trees. The bundle had reappeared at Nesta’s feet. If she felt the cold on her bare skin, Nesta didn’t flinch. Cassian had to wonder how much magic she was pulling- unfeeling to the elements like he was before the change.

“Two rules,” Nesta said, pulling a knife from somewhere, that keened greeting in her hand. “Do not say thank you, no matter what. And use full names, always.”

It clicked in Cassian’s head the same moment Nesta sliced cleanly down her palm.

“You’re summoning a faerie?”

Nesta waved her bleeding hand in the air. By some old magic, the blood remained, an outline forming. “Something like that,” She agreed, “It’s polite to make a door.”

And a door it was- blood smeared lines coming together. Until the moment it all locked in place, chiming, and a hole in the world tore. Through it, Cassian could see vivid forest, gnarled and ancient. A lavender lake lapped gently under moonlight.

This was faerie.

On soundless steps, Nesta returned to his side. “Ready?” It was a challenge again, enough to make him bold.

Cassian reached for Nesta’s bleeding hand. Meeting her eyes steadily, even as he felt the blush starting on his face, Cassian healed her again- just like he had that first night. But this time, he licked away the blood.

The soft sigh that fell from her mouth made Cassian shudder. His wolf was keening.

Nesta let out a long breath, slowly pulling back her hand and stepping away.

From around her neck, the chain pale beside the warm gold of the amber Nesta had yet to take off, she pulled another necklace. It hadn’t been there a moment before, and pooled in her hand like moonlight.

At it’s end a small horn hung- bone bound in silver and gold. A hunters horn, but the magic felt like the Archerons home. Old and powerful, protective and enchanting. Nesta sketched one more long look over Cassian, before she raised it to her lips and blew.

Like it knew what she had called, the doorway shuddered, and the landscape shifted.

Cassian was painfully alert at the sight of that green, luminous land.

At first he thought it was the false moons hanging in the sky- three phases all in one- but the man striding toward Nesta really was that pale. White, white, skin. Huge grey eyes that could swallow the sky, hair the silver color of true starlight.

It wasn’t until he stepped through the doorway- fearless, grinning- that Cassian realized he knew that face.

Those were Nesta’s eyes. Her dangerous cheekbones, sharp features. The same face entirely, but sharpened further with masculinity. More alike than Nesta looked like her own siblings.

If not for the undeniable glow of immortality, the knife blade ears that marked this man as fae.

The smile on his face grew even more familiar as he strode straight to Nesta, swooping down to kiss both her cheeks. Cassian was going to rattle out of his own skin.

“Darling,” The faery said, ageless voice accentless and silken. “How fairs the heir of my heart?”

“Gwyn,” Nesta began, and stopped when the faery made a low noise.

“That’s not what you used to call me.” It was odd to hear such a rambunctious tone come out of that familiar but not mouth. He was teasing, after he’d been called from another world and arrived fully armed.

“Papa,” Nesta sighed, half a laugh. “I need your help.”

“Of course! But first,” He pivoted, tossing a long arm over Nesta’s shoulders and turning them both, “Introduce me to your mate.”

Mate.

Mate, mate, mate. With a great horrible shudder, Cassian’s heart briefly stopped in his chest. Did she know? He hadn’t thought of a way to tell her yet- felt like an ass beyond measure if this was how Nesta found out Cassian belonged to her.

But Nesta only briefly closed her eyes, sighing. When she found Cassian’s gaze, whatever apprehension he felt melted with the soft amusement twisting her mouth.

“Papa, meet Cassian Leandro Aguilar.” Her head tilted with the words, taking in Cassian’s surely blushing face like she wanted to eat him alive.

The fae man strode forward to grab Cassian’s hand in an enthusiastic grip. “Ah, a wolf!” He said, eyes sparkling, “I knew a hunters heart was always for my girl. Be welcome, Cassian Leandro Aquilar.”

He inclined his head, regal as any monarch.

Nesta, visibly smirking, stepped closer to Cassian’s side. With a possessive sweep up his arm that did nothing- absolutely nothing - to calm him down, she said, “This is my great grandfather, Gywnn Ap Nudd, Lord of the Wild Hunt.”

Fighting, and probably failing to keep the thousand questions he was thinking off his face, Cassian replied with the traditional fey words. “Well met, Gywnn Ap Nudd, Hunter’s Lord.”

With a laugh that sounded like thunder booming, Gywnn clapped Cassian on the back, hard enough he was pushed forward.

Nesta was definitely trying not to grin.

Pleased, and strangely looking like he was growing taller by the minute, the faery turned to his granddaughter. “How may I aid, dear heart? I know you didn’t call me to meet your lover, though you should have.”

His voice was like a bonfire, warm and laughing.

Nesta waved the knife in her hand, “You would have met him at Feyre’s wedding.”

“Ach, bad form to upstage your little sister!”

Cassian had heard the stories of the Wild Hunt. It was impossible to be supernatural and not know the name. The immortal warriors, who rode the storms lightening. Savage and free, led by the incarnation of every violent dream and raging passion- the Hunter’s Lord.

Who Nesta called Papa.

But what echoed harder through his head was- upstage?

Cassian tuned back into the familial teasing, as Nesta vanished the knife in her hand and thrust the golden globe beneath her grandfathers beautiful face.

If it had seemed like Gywnn was growing taller, he was massive now. He bared sharp teeth at the faintly keening metal. “Which one of you?”

Around them, the smell of ozone and moisture was growing. A burst of sharp wind snapped Nesta’s hair free from it’s tie, the silken mass blowing against Cassian’s shoulder.

“Mine,” Cassian admitted, meeting ageless grey eyes.

Gwynn growled.

“How long has it tried and failed to take root?” As if in response to his utter anger, the spindle popped free from the globe, smelling of Cassian’s blood.

It was still tempting- terrible longing, like every fear and loneliness Cassian had ever felt could be fixed. Promised love, promised home, promised family. He took a deep, shuddered breath, and thought- pack.

Azriel, the brother and best friend who’d never left him. Rhysand, who tried so damn hard. Bright Feyre, terrifying Elain, tiny godlike Amren, rough and tumble Lucien.

And Nesta.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta- power and beauty and challenge, his anchor to this life that he’d been lucky enough to find.

The siren call faded like it had never existed at all.

“They know better than to touch our bloodline,” Gwynn was still speaking, thunderous. “No matter that your power holds. Seelie filth.”

He turned his head, and Cassian met head on eyes with lighting streaking across their grey skies. “I will hunt,” Gywnn intoned, weighty and old as the bones of the world. With the words, he grew more seemingly human again, but the eyes remained. “Truly, am I sorry this was the push fate chose. A wolf is always welcome in our family.”

Nesta snickered before Cassian could reply.

“Ach, child, you know your uncles are going to want to visit now and run with a pack once more.” Gwynn told her.

Right- faery lord grandfather, faery uncles? Cassian could handle this.

Like she could sense his mounting confusion, Nesta tucked an arm around Cassian’s hip, leaning with the motion. The anxious pressure on his heart melted away, but it remained racing.

“Alaistair is always welcome,” Nesta said, “Finn too, but Oberon has to stop getting in fistfights with Lucien.”

Gywnn laughed again, and a little more of the horror dissipated. “Friendly fistfights,” He insisted, waving a hand. “And I’ve heard the son of oak will have backup these days, when his inability to resist mischief gets the better of him.”

Nesta only raised her eyebrows, “Elain asked me to set him on fire, last yule.”

“But who’s more loyal than a wolf?” Gywnn shot back. “Truly, I am pleased by all of this. It will be a fine hunt.” He looked back and forth between then, the space between their bodies that had ceased to exist, and with a smile that Cassian suddenly saw Feyre in completely, Gywnn swooped forward to kiss them both on the brow.

His lips felt like frost.

But his tone was that of a pleased parent, jolly and proud. “Go with my blessing, Cassian Leandro Aguilar. And with my love, Nesta Nimue Marianne Acheron.”

And he disappeared, the blood door Nesta had carved from the world vanishing as well.

Cassian felt a little like he’d been too close to an explosion. His ears were ringing, white in his vision, thoughts a wild scramble. He knew Nesta was looking up at him, waiting for the questions he needed to ask.

But instead, what came out was, “Your middle name in Nimue?”

Nesta punched him in the chest, playfully. “Fuck off, Leandro,” She said his name perfectly, of course, a loving caress around the syllables. “My mother was an artist and a seer- Elain’s middle name is fucking Guinevere.”

Cassian caught her hand, twisting their fingers together. “Does that make Az Lancelot, or Arthur?”

She huffed in disgust and began tugging him forward, back to the car.

With a single snap of Nesta’s fingers, it started, engine purring to life. Grinning, Nesta waved that same hand out toward the road, like the windshield didn’t exist. It was the only warning Cassian got for the world shuddering with change all around them again- until suddenly they were on a highway.

One he was sure didn’t exist- and hadn’t ever been there before.

“That,” He tried not to gasp, “Is some journey spell.”

Nesta flicked bright eyes over him, “It depends,” She said, punching the car forward fast enough that Cassian felt slightly flattened, “On how much you think you’ll enjoy the trip.”

It was impossible not to smile back.

They made it into another forest, green racing past- because Nesta drove like a god damn demon- before she broke the silence again.

“You can ask,” Nesta said, voice amused.

Cassian dropped the thread he’d been slowly ripping from his jacket, and sighed a breath. He’d didn’t know where to start- he wanted to know everything. About the curse, about how, why, it had effected them both, about her.

He’d wanted to learn her slow. Natural, not to ask for too much.

“You’re an eighth fae?” Cassian asked, softly. It didn’t change anything at all. Aside from a wild urge to laugh at the thought of the Lord of the Wild Hunt meeting Rhysand. He’d need a camera.

Nesta shook her head. “A bit more than a quarter Unseelie. My father was human, but my grandmother fell in love with one of the forest knights.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, and said carefully, not looking at him, “Feyre, Elain, all three of us- we’re different than other witches. Maybe because of the mix of bloodlines, or elemental magic, no one knows- but, we get less mortal every year.”

Less mortal- less human, she meant. Less- Cassian’s throat went tight.

“Feyre isn’t going to die on Rhys in a century,” He blurted.

Nesta’s mouth twisted happily. “No,” She replied, “None of us are going anywhere.”

The tightness in his throat grew like swallowed tears. Most witches were closer to human than any other creature. They’d live a century, maybe one and a half- ageless and graceful and magic, but still mortal.

Cassian- a full-blooded wolf dredged in magic, with old lineages on both sides- hadn’t known the touch of time for what felt like an age. Sure, he could die. If someone tried to kill him, if something more powerful hunted him down- but- but he wasn’t going to have to outlive her.

Swallowing hard, Cassian groped for her hand, only to have Nesta meet him halfway.

“Oh fuck,” Cassian realized, “So when Lucien said, our court, he meant?”

Nesta breathed a laugh, her grip on his hand tight. “Lucien was being dramatic. As witches, we cannot be counted among the courts of faery.”

“But you’ve ridden the Hunt’s storms,” Cassian guessed. It was easy to imagine- the wind in her hair and fires burning all around. Women weren’t allowed permanent membership in the Wild Hunt- they were too fierce - but it was impossible not to imagine them taking a death blessed witch as a guest.

She finally looked back at him. “The Wild Hunt brought us home, when my mother died.” Nesta said. “Gywnn is the only father we ever knew. “

Slowly, Cassian traced circles on the back of her hand. The world was still blurring past, but he was almost certain she was letting magic drive for her now.

“So, Uncles?”

Nesta let go of the steering wheel entirely, and twisted her body to face him. “The hunters,” She replied simply, eyes sparking. Like they weren’t the legends and nightmares of the supernatural world. “They helped raise us. Alaistair, Oberon, Alcheon, Finn. Gim Won-Sul - all of the twelve, and some of their husbands.”

Of fucking course.

Of course- Nesta, death walking, magic incarnate- had been raised by the most feared and noble warriors the world knew.

Twelve, always twelve- who’d been culled from their final battlefields and granted immortality to ride with the Hunt, honor and violence and wildness in their blood forevermore.

And Cassian was going to meet them. At his brothers wedding, apparently.

Nesta laughed at the look on his face, and squeezed his hand once more before letting go and taking control of the car again.

Tamping down on the urge to touch her- to make sure this was all really happening- Cassian raked a hand through his hair. “So how does this all tie into the curse?” He asked, carefully, “The spindle was Seelie made?”

Nesta took a vicious turn on the empty round, car skidding with speed. Over the sound of the engine and his own heart, Cassian wouldn’t have heard her if he weren’t a wolf.

“Do you know the story of sleeping beauty?”

What- what? “Um, faery doesn’t get invited to a baptism, girl gets cursed, poor dragon gets hurt,” He ticked off the moments, uncertain, “Creepy sleep kissing? It’s a human story, isn’t it?’

Nesta’s knuckles whitened. “Not the real one.”

Cassian waited, and tried very hard not to think- so I’m the princess? Nesta the knight had a ring to it that was borderline erotic in his head, admittedly.

Finally, she sighed. “Once upon a time, a girl asked a faery to find her true love.” Nesta flicked an irritated hand, “She was a princess, or a witch- either way, young. Young and without any knowledge of the Seelie court.”

Cassian pushed down the image of Nesta holding a sword, and listened.

“Seelies like rules, and playing with mortals,” She continued. Cassian couldn’t help but remember his mothers voice telling him about the Unseelie- too busy taunting monsters and testing themselves. “So the faery asked her, why do you ask for love? Why not riches, or good fortune? And the girl replied, I cannot live without love. So the faery says, so you shall not.”

“And with his promise- the spell was cast. He made a spindle of gold, molten from the fire of a dragon, and told her to prick her finger. The world is a tapestry, the faery explained, and fate are it’s threads.”

“That’s true though,” Cassian interrupted. “Magic users feel the tug of fate all the time.”

Oddly, Nesta flushed. “That is true,” She agreed, “But we’re getting to the important part.”

She switched gears and continued, the road they were on a wild curve now. “Blood is the best binding for any curse. And Seelie cannot lie- but they can omit. He promised her she wouldn’t live without love, so she didn’t. For mortals who touched one of the faery spindles, it usually meant death. But if you were magical, you disappeared- slept, or dreamed, elsewhere, while the Seelie siphoned away the magic that made you.”

That was- “But my magic stayed intact,” Cassian said, “It never changed.”

“Nope,” Nesta said, sharp and happy. And slammed on the brakes.

While Cassian had been unable to look away from her, they’d changed places more. The magic road turned real, Nesta somehow driven them straight to the coastline.

“I thought we could use a detour,” Nesta said, but from the way her eyes wouldn’t stop moving over his face, Cassian didn’t think that was actually what she meant.

He followed her out to the sand, couldn’t help the small chuckle as she plopped right down onto the cold ground, hair whipping in the wind.

The arm she let him tuck around her pale shoulders almost made him laugh outright, sprawling beside her. Cassian took a deep breath, for second all wolf- salt and sea, bracken and wet sand. And in the center of it all Nesta, smelling like fire and his touch.

He bumped her shoulder lightly, grinning. “You brought me to a beach.”

Nesta had to twist to meet his eyes. “You took me to dinner, first.”

Overhead seagulls screamed of an oncoming storm, but the sky had nothing on the light in her eyes. “And you took me dancing, at the only bar in New York where we could actually get drunk.”

Nesta smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” She’d grabbed a handful of his sweater when she turned, the weight of her hand on his stomach some kind of wonderful torture.

Rather than kiss her- because if he kissed her right now, Cassian had no idea if he’d ever stop- he dragged Nesta even closer. She turned her face into his shoulder, laughing.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Nesta seemed completely content to lean on him and watch the ocean. There was no pretending that simple action didn’t make his heart swell in his chest. The third time, however, that the wind flipped her hair in his face, Cassian started idly braiding it back.

“So,” He began, fishtailing together soft locks, “No one who touched the spindle ever found love?”

It seemed infinitely sad, but also- impossible? If rules were set, magic had to obey them. Most of the time, at least.

“Mhmm,” Nesta replied at first. She was nuzzling his neck, her scent so warm and happy that Cassian almost regretted asking. “Not quite.”

She sat back, pulling her legs under her to kneel facing him. “When faeries say true love, they don’t mean what humans or even most magical creatures do.”

The sky rumbled, and the ocean sang its soothing song. But Cassian got it a moment before she said it, pure unadulterated adrenaline crashing through him. A burn- a promise.

“It’s the rarest thing in the world, a soul bond.”

He stopped breathing. With cold, shaking hands, Cassian cupped her face. It took a few tries to get the words out. “Nesta- Nesta- we’re soulmates?”

And she smiled back, not a sharp edge in sight.

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, uncaring as the wind kicked up around them, as soft drops began to fall. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you that you’re my mate- that I’m- but you’re my soulmate.”

“Soulbonded,” Nesta corrected, with a watery laugh. “With the red string of fate. There’s no life where we haven’t met. Our bones are the same stardust, our magic the same alchemy.”

Cassian stopped pretending the only wetness on his face was the rain.

He’d lost his father and then his mother. His oldest brother hadn’t known he’d existed for his first century of life. His entire pack, ripped from his soul. Had grown up close enough to humans to know what fear looked like on their faces, and for a long time, fought alongside his brother just to have a safe place in the world.

But he had a soulmate.

Cassian lurched forward until his forehead touched Nesta’s. He didn’t have the words for what he was feeling, only that he was so god damn lucky. The tears were coming in earnest, silent and embarrassing, but Nesta held him tight as the storm crashed in.

Finally, saltwater on her lips, Nesta murmured. “Precioso lobo.” His heart wasn’t made to contain this much happiness. “Do you know I always hated dating? It was always too much, or not enough.”

Cassian laughed, low and abbreviated. “And left a trail of broken hearts behind you, probably.”

“I’m sorry,” Nesta shot back, close and dripping and perfect, “There is no way in hell you learned to dance like that without many partners.”

He laughed for real that time, the noise too big for the precious space between them. “That’s true,” Cassian admitted, “But I started learning from my mom.”

The light in Nesta’s eyes flared, wicked. “That makes sense,” She said, utterly serious before sliding into a laugh, “Since she taught me to speak Spanish when I was four.”

“Oh my god,” Cassian grumbled. He was too happy to be truly embarrassed, but some part of him was. That explained entirely why Nesta’s accent reached right out for his heartstrings and pulled.

He buried his face in her neck.

Slowly, Nesta’s hands reached to card through his hair, hesitant. “I think,” She said, voice nearly swallowed by the ocean, “She wanted to make sure that when I said what mattered, it would feel real.”

Nesta was more than real- a dream, a gift. But Cassian thought of every word he wanted to give her- love, love, love; mi vida, mi corazon, the best parts of himself.

The rain began to pour down, dripping from Nesta’s face onto his.

He pulled back to meet her eyes. “Fate was always on our side.”

She breathed half a laugh. “Always is,” Nesta purred, before jumping to her feet.

And then she was running through the downpour, down the beach and back to car. It took half a second to rise and follow, her laugh cutting through the thunder as Cassian gave chase.

She cheated of course, magically traveling ahead when he got too close.

But when Cassian slid into the car to find her laughing- soaking wet, beautiful- it didn’t matter.

He had Nesta Acheron by his side, and he’d remain there for the rest of his life.

@bon-bon-salvatore @strangeenemy @sannelovesreading @maddieimhot @ladyvanserra @rhysand-darling @empress-ofbloodshed @highfaenesta @marianaftm @illyrianinterrasen @tntwme @the-smoldering-illyrian-beauty @jahelyden @sjmasstrash @sunsummoner @rairrai @rhysanoodle @a-trifling-matter @eastside-divebar @skychild29 @happy-smiling-things @missanniewhimsy @abillionlittlepieces @poisonous00 @macomafastraash @vampwitchel @symwinter @acotarfanfic @rapunzel1523 @the-regal-warrior @wolffrising @tswaney17 @they-call-me-cuatro @queenofillea1 @neverlandoftimespacefuckery @dayanna-hatter @mastercommandercaptain @vidalinav @mindnumbmikey @wewhohavefailed @city-of-fae @rhysanddarlingfeyre @fucking-winchester-trash @lordof-bloodshed @firemadeofgirl

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buckychristwrites · 6 years ago

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Two Wrongs Make It Right | OS | p.p.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter's used to being the one doing the saving, but on what he assumed would be one of the hardest nights of his life, the rescuing of a stranger makes the whole thing worth it.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: So fluffy

A/N: Hey! Been a while since I’ve written for my favorite Petey boy. This is for @upsidedownparker‘s 5K Writing Challenge! Thank you to Kath for letting me participate. The prompt I wrote for is Fake Dating!AU! Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist

In hindsight, Peter had no one to blame for being in this situation except himself.

He mailed in the RSVP. He bought the gift. He rented the suit. And then, for reasons beyond even his understanding, he showed up at the wedding.

And now he was sitting on the bride’s side, waiting for the ceremony to start while trying to hide the fact that he could not for the life of him stop fidgeting. He still couldn’t figure out why he listened to Tony when he told him to come to the wedding out of spite. It seemed like good advice at the time, but now it just seemed silly. Who’s really being spited when you actually accept the pity invite from your ex-girlfriend of almost four years who cheated on you with the man she’s marrying?

The little chapel was packed, Peter noticed as he scanned the room. If he had to take a guess as to how many people were in attendance, he’d say about sixty people, seventy-five maximum. Which isn’t a terrible number. Although, with the help of Tony, he could’ve gotten around two hundred or more people there. Hell, he could’ve invited no one except his coworkers, who happen to be the Avengers by the way, and it would’ve still been cooler than anything the actual groom dished out. Not that Peter was bitter or anything like that. He had a good life, being on his way to getting a masters in biomechanics and engineering. That, on top of being an Avenger, who had time for long term relationships?

Nope, not bitter at all.

“I wish they served alcohol at these things.” The voice spooked him, causing him to jump. Turning quickly, he found you sitting next to him. From the look on your face, he could tell that you were just as uninterested in being there as he was. Your head rolled to the side to look at him. “I mean, the ceremony is just a pregame to the reception right? And pregaming generally involves drinking.” He chuckled.

“Y-yeah, that would definitely make this more tolerable,” He admitted. You huffed slightly, before extending your hand towards him and introducing yourself. He stared blankly at your hand for a second, forgetting everything he knew about talking to another human being.

“Peter. Peter Parker,” He told you as he took your hand in his and shook it. As soon as you pulled your hand away, you looked around the room for a few seconds. Peter looked up at the front again, although after a short amount of time had passed, his eyes trailed over to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You here for the bride?” You asked him, although he knew you were just trying to start conversation. You knew the answer by his seat in the room.

“Yeah,” He said, sounding more sullen than he had meant to. The way you rose an eyebrow and tilted your head confirmed you had noticed. “Ex-girlfriend.” You nodded once in understanding.

“Harsh,” You said simply. “But I get it. I’m an ex too.” His eyebrows furrowed together, as he looked around to make sure that he hadn’t messed up and sat on the wrong side of the room.

“Of the bride?” He asked, turning to face you again.

“The groom,” You told him. “I just sat on the bride’s side because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being on his.” The corners of his lips twitched. Peter knew there was more to the story, but just before curiosity got the better of him, the music changed to signal the beginning of the ceremony.

A large lump formed in his throat as he turned to watch the wedding party parade down the aisle, immediately facing forward again once they all had lined up at the front. He stood along with everyone else when the bridal song began, but he didn’t turn to face her. When she came into view, Peter swallowed down a gasp.

MJ looked beautiful, although he had expected her to, as she walked down the aisle. The closer she got to the front of the alter, the harder it was for Peter to breathe. The whole ceremony went by in a blur, as Peter had a hard time focusing on it.

It wasn’t that he was still in love with MJ, because that went out the window a long time ago. It was the fact that he thought that he would be doing better. She played him, fucked him over in a way that no one deserved. He gave her everything and she threw it away. From what people told him, karma would catch up with her in time. But it’s now been two years, and it seemed like things were only getting better for her while things were just the same as they had been for him.

“Do you, Michelle Jones, take Eugene Thompson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked.

“I do,” She said earnestly. Flash looked way too satisfied at her answer as he turned to scan the crowd. Peter side eyed his neighbor, and chuckled as you scrolled through your phone, not even bothering with the events taking place in front of you.

“And do you, Eugene Thompson, take Michelle Jones to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do!” Flash said eagerly. He looked through the crowd again, until his eyes landed on you, and then jumped to Peter. They narrowed, and Peter looked away from him.

He zoned out, missing the rest of the ceremony and only being brought back when the crowd began to cheer and applaud. He couldn’t help but glance over at you as you stuffed your phone in your bra and lazily clapped along with the rest of the guests. The newlyweds did the traditional running out of the room while everyone cheered, but Peter was thankful that the reception was in the party center room next door, and that there was no need to move to a secondary location. Or to go outside.

The crowd began to shuffle out of the chapel. When Peter turned to where you were sitting, he found that you were already gone. He suddenly felt slightly lonely as he stood and sauntered out of the chapel with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants.

The music was loud and boisterous as he entered the reception room, the bass making the floors vibrate beneath Peter’s feet as he walked to his table. The chair tipped backwards slightly as he flopped down. The music changed as the bride and groom were introduced, but Peter ignored them, staring down at the table instead. He thought about all of the things he could be doing instead of being at this wedding. Studying. Watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Playing video games with Ned. Sleeping. Staring at a wall. Literally anything other than this.

“PENIS PARKER!”

The voice was so loud that Peter thought for a second that it was yelled over the microphone. He slowly turned to see Flash making his way towards him while being scolded by MJ, who was hanging off his arm. But Flash didn’t seem all that concerned.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter said, trying hard to hide his complete discontempt, though his monotone voice made it very unconvincing. He swallowed hard. “MJ.”

“How are you, Peter?” MJ asked in a delicate voice. He shrugged.

“Fine,” He said simply, not bothering to return the question.

“Why’d you come alone, Parker?” Flash said in a mocking tone. Peter began to think of high school, and was now really wondering why he didn’t think this would happen. “You know, the whole point of us giving you a plus one is so you can actually bring someone to the party, not look sad and pathetic when you don’t use it-”

“Why would he need a plus one when his date was also invited?” A cold voice asked. Peter spun to see you standing right behind him, two drinks in your hands as you walked over to the seat next to him and sat down. When Peter looked back up, for the first time in his entire life, he found Flash looking stunned, his mouth hanging open while no words came out. As you scooted your chair so it was pressed against Peter’s and looped your arm through his, Flash stammered in obvious frustration.

“You’re here with him?” He finally blurred out. You stared at him, with a face that read slight annoyance and confusion at the question.

“Was that not obvious?” You asked him. “I know you saw us sitting together at the ceremony, did you think that was a coincidence?” Peter had to give you a lot of credit, because with the way your stories were rolling off your tongue with such ease, he found himself almost believing them.

“Wh-how long have the two of you been together?” MJ asked, fighting to mask the shock of her own. Peter, taking the hint from you when you squeezed his bicep, spoke up.

“About a year and a half now, I believe?” He asked, turning to you. “Right, babe?”

“Two years in September,” You added, as if you were in sync with him. When Peter looked up at Flash, satisfaction filled him as he noticed the color had left his face. Flash leaned down towards you, leaving MJ with an annoyed look on her face.

“Can we talk?” Flash said so quietly that if Peter didn’t have super hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it. Without missing a beat, you looked at Peter.

“No,” You said simply, a bright smile filling your cheeks. It was obvious you were enjoying this way too much. Taken aback, Flash stood up straight again. As he put his arm around MJ’s waist, he didn’t appear to notice the glare she was shooting him.

“Thank you both for coming,” MJ said before grabbing his hand and pulling Flash away. You laughed as you watched them before turning back to Peter.

“Sorry about that,” You said as you took a sip of your drink. “You looked like you could use a bit of rescuing.” Peter shook his head as he took a large gulp of the drink you brought him. Rum and coke. Not a bad choice.

“No, thank you,” He said genuinely. “I’ve never seen Flash act like that before in all the years I’ve known him. Made this whole thing worth it.” You laughed before taking another sip of your drink. A long amount of time had passed before Peter realized he was staring at you. “So I have to ask. What’s the story between the two of you?” Rolling your eyes, you finished your drink before turning to him.

“I dated Flash in college,” You paused to laugh slightly. “For not quite five months.” Peter’s eyebrows met his hairline. He had thought, by Flash’s behavior, that it had been a lot longer than that. You laughed again when you saw his expression. “Yeah, not the longest time but long enough for me to be embarrassed by it.” You folded your hands on the table. “It was in my junior year. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship and really only wanted someone to fool around with. But he wanted more, and I figured what the hell?” You shrugged. “He was crazy clingy and a huge douchebag. I was getting ready to break up with him when he told me he was in love with me.” You shuttered. “That was a rough day. And now every time I see him, he hints that he’ll drop anyone and everyone if I said the word. So the goal for this evening is to not be alone with him at any point ever.” Peter nodded.

“Fair enough,” He said. In the back of his head, he noted to remember to call Ned later to tell him everything he had found out about the man who was the biggest bully in school, once upon a time. You leaned on the table, bringing your hands up to rest your chin on.

“And now I have a date,” You pointed out. “Which makes it even harder for him to corner me alone.” There was a hint of flirtatiousness in your voice that made Peter blush and look away. While you were a complete stranger and he knew nothing about you, there was a sort of comfort in knowing that he wouldn’t have to spend the reception by himself. And he found you incredibly attractive, which didn’t hurt either.

You sat back slightly in your seat, eyes narrowed at Peter.

“So let me guess,” You started, tilting your head. “High school sweethearts. Thought you were going to be together forever.” Peter felt his chest deflate. “And then one day you came home from a long day of work to find the love of your life screwing the biggest asshole on the planet in your bed.” Peter visibly flinched, and you softened a little bit. “Shit. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry it went down like that.” When Peter caught your eye again, he smiled slightly.

“It’s been years. It’s fine,” He said, shrugging. “Besides, you weren’t completely right.” His smile got wider. “I was coming home from class, not work.” For whatever reason, he felt his heart skip a beat when you smiled back at him.

The two of you whispered throughout all of the emotional parent and wedding party speeches, receiving glares from the people sharing the table as well as surrounding tables. But neither Peter nor you cared. It was the only way either of you could get through the never ending compliments of Flash and MJ as a couple.

Soon after the speeches were over, the newlyweds were brought to the dance floor for their first dance. Perfect by Ed Sheeran began to play, and Peter scoffed. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned to him.

“I bet you anything she only picked this song because he turned down all of the other songs she would’ve much rather picked,” You said as you watched them, an amused smile on your face. Peter laughed a little louder than he intended.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” He told you.

The DJ invited everyone else to join them, and he turned to you.

“Wanna dance?” He asked, holding out his hand. You stared at it, and he could see the wheels turning in your mind before you smiled.

“I’d love to,” You said before slipping your fingers through his and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

As you and him got into a groove together, Peter couldn’t help but notice the looks the two of you were receiving from both MJ and Flash, and for a quick second he felt slightly guilty. He didn’t come to the wedding in an attempt to make MJ jealous, and he didn’t go along with your plot to piss off Flash. The last thing he would want to do was ruin their day, even after everything they did to him.

“God, can you stop with the guilty looks please?” You moaned, and the smile on your face let Peter know you weren’t trying to be hostile. “You should be offended and angry. They clearly have an issue with you having a good time, when they fucked you over so bad.” Peter looked away from you. There was no doubting how right you were. The looks on the newlyweds’ faces read confusion and discontempt. It was obvious that they were letting the newfound information of Peter’s relationship status affect their moods. And despite the fact that it was a very elaborate lie, he was still quite pleased by the whole thing.

Your body was pressed against Peter’s and he was painfully aware of it. He knew that you were just trying to make it look realistic to your audience. It would definitely look odd if the two of you danced like a couple of eighth grader’s at the school dance when you were claiming to be a couple of two years. But there was something different about it. Obviously MJ wasn’t the last person he had been intimate with, but this was a level of intimacy that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

When the song ended, you planted a kiss on Peter’s cheek before pulling from his grasp, and for a quick second, he felt a sort of void from it.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” You told him, your dress twirling as you spun around and walked away. He watched the way it looked like you were gliding, losing himself for a quick second. The sound of a throat clearing from behind him brought him back to Earth.

“Hey, Peter,” A voice said, and he turned to find MJ smiling at him. He could practically feel his heart fall from his chest.

“H-hey MJ,” He said in the best excited voice that he could muster. Through her kind smile, he could see the discomfort in her face. “Beautiful wedding.” She looked around, nodding in agreement.

“Thank you,” She said distantly before turning back to him. “And thank you so much for coming. It’s...it’s really nice to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come.” Peter took this time to look around the room himself. Everything about this conversation was making him uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t either,” He said truthfully, turning back to her with a blank face. She swallowed hard.

“Look, Peter. I just wanna say-” She began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Don’t,” He said, shaking his head. She opened her mouth to speak again, which only made him shake his head harder. “Really. Don’t.” He knew all she wanted to do was apologize, and he wasn’t really in a position to want to lie and tell her it was all okay and forgiven. While he was over it, for the most part, there was still no part of him that had any interest in forgiving her or reconnecting. He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down at the floor. When she looked back up, Peter couldn’t deny the tears in her eyes.

“You look good, Peter,” She told him in a whisper. There was a moment where he just stared at her, his mind running blank, until one face popped into his mind.

“I- my girlfriend. She’s in the bathroom,” He said suddenly, referring to you as he pointed in the direction he had just seen you heading in moments ago. “I should probably go look for her.” Without hesitation, he turned and all but ran towards the bathrooms.

He turned down the hallway just as you were walking out, a look of surprise and confusion on your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but something changed in your face that Peter couldn’t quite understand. Suddenly, you were on him, shoving him against the wall.

“Just go with it,” You said quickly before your mouth crashed into his. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, but then he melted into your kiss. His hands found your hips and his eyes closed once your fingers entangled themselves in his hair. Something ignited in Peter as he deepened the kiss, bringing one of his hands up to hold the side of your head.

“Oh come the fuck on.”

The two of you jumped away from each other as Flash stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The only person who’s allowed to get any sort of action at this wedding is me,” He snapped before storming passed you and Peter and throwing the men’s bathroom door open. When the door swung shut again, you turned to Peter and smiled.

“I heard him coming, thought we could give him a show,” You said coyly. “Not bad, Parker.” He was speechless for a minute, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as he tried to come up with what to say.

“How about we get out of here?” He blurted out accidentally. But when the look on your face was happily surprised and not angry or disgusted, he felt the embarrassment from it wash away. “I could buy you dinner, and we could actually have a fun night and not be surrounded by people we hate.” Considering it, you nodded.

“You know, I think I’d love that,” You told him. “Being petty and pissing Flash off on his wedding day is a great time, but it’s not worth it.” Peter held out his hand, and you took it without an ounce of reluctancy before the two of you walked back through the reception hall. Though he tried his best not to, he couldn’t help but notice MJ sitting at the wedding party table with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, looking around the room in complete uninterest. He thought about letting her know he was leaving, but then decided he didn’t care.

The evening air hit the two of you once you walked out of the wedding hall. Deep purples, pinks, orange and blues painted the sky as the sun was setting. While you walked, the two of you were silent. Peter looked over to find you admiring the sky above, your face awestruck. He couldn’t help but think of what he would’ve missed out on had he decided to skip the wedding. Sure, he wouldn’t have had to relive what MJ and Flash had put him through, but he also wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you, which made it worth it.

“Where do you wanna go?” He asked you, seeing the contemplation in your eyes as you mulled the question over.

“We should just walk for a while and see what we come across,” You told him. There was a long pause before you spoke again. “I almost didn’t come to the wedding, but I’m really glad I did.” You looked up at him. “I’m really glad we had the chance to meet.” Peter sighed in relief.

“I was just thinking the same exact thing,” He told you. The whole night he felt like your thoughts were in sync with his. Which made the experience with you all the better.

“We should get faked married and invite them, see how they react to that,” You said with a mischievous look in your eyes. “That really might push them to divorce.”

“Maybe one day we’ll get really married,” He said before he could stop it, instantly cursing himself. The thought had crossed his mind, but he didn’t mean to say it outloud. That was one fault Peter knew about himself. His filter didn’t always work. The tension that rose in his muscles relaxed the second you laughed.

“We’ll see how this dinner goes first,” You told him. Internally, he thanked every possible spiritual being in the universe that you didn’t punch him or run away instantly.

Within minutes, the sky was dark. Peter found himself growing protective, slipping his coat over your shoulders and pulling you slightly closer to him. Tony had engraved these habits into him, and now he couldn’t stop himself.

“So,” You said, drawing out the word as you looked around at the city surrounding you. Peter looked around with you, as it was obvious you were looking for people. But it was just the two of you for as far as he could see. When you looked back at him, you smiled slyly. “Are we just going to keep walking around, or are you going to stop pretending that you don’t have your web shooter on you right now?” Peter felt his entire body go cold.

“I- I don’t- my what? How- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He stuttered out, shaking his head and breaking eye contact with you. Gently, you grabbed his sleeve and rolled it up to reveal the bracelet that Stark had made him, the one that turned into his web shooter as soon as he touched it. He stared at it for a few seconds before his eyes looked up to you.

“How the hell did you know?” He asked, slightly afraid. Lifting your hands, you reached for a button on his shirt, and when he looked down he saw that it was unbuttoned and showing the red Iron Spider armor he wore under his shirts. You were gentle as you rebuttoned it closed, tapping it with your fingertips before pulling away.

“Besides, Peter,” You said, your smile growing. “You’re not the only one with secrets here.” As you turned away, Peter swore he saw your eyes turn a piercing red color, but they were normal when you looked back at him. “So are we flying or not?”

Peter thought long and hard for a moment. You were a stranger, who evidently knew one of his biggest secrets. And while he should’ve taken that as sign to run away, there was something about you that told him not to. If you were a threat, you would’ve acted on it already now that the two of you were alone. But the smile on your face was too kind, and the way your eyes glowed in the moonlight made him take a chance. He always loved a good risk.

Before he could think about it for any longer, he activated his web shooter, before grabbing you and pulling you closer.

“Hold tight,” He said. Nodding, you jumped onto his back and wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him. With his free hand under your thigh, he took a deep breath and began to sprint, shooting up a web that sent the two of you soaring through the air. The quiet evening air was filled with the sound of your laughter bouncing off the buildings, which elevated his heart to a level he couldn’t recall it being in a long time. As he shot out another web, a bird began flying towards the two of you. He was about to swerve out of the way, but there was a flash of red and suddenly the bird had moved a few yards to the left. His mouth formed into an O shape as he whipped his head to look at you, but you were looking at the sky, smiling and pretending to not notice. As he faced forward again, he couldn’t hide a smile of his own, despite his best efforts.

It was clear that he was definitely not the only one with secrets here.

And he couldn’t wait to learn all of them.

_________________________________________

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black-th1rt3en · 7 years ago

Text

End the new year with a POP and a BANG!

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ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀ!

ᴶᴼᴷᴱᴿ'ˢ ᴿᴱˢᴼᴸᵁᵀᴵᴼᴺ: ᶠᵁᴺ ᴼᵛᴱᴿ ᴹᴼᴺᴱᵞ!

WARNING!: mature content y’all!!

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Also there’s a video that goes with this! I just posted it separately

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COLORS FLOATED WITH A RUBBER SHEEN, anchored by a taut plastic string tied around wads of colorful monopoly cash. None of it was real, even in the ridiculous amount - all fifty million of it.

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The balloons would waver in the slight breeze, sometimes dragging the cash-kedge around until they’d hit against each other and bounce back like a speed-bag. It made an uncomfortable squeak each time it happened, and it was the first thing he woke up to.

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The second was a horrible cold, which short analysis served to reveal his stark nakedness in an uninsulated room. Wide open with all but the windows and doors closed - revealing a grayscale warehouse between the rows of rising color. Down there was a pool of black, the scent ripping at his senses as it glared back at him in the dull reflection of some dull lights hanging above, shading the world in a soft rainbow.

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“Wha…” His lips were numb. Everything was numb and heavy, and his arms… was that rope? He couldn’t move them. He struggled, the friction rubbing at his skin and drawing lines of blood until they hit on the ledge below him. Dripping like a soft faucet. His tongue felt heavy as drool began to fall from his lips, also numb.

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A door slammed open out of his line of sight, and then a voice; one from nightmares, stuff twisted from rotten candy and bloodied lips vibrated through the air like a bolt of lightning. “Wakey wakey, eggs n’ shakey!” There was a string of giggles that followed, mirth seeping into the echoing words, “Did sleeping beauty get all rested up? I sure hope so! It’d be hilarious if you looked bad at your own going away party.”

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There was a short hiss, metal on metal, and a flicker of white came into vision: the sight of metal reflecting light. “Thing is, I don’t know if the rest of the invitations got lost, or no one wanted to see your sorry carcass burst into flames, but no one is here but you and me! Here I was thinking that roasting marshmallows is still a hip thing ta do at partiessss. Suppose I must’ve been wrong.”

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He came into view - the Joker - appearing menacing as ever, green hair long and lanky and pushed back from his face, purple suit tailored and the knife coming full circle as he swung his arms in wide gestures. Every movement was followed with wide, god fearing eyes.

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“You know - wait, wait waiiiiiit - how rude of me, are you cold?” He gestured to the stark nakedness of the man, who was shivering in nothing but his slick skin and a leaf to cover the more…uh, private of areas. “Anyways, y’know so I’ve got a story to tell you, right? It’s actually kinda funny, ha, becoz you’re in it! So, sooooo, I’m sitting in my nice ol’ abode makin’ preparations for the New Years party and I get a nice hospitality call from Niko and you know what he says? Apparently some complete idiot decided to steal all the funds for my little project. So P O O F! A magic transition from this year to the next is gone, because I’m left with next to nothing.”

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The Joker doesn’t laugh this time.

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“I’ll make it work though, I always do. But I couldn’t help but find something funny in it. You know what’s funny about it? Hmmmm? Maybe even, very p o s s i b l y the funniest thing I’ve ever heard?” He leers, teeth bared in a horrible play of a smile. “The thought, the smallest inkling even, that you thought you could burn me and get away clean.”

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Balloons around him, that horrible deadly simper playing on his lips; eyes blacker than death, like two gaping holes that were accentuated by the harsh lines shadowed in his face - he made the devil look pleasant.

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“Bo...B...Boss I sswearya’ve got the wrong idea here - !”

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He laughed, coldly this time, and the absolute chill in his faux amusement pinched harder than the atmosphere of the room.

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“Wrong idea? Wrong idea?!?” He lunged forward, knife reappearing in his grasp and pressing tightly to the man’s quivering bottom lip in a clear message. “Nossiree! You’ve got the wrong i d e a to think that I wouldn’t do this,” He gestured vaguely around him, “when you decided to stab ol’ Uncle Joker in the back. Did ya think I’d let it go to waste?”

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He was seething, foaming at the corners of his mouth and looking like some rabid dog. He turned away, breathing quickly from his nose before his head tucked back to look ahead, gaining some semblance of calmness.

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“Either way I suppose I should thank you,” he laughed shortly, breathlessly here. “just because I realized that full-scale isn’t always the route to really kick things off. I know I seem the flashy type and all, and I really truly am, but maybe jussss’ maybe my New Years resolution will entail me enjoying more of the smaller things in life, like balloons, and miscellaneous flammable stuff, then of course lighters… can’t be complete without a nice one from 7-11 amirite?” He pulled one seemingly from thin air, “Look it’s even got some smiley faces on that and… blood? Ha, I remember, poor register guy didn’t even see it comin for him. He heee.”

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A pause, and he grimaced.

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“Ahh, I’ve gotten off track, where was I, again?”

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He looked thoughtful for a moment and glanced at his wrist as if to check his time but there was no watch, and the man murmured past the knife a barely distinguishable answer.

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“Sh, yeah, I remember! Okay, so you went all houdini with my bucks, leaving just enough for me to throw this little hooplah together last minute to satiate the need for a colorful New Years. I mean if you’re not afraid to burn me, and presumably my money too, then why should I not return the favor? Gracious of me, right? I thought so too.” He giggled some, twisting the blade so it knicked his skin enough to spur feeling but turning the sharp part inwards to allow some restrained movement for a response. “What do you think?”

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“Pleas...please boss. I swear, I’ve got a family..! I swear to you - “

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“You s-suh-suh-swear to me? That’s cute. Cos I could’ve sworn the man on that tape with fifty million of my bucks in tow was you. It’s all here again now, but in monopoly form...” he tapped the knife against the inside of the man’s cheek a few times. “But if we’re making promises, I guess I should re-iterate-uhhh that this is going to hurt, a lotttttttt. And I can say that with about 99% confidence, the one percent being that I’ve never personaly experienced it before, I’ve just got a very good guess. Just make sure to give it a Yelp review if you survive, yeah? I mean I don’t know if you’re fingers will work if that does miraculously happen, but I’m all into miracles.“

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He drew the knife back, and in a single cat-like movement he concealed himself behind the man who was staring forward with blood dripping from his lip and tears streaming from his eyes. He shook his head, moaning incomprehensible pleas. The Joker pushed the chair forward, the scraping of the chair sounding like individual screams as it scraped on the floor and neared him towards the cesspool of black.

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He’d almost forgotten, what between the pain in his hands and the bitter cold and the ramblings of a madman - now his eyes, blurred by their own sorrow, could hardly look away from the fate below, accentuated by the little happy balloons floating around like it really was some sort of pathetic pity party.

⠀

“Money’s miniscule in the grand scheme of things my boy, just gotta enjoy what you’ve got right in front of you.” He snickered, “I mean I surely will, but that’s because I’m not the one covered in flammable gel and about to go skinny-dipping in a fire-hot tub. Literally!”

⠀

The Joker kicked the legs of the chair, watching as the foundation toppled to favor its weight forward and let the man capsize forward into the pool. It was deep enough for him to sit upright, but he’d certainly broken a shin or knee or two on the way down if those pop-pop-pops meant anything.

⠀

The Joker looked on, a cruel smile lilting at his lips and reaching into the depths of his eyes until the small flame from the lighter betwixt his fingers was reflected in them. He extended his arm into the open space then watched it drop down… falling down into the pool as a fire erupted and climbed over the expanse of the surface.

⠀

A balloon popped in the air, a short blaze glittering from the inside and tinted pink from the color of the plastic before it wilted and fell, sending off a concatenation of similar sounds and blazing colors. The Joker hooted, hands clapping together at the shows as he quickly went to the door to avoid unnecessary collateral damage. The fire had yet to draw to the little oil-fish swimming in his little death pool.

⠀

“Liquified-petroleum is light, light enough to fill balloons and very very flammable, and obviously oh so very cheap.” More pops, some so loud they sounded like a line of firecrackers. “I would stay to enjoy the show, but I think I’ll peak this one from the outside.”

⠀

The building shook as the pops became more frequent, until his voice wouldn’t have been heard if he was shouting. But he’d gone through the door, and by now the flames were everywhere and even the water couldn’t save the greedy-fish-man. Everything was burning - from the Monopoly money to the stone floors - and he was burning with it.

⠀

The cacophony of explosions followed the Joker into the night, and a small distance down the street he stopped to turn on his heel and reach into his pocket for some confetti. He’d intended to throw it at the traitor but must’ve forgotten in his excitement, so he gathered it in his palm and threw it into the air, watching as the little shreds of paper floated and danced in the breeze. Some drifted away, some fell down.

⠀

He watched quietly, humming a short tune as his eyes traced the inflamed outline of the building, little embers rising to fill the night with color. There would be fireworks later, it wasn’t quite midnight yet.

⠀

“We buy balloons, we let them go…”

⠀

And surely enough as the flames engulfed the roof of the building, some balloons escaped in the patches unharmed and floated freely into the night, full of vibrancy until the black sky swallowed them whole.

#joker’s new year #balloons #colorful explosions #death #theres a video with it too #american psycho reference #joker loving the sound of his own voice #one sided dialogue #the joker #batman #one shot

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writersmanor · 8 years ago

Text

JINT Chapter 3 Rough Draft

(any criticism, good or bad, is appreciated!)

Negro Trailer

The sun sets upon a busy town. But as one day ends, a new one begins. Almost as soon as the sun set, the lights of the nocturnal village lit up. Shops and tents sprung awake while the rest of the town fell asleep. Busy shopkeepers and merchants set up their goods, showing off the prettiest ones out in front to attract customers, and placing the more interesting ones deeper in their tents. All sorts of baubles and beauties were out for sale; from shiny jewels, to expensive pottery covered with intricate patterns from long-lost tribes. But, there was one shop that stood out from the others: Perrault’s Cobbling.

This was a rather exquisite store. Unlike the other merchants, who merely set up a tent outside, this shop was its own building. It was the go-to store if you needed a shoe repair. But, they also were a stand-alone store, selling shoes, boots, sandals, and other footwear. The owner was a kind, older gentleman named Charles Perrault. He had silver colored hair that seemed to reflect the light around him. Even if there was no immediate light source, he still gave off a friendly aura of kindness. He was a rather quiet and shy man, but was uniformly kind and generous to all his customers. If someone couldn’t pay for their shoe repair, he would lower the prices for them so they could afford it. Many of his neighbors asked why he did this, as it would seem like it would harm his business. He simply smiled, gave them a pat on the back, and walked away.

Perhaps the greatest show of his generosity was his apprentice/surrogate son: Negro. (Nigo for short) He found the young boy in his store one night, trying to steal his prized pair of boots. He told him that he could have the boots, if he worked off his debt to him. It took the child years, but he finally finished working off his payment to the old man. But, he stayed with him because Perrault was the closest thing he had to a father. Charles didn’t complain, and was happy to spend more time with the boy. But as the years went by, the boy slowly turned into a man, and Perrault had never been more proud.

Negro had shown a keen interest in shoes and cobbling from the start; i.e. the boot stealing incident. At first, all Charles had him do was sweep and lock up the store when they were done. But late at night, the little boy snuck his way into the cobbler’s office, watching the old man make shoes. He was fascinated. Every night he watched from the doorway until he could hardly keep his tiny eyes open. One night, several months into Nigo’s employment, he tripped in excitement and made such a ruckus that Perrault took notice. When questioned about the matter, Nigo confessed. After hearing his story, the old cobbler laughed a hearty chuckle.

“Why do you sound so ashamed child? I’m happy that you’ve taken an interest in my work! Come in to my office and I’ll show you up close.”

So, Perrault had an apprentice finally, and a vigorous one at that! He paid close attention to every single thread that Charles sowed into the shoes. His eyes hardly ever wandered far from shoes. He had picked up on making and repairing shoes quick, making his first pair within a year of working at the store. As he grew older, he changed from a shy little kid, to a rather friendly and kind young man. He always greeted customers and saw them off with a smile, a wink, and a nod. He would guide people around the store, showing them to where they needed to go.

But, he would not let people take advantage of his kindness. Once, Nigo caught someone who tried to rob the cash register while Perrault was not looking. Had it not been for Nigo’s quick reflexes, the thief would surely have taken all the money from the store, right under their noses! Nigo wasn’t typically the bitter type, but he swore that if he ever saw that thief’s face again, he would make sure that they never stole again. Perrault was proud of the kind of man Negro was turning out to be. He would have been happy to retire, leaving the shop in the care of the kindly young cobbler-in-training.

Until one day, when they arrived…the men in white. They entered just as the shop unlocked its doors for the late-night shift. There were about 10 of them, almost all with guns at their sides. The largest one of them, who appeared to be the leader, had a large club with serrated edges slung across his back. He walked up to the desk where Charles was working, while the others spread out amongst the merchandise.

“May I help you sir?” the old man asked.

“Cut the formalities, you know why we’re here. Hand the item over to us, or we will take it from you.” demanded the leader.

“Why, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Charles said, feigning ignorance. The leader gnashed his teeth, and slammed his fist against the counter top.

“Quit the act Perrault! We know you have it!” the man in white yelled. Little did he know that there was someone watching him.

“Charles? Is everything alright?” piped up the voice of a young man. Nigo stepped out from the other room, carrying several heavy boxes. The older gentleman grabbed both his shoulders, trying to push him out.

“Negro, get out of this store” he whispered “Get far away from here, and call the authorities!”

“What’s the matter sir? Who are- “he cut himself off once he saw the insignia on one of the men’s breastplate. It was the face of a wolf, with a claw-mark behind it, all the crimson shade of blood. “It’s them…” he stammered in shock “They found me…”

“No dear child, it’s not you they’re after!” Perrault assured “They want something I have, but I won’t give it to them. I need you to leave now!” He tried pushing him out the door, but the young man’s feet locked in place with fear.

“I’m not leaving you with these…monsters” Nigo spat. He dropped the boxes with no concern for their contents.

“Nigo…” Charles warned “Please…I’m begging you my boy…” It was too little, too late. The men in white had grown restless.

“Enough whispering! Give us what we want! Now!” yelled the leader, smashing the counter to pieces with his club. The other men began smashing everything around them. Display cases filled with books and shoes of every shape and size, sewing equipment, and the boxes that lined the walls were all obliterated. Nothing was safe from their wrath.

“No! Please stop!” Charles begged.

Nigo couldn’t take it anymore; he couldn’t watch these monsters destroy his home. Not again. The last straw was when leader grabbed Charles by the collar. Nigo, in a fit of blind rage, drop-kicked the poor bastard, launching him out the door and into the street. The others stopped what they were doing, staring at the young man who beat the crap out of their leader.

“Anyone else?” Nigo taunted. And as the words left his mouth, he truly wished they hadn’t; for when they did, all the soldiers charged at him, their eyes glazed over with rage. The first one rushed over to him, a baseball-bat raised to strike. Negro swiped the man’s legs out from under him, causing him to fall on his back. He then raised his leg above the man’s torso, and brought it down hard, his heel striking his sternum.

Another came up behind him, holding a gun to Nigo’s head. He ducked, only just missing the bullet. He pushed the man’s gun arm out of the way with one arm, and pushed the man back with his other. He then pulled out a small black cylinder from out of his coat pocket. It extended into a 1’ dagger. He turned and slashed one of the men in the arm with the blade. The wound didn’t look to bad, but it hurt enough to cause him to howl in pain. This bought Nigo the time he needed to -literally- kick him out of the store.

It seemed that each time he got rid of one of the soldiers, another would come and take their place, like a hydra with stubbornness issues. One of these men snuck up behind him with a bone saw held up in the air, ready to strike. Negro turned and pulled out a second black cylinder, which quickly turned into a pistol. The hammer went down on the mechanism and the dust within the barrel ignited, launching the small burst of energy straight at the goon. It struck him square in the chest, launching him backwards.

He pulled out another small blade concealed within his jacket at the nearest man in white, gashing his face. As more and more of these goons came towards him, he pulled out more and more knives, his arms a blur of silver. Each one of these knives had different lengths, some serrated, others thin, yet lethal. He cut the men to pieces, blood spilling from cheeks and arms. Several more minutes of furious slashing passed before almost all the men fell, either unconscious, or too exhausted to fight any longer. One final soldier came at him, wielding a baseball bat. The young man simply pulled out his pistol and fired, blowing the metal bar to pieces.

However, while Negro was distracted by these foot soldiers, Charles was left undefended. The leader had snuck back into the store while Nigo was busy fighting his goons, and found the man hiding behind the counter. And as Nigo was looking down at all his fallen foes, a single gunshot rang out. He spun around to see the leader pointing a smoking gun down at the space underneath the desk. Nigo’s jaw fell slack in shock. He ran at the man in a blind rage, knocking the gun out of his hand, and pinning him down. He raised his own pistol to the man’s forehead, readying the trigger… but could not bring himself to pull it. Instead, he just kicked the man’s face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious.

A groan of pain from his left told Nigo that his surrogate father was still alive. He ran to him and noticed that the bullet hadn’t killed him, but did leave him mortally wounded. He put his hand against the bullet wound to stop the bleeding as much as he could.

“No no no…no Charley! You can’t die…oh God….” Nigo whispered in terror.

“Negro…my son…come closer…I must…tell you…” The old man’s voice trailed off. Nigo leaned in next to his dying friend, listening closely to his final words. His eyes slowly widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Charles was done, he placed his hand on Negro’s cheek, and gently caressed it.

“My son…you have been blessed with amazing gifts…do not squander them…. Never lose that wonderful smile you have. I want you to know that…I….” Perrault gasped out, before going limp in the boy’s arms.

“Charles��? Charles!” Nigo started crying out. “Dad! Please! Wake up damn it!” Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. Pure melancholy filled his heart and sent a cold chill down his spine.

He had lost everything that was dear to him, his home, his family, and his happiness.

The worst part was that this had happened once before.

Jade. Indigo. Negro. T.

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #rwby oc fanfiction #rwby oc #fanfiction update #fanfiction rough draft #please leave criticism

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saberdoesthestars · 8 years ago

Photo

Binocular Stargazing

Stephen Saber

Stargazing can be enjoyed using any binocular. It can be enjoyed even more with binoculars when fully dark-adapted and viewing from a moonless site far from any city lights. The following is a collection of my thoughts on choosing and using binoculars for stargazing, some reviews, and 150 doublestars to enjoy. A wealth of deepsky targets suitable for binos can be found in the Astronomical League Observe Program lists.

First, an important warning:

DO NOT EVER LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE SUN, EITHER WITH YOUR UNAIDED EYE OR THROUGH A TELESCOPE OR BINOCULARS, UNTIL YOU ARE THOROUGHLY FAMILIAR WITH THE SAFE METHODS OF OBSERVING THE SUN. DO NOT EVER LEAVE A TELESCOPE OR BINOCULAR UNATTENDED SO THAT A CHILD COULD POINT IT AT THE SUN. PERMANENT EYE DAMAGE OR BLINDNESS COULD RESULT.

*****

Among other factors, choosing binoculars is about trade offs between magnification, aperture, weight, field of view, eye relief, coatings, and price. Personal preferences are as individual as our eyesight. Go with the binos that satisfy the most important of your own preferences in these areas.

Choosing a size is literally a matter of desired perspective. Various powers and fields shed new light and aesthetics to our celestial treasures. Different instruments for different moods. Several years ago I had the opportunity to view the night sky thru 2.5x opera glasses. IIRC, the FOV was 20-25°. Felt more like bionic-vision than bino-vision. Quite an interesting experience. Saturn and the lunar detail seen at 30x is always equally as compelling.

10x50s are a recommended first binocular for stargazing. It is the highest magnification that most can hold relatively steady without a tripod while still providing a comfortably large field of view and exit pupil. If buying for a child I would suggest a smaller, lighter 7×35 or 8×40.

I’ve had a good track record and would recommend ordering from major online dealers such as Orion, Garrett, and Oberwerks, but buying locally or driving to avoid shipping mishaps is always preferable. Good communication and a solid return policy are marks of a reputable online dealer. Outdoors and hunting supply stores have been known to carry a decent variety of quality instruments. As with scopes, starparties are also a great place to try out and ask about a variety of binoculars. The local astroclub may even have some renters to audition.

SPEAKING OF AUDITIONING BINOCULARS:

SHAKE IT Make sure nothing is loose or bouncing around inside.

LOOK AT IT Make sure there are no scratches or cracks on the glass or body. At arm’s length, look for round, unobstructed circles of light thru the barrels and eyepieces. Quality BAK4 glass is recommended. Is there a center-focus adjustment? Are they tripod-adaptable if needed?

MESS WITH IT Make sure the caps are tight. Make sure the main hinge, focuser, and other adjustments all move smoothly, securely, and with no play.

NOW, LOOK THRU IT If there’s a right diopter dial, close your right eye. Use the center-focus dial for your left eye. Now close your left eye. Use the diopter to focus the right eye. Can you move the hinge to create a nice, circular image? Can you see the entire field comfortably? Does the image bulge-out or bend-in excessively at the edges? A flat, focused image across most of the field is best. Is there excessive false color in the field of view. For handheld use, will you be able to hold the image fairly steady for minutes at a time? Are the barrels properly aligned? Slowly alternate closing and opening each eye. The image should merge smoothly.

ASK ABOUT IT Make sure there is a satisfactory guarantee and return policy.

Any binocular that passes these tests to your approval should provide an enjoyable ride under the stars.

*****

CONGRATS ON THE NEW GLASS

Okay, Saber. I’m dark-adapted in the middle of a moonless cornfield away from city lights with my new 10×50. Now what?

Fortunately you read this ahead of time and brought a red flashlight, S&T’s Pocket Sky Atlas or a planisphere, Harrington’s Touring the Universe through Binoculars or printouts from the AL bino target lists linked above, a blanket or recliner, bug spray or extra clothes, and maybe a sketchpad and pen. Or forget all that and just randomly cruise the night sky at your leisure. There is no wrong way to enjoy the stars. Note: It’s always a good idea to bring something else along that’s unique to stargazing. I once had a lengthy encounter (more lengthy than usual anyway) with the Illinois State Police while getting ‘back to basics’ in the boonies armed with only an 8×40. On this occasion, without even a star atlas or red flashlight to lend credibility, they had a very hard time believing I was simply stargazing. That I look more like a convict than a cosmologist didn’t help matters. But they eventually decided there were no houses close enough for me to be planning any pillaging or plundering, and left me to my claimed business with the stars.

*****

BEFORE WE GO ON

Receiving any collimated, mechanically-sound binocular with sufficient eye relief/ipd/diopter adjustment while showing minimal false color and pinpoint stars across 75% of the field rates as a very good purchase. There’s no shame in returning an instrument that doesn’t meet these basic requirements. Even though some companies inspect and pack their products better than others, we always roll the dice when mail ordering precision optics. Fortunately the odds are on our side. Of my 25+ online bino purchases only 2 have been untweakable returns. I should also mention that the world of binoculars, in actual use, is far from an exact science. Specification and mechanical variances are common, even among the same models. Bino experiences and assessments also vary with the individual and visual acuity. In short, try not to let the quest for a perfect binocular take precedence over your enjoyment of the night sky. Keep this in mind as we dig a little deeper.

*****

MAGNIFICATION/SIZE/FIELD

With binoculars, magnification has a much higher performance emphasis than aperture. The preferred AVI (Adler Visibility Index: Mag X Sq. Root of Aperture) yields the following values:

7×35 40 8×40 50 7×50 50 10×50 70 10×70 85 12×50 85 15×70 125 15×80 135 20×70 165 20×80 180 25×80 225 25×100 250 30×80 270 30×100 300

From this basic list of sizes we see that while a darker sky can easily compensate for 10-20mm of aperture, it barely competes with an instrument offering a 5x larger image scale.

More magnification = More stars, less field, less steady for handheld use. Less magnification = Fewer stars, more field, more steady for handheld use.

Darker sky = Many more stars. This is also important to remember as we cannot take advantage of any binocular’s full aperture until our pupils dark adapt and open to at least match the bino’s exit pupil (aperture/mag).

*****

BANGIN OFF A THE BRICKS

A brick wall can tell us alot about our binoculars. Preferably mounted and from at least the minimum focus distance, a bino’s magnification and degree of major aberrations can all be quickly field tested against this common building pattern.

Magnification

To estimate an instrument’s actual magnification, look through the left ocular with your right eye (or vice versa) while keeping both eyes open. The magnified view will be superimposed with the unaided view. Count the number of 1x bricks that traverse a single magnified brick. +/-0.5- 1.0x variances are not uncommon.

Aberrations

Spherical: Softness over entire field. None of the image will not come to a crisp focus.

Astigmatism: Horizontal lines will appear in focus and vertical lines out of focus, or vice versa.

Curvature: Periphery of field will appear in focus and center of field out of focus, or vice versa.

Coma: More noticable under the stars, the images show comet-like extensions increasing toward the periphery.

Distortion: Straight lines bend in toward the center of the image (positive/pincushion) or away from the center of the image (negative/barrel). Note: Minimal positive distortion at the edges is a good thing, and usually intentionally introduced. It helps sharpen up the inner field.

Chromatic: Images are blurred with false color at the fringes. In general, the higher the magnification, the more noticable the chromatic aberration.

Any excessive daytime aberration will also take its toll on the even more stringent proving grounds of the night sky.

*****

Eye relief and comfort at the eyepieces have always been the first dealmaker/breaker considerations with all of my bino purchases. I’ve auditioned several binos that, while wonderful in all other aspects, only offer an inaccessible 6-9mms of ER. Extraneous eye relief, OTOH, is a comparatively much easier issue to deal with. While eye placement can be more critical, extending the eyeguards or cups is usually all that is required. Most would agree that extra ER is preferable to not having enough.

Without eyeglasses a minimum useable eye relief (ER minus lens recess) of 10mm is recommended. Those who wear glasses often require at least 16mm to take in the entire field. There are a few more caring dealers that go so far as to relate the actual useable eye relief. Otherwise, the following rules of thumb tend to apply: No ER spec mentioned: Embarrassingly and/or painfully short. ER mentioned: Subtract 2-6mm for recess. ‘Long eye relief’ mentioned but not qualified: Roll the dice.

*****

Few binoculars are completely unaffected by false color on Luna and the brighter celestial targets. Outside of using expensive apo glass, chromatic aberration in binoculars tends to come with the fast f/r territory. Increased magnification generally amplifies any apparent CA.

Full multi-coatings (FMC) decrease internal reflections and increase night sky contrast. IME, this contrast also increases the appearance of CA on the bright stuff. Standard fully-coated (FC) binos often show less false color at the expense of increased internal reflections. As there are maybe a handful of celestial sources out of billions that might create offensive CA, most will opt for the reduced reflections and better contrast provided with FMC or MC (multi-coated) models.

*****

While a binocular’s exit pupil is not unimportant, it is often overrated. Darker skies, higher magnification, and superior AR coatings can all more than compensate for any loss of image brightness due to a smaller exit pupil. Larger exit pupils often have the advantage of more forgiving eye placement, but sufficient eye relief again plays an important role in the amount of vignette and attaining optimal eye position. Smaller ExPs also stop down eye pupil aberrations which commonly increase toward the periphery.

City vs Rural

Binos gulp in lots of skyglow along with the stars from the city which wreaks havoc on our pupils’ dilation and dark adaptation. Smaller exit pupils will stop down the magnified peripheral skyglow which at least gives our cones a better signal to noise ratio for detecting detail, but any build up of rhodopsin is still largely inhibited. After scanning the bright city skies most have lowered their binocular to find a naked eye circular field of bleached rhodopsin waiting for them (or in one eye after viewing at the scope). Closing our eyes to get a semblance of decent DA back is futile as any rhodopsin build up will scatter soon after we raise the bino to start another round. That we’re not also fighting our own physiology is why dark skies provide us with a dramatic increase in detection above what might be academically expected.

3-5mm exit pupils are fine from any LVM. Try 5mms and up from very dark sites for better performance. Even if the nok’s ExP exceeds our own under rural skies, the unused incoming light is at least not detrimental- and even allows more room to maneuver behind the eyepieces.

*****

One should expect a mechanically sound and collimated mail order binocular whether they’ve paid 500 dollars or 50 dollars. Unless you’re an accomplished tinkerer, attempting a DIY prism alignment via the tiny adjustment screws also runs the risk of voiding any warranty by accidentally scratching or otherwise damaging the instrument. There’s also the possibility that the prisms are fine, but the barrels are poorly aligned. Mail order and precision optics will never mix, but my advice is to return the binocular when possible and ask for overnight shipping on a properly inspected model.

*****

I’m not a big tripod fan, but it is a necessary evil for getting the steadiest views and detail from any binocular. Mounted binos also allow increased resolution and detection of targets as much as 2 magnitudes fainter than those seen in freehand views.

For handheld use one can create a human tripod by resting both elbows on a support (car, railing, etc.). Some find more braced stability when using heavier instruments. Observing prone or in a recliner is often recommended. Holding big binos closer to the objectives can also provide more comfortable ergonomics.

*****

why binoculars…

It’s the grab n’ go freedom and wide fields. It’s the increase in depth perception and signal strength (on-axis and peripheral). It’s the effortless navigation, straight thru viewing, and more natural extension of our own eyes. My first serious glass was a giant binocular. One would still be hard pressed to find me basking under the stars without 80mm guns at my side.

what am I getting into with larger/hi-mag binoculars?

You’re getting into more weight/tripod use, less steady freehand views, less field, and possibly more obvious CA (amplified by magnification). Fortunately this all takes a back seat to the increase in resolution, detail, and exponential bombardment of stars.

10x vs 15x…

For stargazing purposes I’d go so far as to say 15x70s are becoming the new 10x50s- especially in light polluted skies. Certainly a popular next step up. 15x can be a shaky ride, but not beyond some measure of adaptation. The case could be made that 15s show so much more that we want/need to see it even steadier. Apparent shake at higher mags is also amplified by the smaller fov. With practice freehanded stability with 15x70s is not beyond a good deal of improvement, but tripod-mounted (or image stabilized) noks will always offer the best views at any power.

dealing with dew…

Storing binoculars in a secure garage or vehicle has been my best dew prevention. The less change in temperature they have to endure, the better. Or simply buy more binos. Maybe tool around with a different power/fov while the other bino defrosts.

saturn thru binos…

I’ve seen the ring gaps thru 10s and 15s at favorable inclinations. Not what I’d call a crisp image, though. At 25x I start looking (in vain) for Cassini’s. Oohs and ahhs from the public thru 30s, plus Saturn’s four brightest moons on a good night.

‘ruby’ coatings…

Not recommended under the stars and not to be confused with anti-reflective (AR) coatings. This gimmick reduces daytime glare by filtering the red spectrum- which only provides darker, dull images at night.

nokking venus…

Magnifications necessary to show the phases of Venus can change rapidly. While 30x will reveal the phase at most any aspect, the thin but large crescent’s orientation near inferior conjunction can be detected naked eye. Glare and bad seeing are minimized by catching our sister planet at its highest elevation in the daytime sky.

why dangle…

WA (wide angle) models are always desirable, provided the extra field is free from excessive aberration and sufficient ER allows access to the full field.

galaxies thru binoculars…

Hunting most galaxies with binos is limited to being an exercise in detection and judge of sky conditions. Yet I still find the repeated mere validation of their continued presence through modest glass to be an amazing aphrodisiac. At the other size extreme, dark site excursions through the thick arms of our Milky Way and across the Big and Little Magellanics are binocular nirvana.

on zoom binos…

Not recommended for those primarily interested viewing the night sky. Fixed-power binoculars (up to ~20x) offer up to a 50% wider view than zoom binoculars set to the same magnification. Decreased optical precision due to the difficulty of keeping the zoom elements of each eyepiece in perfect syncronization, and difficulty to handhold at higher magnification are other disadvantages.

jove thru binos…

I’ve detected the two main bands at 15x at larger oppositions. Much more obvious at 20x. At 25x, band asymmetries are often detected. At 30x I have detected the SEB break occupied by the GRS (no detail).

if vs cf…

Individual focus designs do not use a focuser bridge and are ideally less prone to defocus when we press against them. IFs also provide better waterproofing. A personal preference to stargazers aimed at infinity, but not a popular choice for various and repetitive distance refocusing during daytime use. A majority find center focus/diopter focusing to be adequate and most convenient.

binocular/bv summation…

While no formula can cover the additional physiological gains of using both eyes, an effective aperture increase of 140% is a good place to start (e.g., 70mm noks rival 100mm scopes). Binoviewers, for all their wonder, cut the EA in half before a summation formula is applied, resulting in appreciable light loss thru apertures under 8″.

spec vs effective aperture…

Manufacturers love to skimp on prism size to cut production costs. This generally reduces effective apertures by 5-10% which also tweaks other specs like mag and fov. Lay your bino flat on a table or mount pointed several inches from a wall. Shine a flashlight thru an eyepiece and measure the projected circle of light to find the noks effective aperture. I’ve yet to meet an effective aperture that hasn’t been ’rounded up’ to the advertised diameter.

getting into the (handheld) zone…

The best way to steadily hold your binocular is another subjective preference, and may vary by size, weight, and ergonomics of the instrument. But more important is the time and experimentation one puts into reaching their own acceptable stability. Striving for handheld stability is also excellent precision exercise for the eyes. Getting in the ‘heartbeat-limited’ zone takes patience and practice, but many can eventually become capable of useable, detailed stability almost out of the gate. Darker skies (more stars) are again recommended here for the increased reference points to accelerate coordination.

hi-mags for steadier views…

Freehanding the stars with 20x (or higher) binoculars takes practice and patience to keep the views even marginally worthwhile. In the end, alot depends on how much stability we’re willing to sacrifice. The point is that we can and do get better at it as the thousands of coordinating neurons and fast twitch muscles involved adapt.

In addition, the more intense eye/brain/reflex ‘training’ at higher magnifications can also pay off when gearing down to freehand views at lower power (IS binos excluded). One of many reinforcing experiences with this happened just a few nights ago. After about an hour of casually picking off Messiers with a 20×80 I went back to my vehicle to warm up and wait for the sky to turn. A Marathon-virgin 11×56 was in arm’s reach and I decided to revisit my accumulated treasures with the more modest but eager glass. Excellent wider field views aside, the relative image steadiness now rated just this side of mounted (caffeine and below zero wind chill notwithstanding). The increased handheld stability was notably more than just that which might be expected. Whether this effect is initially only perceived or enhanced by experience and adapted skill, it seems IME an exercise worthy of merit for increasing stability with more commonly handheld magnifications. (Even 15x views become easier to steady after roadtripping with 25-30x noks for awhile.)

A loose analogy to this hi-mag training might be taking practice swings on deck with a ring-weighted baseball bat. Spend 20 minutes or so with a hi-mag nok in a/your favored braced position on a big, busy target (Luna and Pleiades work well) before dropping down in power. The actual physical/coordinative gains are cumulative, but even the expected stability difference can be enhanced out of the gate.

Another good reason to buy that first hi-mag binocular as well.

*as always ymmv*

for those unaware…

There’s more to binocular alignment than prism screws. The machining and matching grooves of the barrels must also be precise (and the objective itself for that matter). The angle tolerance of the barrels can be even more strict than those of the prisms. I cite a recent example of a friend, fed up from tinkering with his bino’s prism screws, who gave me his non-refundable 20×80 stating, ”If you can fix em, you can have em”. The dizzying view was indeed so far out of alignment that it soon proved to be beyond the screws’ adjustment capabilities. I had another of my 80mm noks nearby and swapped barrels with the troublemaker. The image merged perfectly. Only one of the barrels was bad. The donor 80mm, however, was throwing a fit over its painful, unexpected handicap. My solution? Spinning both 70mm barrels from one of my more expendable 15x instruments onto the former 20x troublemaker. Again, the image merged perfectly, and I have a light-weight hybrid 20×70 for my efforts. Of note, the three binos mentioned are all different brands yet compatible at the hip. Also, there are limits to barrel-swapping on a number of fronts (which I plan on exploring) that in this case were not exceeded. The moral of the story is simply that binocular misalignment is not always in the prisms. Another good justification for keeping a well-stocked arsenal of binoculars, too.

the c word revisited…

If cranking the prism screws more than half a rotation either way doesn’t solve an alignment problem, I’d start looking somewhere else. Recently I found another related potential culprit in the crossbracing assembly of applicable models (ironically the feature intended to reinforce proper collimation). A simple thing really. It’s the brace’s bolt connecting the objectives. If it’s loose or not tightened at the barrels’ optimal distance the binocular loses collimation. In my case it was a fairly easy fix. When the bolt is loose/loosened it allows some play between the fat ends. Gently pushing them in or out while viewing will show whether the objectives (hopefully only laterally) need to be locked closer or farther apart. Note: check that the connector at the bar’s other end is also secure. FWIW, this 80mm nok, purchased from one of the big 3 for $189, attained conditional alignment with the barrels locked 30mm apart. It’s a good bet that the bargain priced counterparts are at least as susceptible.

I’m not especially advocating this repair approach. In fact, I recommend sending such an instrument back and asking for a properly inspected model to be mailed asap with free overnight shipping. But in this case it was a quick fix, the bino remains aligned, the song remains the same, and we have another fun insight into the wonderful world of miscollimation.

one person’s miscollimation is another’s elation…

I remember one starparty visitor who brought his own 7×50 binocular which he insisted was easily revealing the four separate main component stars of Orion’s Trapezium (a feat requiring the visual acuity of the Bionic Woman). A suspicion was confirmed as I looked through the horribly misaligned barrels. Everything had separate components. The kaleidescopic view made me nauseous, but the excited man was perfectly content to continue with his ‘bonus’ abundance of stars.

quickie field conversions…

ft/1000yds:

example: 262 = 5.0° TFOV (ft divided by 52.5)

m/1000m:

example: 88 = 5.0° TFOV (m divided by 17.5)

*****

SELECTED BINOCULAR REVIEWS

Garrett Optical 20×80 UL

The Zach Attack 20×80 UL exudes both quality and elegance. One would also be hard pressed to find better packaging for their mail orders. High marks for smooth, secure mechanics and excellent field sharpness. Unbridled from its pedestal, these 80mm stallions also make for a sweet ride during casual freehand excursions.

[My fetish for freehanding big glass often gets the better of me. Mounting (or using image-stabilized) binoculars is always recommended for the steadiest image, especially at higher magnifications]

I did find two notable spec discrepancies that may or may not be specimen specific; The listed TFOV (3.2 deg) and ER (16mm) respectively measured closer to 3.0 deg and 14mm. Neither variances were dealbreakers for me.

Fast shipping and GO’s personal service accentuated this satisfying $179 transaction.

Oberwerk 20×80 Standard (vs GO 20x80UL)

Dead heat with the GO 20x80UL for performance, mechanics, FOV/ER (both still shy of spec), and coatings. I found this interesting as the two *look* very different. At 15″/38cm, the Obie is some 3″ longer with a leaner appearance. The increased length changes the ergonomics noticably but not detrimentally. After adjusting my hand placement along the barrels I find the two equally comfortable for handheld use. Also despite the longer focal length, both binoculars show comparable field sharpness (85-90%) and daytime/lunar chromatic aberration (not fatal, but present).

Both models are highly recommended.

*****

Orion 30×80 MegaView

Out of the box, as expected, the 30s are physically very similar to Orion’s 16×80 with a couple of exceptions. The slightly heavier weight (just under 6 lbs.) is a product of the center rod bracing the bino lengthwise, along with the adjustable captive weight-balancing pedestal that couples directly to a tripod. Another elegant and functional addition are the extendable thick rubber dewshields at the end of each barrel. Even when retracted they make for excellent bumpers to protect the objectives while bringing the total outside barrel diameters to 92mms. Deploying the dewshields also takes the full height of the formidable and solidly constructed instrument to 14 inches. The trademark leather-textured surface of the main body complements an efficient and attractive all black design. The supplied hard case is nice, but the MegaView and I would feel more secure with a thick, foam-lined aluminum case to protect its crucial collimation during transport. While the snug fit of all four eyecaps was a plus, I wouldn’t trust the suprisingly thin neckstrap provided with supporting the bino’s substantial bulk. (These token neckstraps are thrown in for completeness’ sake. Very few people would enjoy being repeatedly jabbed in the chest with that pedestal.)

The fully-multicoated instrument reflects deep blues and greens at the business ends and yields the perfect circles of an unobstructed light path at the lenses. The hinge, center-focus, and diopter all adjusted smoothly, securely, and with no play. I’ve actually come to expect this from Orion. I now own four of their binos and, if not top-of-the-line optically, their consistant mechanical quality has been very commendable. The good-sized 20mm eyepiece lenses also sport 14mms of eye relief. This is close to ideal for me, although probably a bit short for eyeglass wearers to take in the entire field.

I’m a nitpicker for collimation, and 30x binos leave little room for error, especially after a 3-day FedEx journey. So I was immensely relieved to receive these MegaViews in fine alignment. Aberration tests did reveal slight but noticable pincushioning across an otherwise very sharp (to about 80%) field. There was an expected and substantial amount of false color on high-contrast daytime objects and our moon attributed to the high magnification (for 5 bills it’d be nice if they’d spring for some apo lenses), but it was no more offensive than the inherent chromatic aberration found in some comparably fast 80mm short-tube scopes at lower powers. And for me the CA took a backseat to the increased resolution, wealth of additional stars, and depth of detail seen on Luna under the night sky.

The 50% jump in magnification from 20 to 30x seems even more significant than that noticed between 10 and 15x power binoculars. Catching our moon at the right illumination, Clavius’ arched quintet of inner craters are obvious and distinct. Orion’s Trapezium splits cleanly and effortlessly into its 4 major components and, while Cassini’s seems just out of reach, a well-resolved Saturn presents a crisp disc and ring system. Jupiter’s main belts are prominent and on the verge of showing structure. Despite their relatively small 2.7mm exit pupil and Luna’s gibbous interference, the MegaViews still gathered a respectable conglomeration of stars while previewing the Double Cluster, Pleiades, M46/47, the Auriga clusters, and M35. I eagerly anticipate watching them gobble up these treasures and more under a dark sky and plan on letting them run wild thru a moonless Messier Marathon this spring. Upon receiving their Solar filters, I’m also looking forward to my enhanced views of our sun’s daily activity. While the 30x80s are advertised as having a 2.3 degree field, I could almost- but not quite- squeeze Orion’s belt stars within the fieldstop yielding a more accurate and happily accepted 2.5 degree field. This yields an AFOV of 75° and is indeed one of the widest views I’ve experienced. The porthole effect reminds me of Naglervision (albeit without the superior field edge sharpness). A tripod is, of course, required for unwavering views with this instrument. Any generic but heavy-duty model should work fine. My ProMaster 6600 bought at a local camera store provides more than sufficient support.

First Impressions verdict: Four out of five stars. While pricey, they are only $20 more than the 15x80MVs, solidly built, mechanically excellent, and ready to mount without an adapter. The beneficial and protective extendable dewshields are a welcome feature. It loses points for heavy CA on Luna, Jupiter and the brightest stars. But aside from the lack of color correction on those targets, the 30×80 MegaViews give rewarding and impressive binocular views of our moon, brighter planets, and the many Messier-class nightsky treasures.

*****

Glass At A Glance: Pentax 20×60 PCF WPII

$169 from amazon.com instrument arrived promptly, well-packaged, mechanically sound, and in fine collimation

bak4/fmc/no light path interference dimensions 9.0×7.75″ weight 45oz/1275grams ipd 57-72mm/ lens diameter 18mm center focus/clickstop diopter exit pupil 3.0mm eye relief 18mm useable min focus 8m spiral clickstop eye relief adj no eyeguards nitrogen filled/weather resistant very sturdy construction sleek black rubber armored housing

tfov 2.4° (spec 2.2°) field sharp to 95+% [comparable to orion 15×63 mini-giants] minimal positive distortion afov 44° (spec) afov 48° (adj) restricted but not necessarily a dealbreaker. no serious tunnelvision, but more than i’m used to. false color: present but minimal ergonomics: easily handheld for casual obs (tripod is always recommended for steadiest views)

purchase motivations: compulsive interest comparison to 20x80s

notes: the obie 20×80 std trumps the pentax in tfov/afov/depth of field and image brightness. the pentax 20×60 has the edge in overall field sharpness and color correction along with being much smaller and lighter. the plentiful ER is overkill to take in the smaller fieldstop perimeter but i doubt any eyeglass wearers would complain.

tip of the day: WP noks may be WP on the inside, but the outside surfaces are still at the mercy of fog and condensation. storage in a secure garage or vehicle is recommended to keep all optics as close as possible to ambient temps and humidity

bottom line: five star transaction and instrument highly recommended with caveat of potentially restrictive tfov/afov

*as always, ymmv*

*****

Minolta 8×40 Activa WP

Cruising the net for a quality complementary wide field instrument led me to this $110 gem from the Minds of Minolta. With BAK4 prisms and longer eye relief, the fully multicoated and weatherproof Activa series is an impressive upgrade from their venerable Deluxe (Classic) line of binoculars.

Out of the box, the all black rubber-armored Minolta is a class act, including a very nice soft-lined case and deluxe neckstrap. Weighing in at a well-balanced 27oz., it first reminded me of a less bulky and more ergonomic version of the Orion UltraView. The Activa’s hinge, focus, and diopter adjustment (which lightly clicks into place at small increments) is smooth and secure. The caps also all fit securely. A single cover takes the place of dual lens caps. In lieu of roll-back eyeguards, the Activa is equipped with soft rubber twist-lock eyecups to customize eye relief. Rather than spiraling freely, the eyecups again securely click into place over four incremental positions. Very handy. I’m not a big fan of optics being shipped in a thin layer of styrofoam peanuts, but the Activa and its collimation managed to survive the UPS journey unscathed. The very bright and vivid daytime, stellar, and Lunar images show negligable false color across nearly the entire 8.2° (spec and measured) field of view. Only the slightest pincushioning was detected over an otherwise very sharp (to 85%) field. Noticable prism interference at the exit pupils is limited to a slight diagonal flattening at 1 o’clock (L) and 11 o’clock ®. While the eye relief is long (spec states 18.5mm), the moderate lens recess tweaks the usable ER closer to 16mm. Wearing thin sunglasses I could still comfortably take in the entire field stop with the twist-locks fully retracted. A generous 22mm lens diameter, interpupilary range of 58-72mm, and plenty of room to gaze around the field contributes to the comfortable eygernomics. In addition, I find the 65° apparent FOV very acceptable and immune to any tunnelvision. Those in the market for a full featured, well-constructed, and sharp looking binocular under $150 will not be disappointed.

UNDER THE STARS

I spent an enjoyable 2 ½ hours breaking in the 8×40 under mag 5 skies, running the latter third of the marathon Messiers and brighter NGCs. Early impressive observations of note included the Coma cluster, Messiers 3, 5, 13, 12, 10, 4, ic4665, ngc6633, and doublestars alphaLib, epsilonLyr, nuDra, and omicronCyg. A very pleasing tour through the Summer Triangle was highlighted by Cr399, M27, and hints of the North American and Veil nebulae. A slow, climactic cruise down the Sagittarius Arm’s main drag followed through Messiers 11, 26, 16, 17, 18, 24, 23, 25, 21, 20, 8, 7, and 6. All were easily identified, resolved to various degrees, and found flowing over the expanse of about 3 binocular fields. The Messier cottonball globulars 22, 55, 15, and 2 also stood out beyond simple detection. Uranus and Neptune were also spotted about a degree from, respectively, 4th magnitude suns lambdaAqr and iotaCap. The gas giants soon ushered in our waning crescent moon in close conjunction with Mars. A handful of satellites and a couple of stray meteors also joined this session’s festivities. After a northeast sweep thru the rising stars of Cassiopeia and a low, early season preview of M31, the Minolta and I called it a night. Generously rating the transparency 8/10, the Messier globs and OCs were all at least obvious while the dimmer galaxies and nebulae hid behind the early summer haze. As anticipated, the aesthetic context of a 8+° field and effortless starhopping was a fair compromise for the sacrificed brightness and resolution of my larger instruments. As a former obsessed fuzzy hunter and long-time big bino enthusiast, this 8x session made me realize how little time I spend seeing more of the celestial forest through the trees. Always refreshing to throw a different perspective into the mix. I would also recommend an 8×40 as an excellent first binocular for beginners learning their way around the night sky.

To sum it up: A small price for alot of field and alot of fun.

*****

Barska X-Trail 30×80

A Big Brown Truck arrived with my new toy earlier this week. Coddled in bubble-wrap within its hard-case, the 30x Barska survived the trip without a scratch and in fine collimation…

I could stop there as, for $139, my expectations had already been met. But as the audition progressed, I became increasingly pleased with the performance of these bargain Giants. So here we go.

Vital Stats

Max Dimensions: 13″x9″ Weight: 4.3 lbs. Min Focus: 49 ft. All black, streamlined, soft and smooth rubber housing. Extremely ergonomic and well-balanced. Aroma: Confidential (Sorry, Kenny.) Lifetime Limited Warranty

Mechanics: Hinge, focus, and diopter motion secure with no play. Caps all secure. Easy-to-adjust pedestal stays secure along center bar. BAK4 Prisms (round exit pupils, no light path interference). Coatings: MC. Despite various specs and speculation, the objectives do indeed present healthy bluish-green reflections thru its black-baffled barrels. Lens and prism paler blue reflections, however, indicate single-coatings on some surfaces. Optics (daytime): Very bright images. Moderate pincushioning. Very well color-corrected. Minimal off-focus purple fringing.

Eygernomics

FOV: 2.1° (spec) 2.2° (measured) AFOV: 63° (per spec) 66° (adj) F/FSR (Field to Field-Stop Ratio): Average. No tunnelvision, but not a spacewalk either. Field-stop is well-defined. Eye Relief: 10mm (spec) 9mm (useable. recess is slightly less than 2mm, and I’m feeling generous) Lens diameter: 20mm Exit Pupil: 2.7mm IPD: 58-72mm Comfort: Very good. Long, soft roll-back rubber eye cups. Vignette: Minimal. Eye positioning is more forgiving than expected.

My favored useable eye relief is in the 12-14mm range, so the Barska is tighter than I prefer (any less would be painfully tight). Not recommended for eyeglass wearers, I would estimate at least a 50% loss of field.

Under The Stars

Pinpoint star images out to 75% of field. Minimal violet fringing on Jupiter and Vega (substantially less CA than my $500 MegaView). Main Jovian bands are distinct, showing both color and hints of texture. Negligable false color at Luna’s limb; our waning gibbous moon is splendidly detailed.

Versus Orion 30x80MegaView

For another $350, the MV provides 4mm more eye relief and a significantly larger AFOV (fieldstop is nearly peripheral). These are two important qualities for me and worth the extra cost. YMMV. The MV also provides an additional .3° TFOV, and includes extendable dewshields. Except for the above, the sleek and lightweight Barska 30s not only challenge the heavier MV’s optics, mechanics, and quality build, but do so with better color correction (the trade-off, as expected, is increased internal reflections around the bright stuff).

Handheld Use

I spent ten straight minutes standing and another 30 on my back enjoying a relaxed freehand crawl across the available constellations. Very liberating. At just over 4 lbs, they simply do not feel like Giants.

Bino Forum edicts require me to reiterate that a tripod or IS is always recommended for more serious bino-target study. Following that, the Barska’s mounting requirements are minimal; any tripod rated for even 5 lbs will suffice.

Summary

Aside from an incurable giant bino fetish, I also wanted to occasionally share 30x binocular views with the public without putting my more valuable MV in harm’s way. The Barska X-Trail 30×80 will serve this purpose with flying colors. More bang for 139 bucks than I expected. If the MegaView drives like a Cadillac, then the Barska handles more like a sports car. Recommended with the caveat of potentially restrictive eye relief.

*****

Glass At A Glance: Oberwerk 11×56

$99 from bigbinoculars.com instrument arrived promptly, well-packaged, mechanically sound, and in fine collimation

bak4/ fmc/no light path interference height 7.75×8.0″/19.7×20.3cm weight 36oz/965grams ipd 56-72mm/ lens diameter 20mm center focus/diopter exit pupil 5.1mm eye relief 17mm useable min focus ~10m soft rollback eyeguards

tfov 6.1° (spec 6.0) field sharp to 85% coma free field 5.5° nominal positive distortion afov (spec) 66° afov (subj) v good. not a spacewalk but no tunnelvision. fieldstop is well-defined false color: present but minimal ergonomics: no complaints; it’s 11x at just over two lbs. easily handheld for casual obs. perhaps a bit large for children. as fortune would have it, the image scale and tfov fall about halfway between my 8s and 15s.

purchase motivations: compulsive interest additional outreach noks to pass around it was kevin’s turn to get my money

tip of the day: this bino only rates a soft case. with these cases i habitually cut and pop enough bubblewrap to surround the bino lengthwise before sliding it in the case for storage and transport (protection and keeps the caps on when taking it out)

bottom line: five star transaction and instrument highly recommended

*as always, ymmv*

*****

Barska 15×70 X-Trail: Big Bang For The Buck

I really didn’t need another binocular. I have plenty of binoculars, actually. Among them is a perfectly wonderful 30×80 Barska X-Trail. But I was ready to take one for the Forum team after reading a few recent Barska horror stories, and was fully prepared to pull a broken string of parts out of the box when my 15x70XT arrived.

I found the Barska 15s on sale at Amazon for $49 and haphazardly pulled the trigger. If this negligent, impulsive purchase wouldn’t get me a lemon then nothing would. *professional stuntman. do not try this at home* Three days later a big brown truck delivered another perfectly wonderful specimen. Well-packaged, collimated, and mechanically sound. Includes soft case, neckstrap, table tripod, adapter, and cleaning cloth. Looks great next to its 30x big brother, too.

Vital Stats

Max Dimensions: 11″x8.5″ Weight: 2.8 lbs Min Focus: ~50 ft Design: All black, streamlined, soft and smooth rubber housing. Ergonomic and well-balanced for its size. No center pedestal. Center focus. Prisms: BAK4 (round exit pupils, no light path interference). Coatings: Fully coated/light blue reflections at both ends

Optics (daytime): Very bright images. Very good color-correction across a flat, relatively wide FOV. Minimal pincushioning; it could actually use a little more. There’s a subtle center field softness compared to my instruments with higher positive distortion.

Eygernomics (measured)

FOV: 4.4° AFOV: 66° F/FSR (Field to Field-Stop Ratio): Very Good. No tunnelvision, but not a spacewalk either. Field-stop is well-defined. Lens diameter: 20mm Exit Pupil: 4.7mm IPD: 56-72mm Comfort: Very Good. Long, soft roll-back rubber eye cups. Eye Relief: 18.5mm (useable). Vignette: Minimal. However, without eyeglasses the eyeguards must be extended to achieve the proper viewing distance. I always leave the eyeguards extended anyway and take this in stride, but it may be more important to others.

Under The Stars

Pinpoint star images out to 80% of field. Negligable false color at Luna’s limb. Our waning gibbous moon is splendidly detailed and star colors are vivid. The Pleiades, Double Cluster, and Orion Nebula are beautifully framed.

Versus 15×63 Orion MG

I’m not quite comparing apples to apples here. Both have comparably long eye relief and pleasing eygernomics. Both also provide comparable brightness; the Barska’s extra aperture helps compensate for the Orion’s better coatings/contrast (the XT’s exit pupil is also a half-millimeter larger). The Orion is much lighter, more compact, and has the edge in ergonomics, while the larger and heavier Barska provides an extra .5° FOV. The Orion shows almost no internal reflections (FMC) but an increase in chromatic aberration on Luna and the brightest stars/planets. These trade-offs all come down to personal preference.

Handheld Use

Weighing-in at less than 3 lbs, I manually swept the night sky standing for a half-hour before even realizing that I’d manually swept the night sky standing for a half-hour. A very liberating and enjoyable ride.

The Barska’s mounting requirements are minimal; any tripod rated for even 5 lbs will suffice.

Summary

My best mid-power bino investment for the price. For those that can handle occasional internal reflections better than false color, I would easily consider the Barska 15x70XT as one of the best mid-power instruments available under $100. And a steal at $49.

Highly recommended with the standing caveat to buy from a reputable dealer that will personally check the mechanics and collimation prior to shipping. Buy and test locally if possible.

*****

[as good of place as any to put this. enjoy.]

Observing Under the Influence: The Apogee 18×50 Beer Bottle Telescope

I got the sweetest lil’ early stocking-stuffer for this Christmas. Apogee’s famed, novelty 18×50 BBT. I’m having a blast with it. The following may or may not be considered my review.

Vital Stats

Primary Mirror: 50mm Magnification: 18x (fixed) Focal Length, Ratio: 235mm, f/4.7 Max Dimensions: 8.5″ x 2.5″ Weight: 10 oz. Min Focus: 8 ft. Price: $21.95

Apogee Transaction Rating: 4/5. Prompt delivery and good communication. Despite arriving undamaged, the inner packing did not surround the product.

Out-Of-Box: Very nice heavy-nylon black case. Includes shoulder strap and cleaning cloth. The scope is green (I haven’t decided which shade yet), more rugged than expected, and, coincidentally, shaped like a beer bottle- including the eyelens cap which pops on and off. A dribble-hole along the main tube doubles as a quarter-inch adaptee for possible tripod mounting.

Coatings: Fully Coated optics (decent blue tint from each end).

Eygernomics: In this specimen, the field of view is a pleasantly-flat, correct-image 3.5°, and coma-free out to 75%. No on-axis astigmatism detected. Negligable false color. Nominal pincushioning. Exit pupil is 2.7mm. Apparent field is an adequate 63°; Fieldstop is sharp. No tunnelvision, but not a spacewalk either. But you have to get *to* the FOV first. I found the 5mm lens recess to yield a useable eye relief of about 5mm. In addition, the eyelens diameter is a mere 12mm. This inconvenience is only offset by the lack of an eyeguard and ability to shove the tapered neck right into your eyeball.

Ergonomics: About what you’d expect. It’s about as comfortable as holding an empty beer bottle up to your eye can be. Using both hands and adopting a Master and Commander pose is almost irresistable.

Will I Look Silly Using It: Not if you’re alone. At night. But seriously, most folks would probably just pity what would appear to be a pathetic drinking problem. Add an eyepatch (to view comfortably with both eyes open) and passersby might start charitably tossing coins at you as well.

Will I Feel Silly Using It: There’s a good possibility (“But I don’t wanna be a pirate…”). Using the BBT is kinda like owning a moped; fun to ride, but you don’t want your friends to see you with one.

Mechanics: The secure caps are made of hard plastic. The smooth and secure focusing is attained by rotating the top half of the bottleneck.

That’s about it for mechanics.

Nothing rattling around inside. The velcro on the cool, black case also performs admirably. Mounted on an EQ2, my only complaint was having to listen as my nearby StarMax was laughing its aperture off.

Storage: In its cool, black case. The mini-scope doesn’t match anything in the house. Did I mention the weird shade of green?

Viewing from a dark, transparent sky is, of course, recommended- and does alot to compensate for the lack of aperture and relatively small exit pupil. The BBT also tests ones true starhopping mettle. At 18x, it’s a shaky handheld ride until you put in some practice. I happen to love the challenge, and even plan on competing in next spring’s Marathon with it. Alone. Stay tuned.

For a $20 novelty astro-gift, the Apogee Beer Bottle Telescope actually has alot to offer as a practical stargazing instrument. I can only hope the already-suspicious Illinois State Police that frequent my favorite rural site show the same appreciation (after I’m forced to take a breathalyzer test).

Happy hunting, and Cheers.

*****

Kronos 26×70: Requiem for Eye Relief

An ongoing quest to discover more relatively lightweight and inexpensive high power binoculars led me to audition the Kronos 26×70. At $199, they will not break the bank. At 3.7 lbs (1.7 kg), they are certainly lightweight. Unfortunately, insufficient eye relief spoils an otherwise favorable test drive.

All black and all business, the Kronos’ leather-textured surface and design is very attractive. The enclosed certificate of authenticity and specs were written in Russian as well as English. Along with the Russian font on the casing, I imagined feeling quite comfortable using these on the deck of the Red October. I was mildly surprised that the 26×70 only rated a basic nylon case. Included was a somewhat undersized single-stem adapter that could be screwed onto a tripod at one end and clamped around the hinge at the other. But for mounted use I would probably opt for a standard steel L-adapter. On the plus side, all four protective lens caps kept a tight fit despite my semi-violent attempts to shake them loose. Mechanically, I gave this unit a split-decision. The hinge was quite rigid and reluctant to flex, while the individual focus on both eyepieces was somewhat slippery and unsecure. The bino’s objectives are multicoated, and gazing down the barrels reveal a pinkish-purple tint. Tight circles of an unobstructed light path greeted me at the lenses, but then, any prism interference would be an unforgivable design flaw with the already limited exit pupil. Perfectly merged terrestrial and stellar images showed the barrels to be in solid alignment. While I could make out the smallest cracks in neighboring chimneys, there was a substantial but not fatal degree of pincushioning. Chromatic aberration was very tolerable, with only minimal green and red boundaries seen around high-contrast objects and the available lunar crescent. The Kronos’ specs cite a 2.5 degree tfov, but I managed to squeeze Orion’s belt within the fieldstop, yielding a more accurate 2.7 degrees. Stars remain pinpoints across 85% of the field. Apparent field- by no means narrow- is still somewhat optimistic for the adjusted 70 deg quotient. A lack of full multcoatings is evident in the overall brighter background, but with the abundance of additional stars pulled in at 26x this is more easily forgiven. In the minority and/or acclimated from cutting my teeth on 6 lb. Orion Giants, I found the comparably lightweight Kronos’ to be an ergonomic handheld ride despite the high magnification (translation: 99% of the population will need a tripod). Luna is wonderfully large, sharp, and intricately detailed. Jove reveals two distinct and structured bands, while Saturn shows a tiny but crisp disc and ring system. I also did not find the relatively small 2.7mm ExP to be a hinderance. Astronomically, the forte of these noks is not to track down diffuse fuzzies, but rather to enhance resolution and detail on Luna, the planets, clusters, and globs. The Kronos does this well. Although I don’t wear glasses, I still prefer a generous amount of eye relief. Listed at 9mm, I was more wary of the actual usable ER. It was a bad gamble. First, the lenses are recessed about 2 millimeters. In addition, the stubby eyeguards extend 6mms and cannot be rolled back. In other words, they were too short to be very useful at blocking peripheral light but long enough to decrease the already short ER. By masochistically wedging the eyepieces into my sockets I could take in the entire field stop. Comfortably and without brushing my eyelashes on the lens I could see maybe a third of the total field. I had thoughts of removing the eyeguards and replacing them with winged models, but ultimately felt the lack of ER would be a constant source of frustration. This was unfortunate as I was otherwise pleased with the Kronos’ performance, weight, and price. With even 10-12mms of eye relief, however, the Russian Giants would’ve been keepers. But as they say, Вы не можете выиграть все их (you can’t win ’em all).

*****

Glass At A Glance: Orion Giant View 25×100

$349 from telescopes.com instrument arrived promptly, well-packaged, mechanically sound, and in fine collimation aluminum case for transport bak4/ fmc. orion does not skimp on coatings- there is barely any reflection at the business ends. height 17.1 in weight 10.1 lbs individual focus/integral mounting post exit pupil 4 mm ipd 61-72mm eye relief 17 luxurious useable mms. i’m happiest with 12-14mms of UER plus a few more to take advantage of leaving the eyeguards out to block peripheral light. the orion does not disappoint. the large 20mm eyelens diameters contribute to the excellent viewing experience. editorial: i pay to see the field stop, even if the outer fov is just for context. those designing noks with 9 or less mms of ER should be subjected to viewing the fieldstop regardless of ocular bone damage or disfigurement. i keep imagining a think-tank of designers intentionally ignoring every new models’ ER specs and, for entertainment purposes, creating a betting pool as to the final distance outcomes (“okay boys! who had 11mms?”). close focus 100 ft soft rollback eyeguards tfov 2.5° (spec ) field sharp to 80% coma free field 2.0° nominal positive distortion afov (spec) 63° afov (subj) v good. not a spacewalk but a substantial view relative to the limited tfov. fieldstop is well-defined false color: present but minimal ergonomics: braced on my elbows-tripod or reclined, the increased weight actually serves to help stability when held near the objectives. (a heavy-duty tripod is required for best detection and detail) purchase motivations: giant bino addicts must have at least one 100 mm horse in their stable. it’s the law. high mag handheld training, especially as a warm-up session before powering down to lower mag noks. after spending 15-20 minutes with the 25×100- regardless of the actual physiological stability increase- views thru my 15s and 20s certainly feel lighter and seem steadier. often reaching ‘heartbeat-limited’ stability. bottom line: 10 lbs of heaven five star transaction and instrument highly recommended *as always, ymmv*

*****

Glass At A Glance: Zhumell 20×80

$99 from binoculars.com instrument arrived promptly, well-packaged, mechanically sound, and in fine collimation hard liner in leather case

bak4/fmc (spec). this specimen is a tongue-in-cheek fmc; multicoated obj/fully coated prisms and lens no light path interference height 13″x9″/33cmx23cm weight 4.4lbs/2.0kg ipd 56-72mm/ lens diameter 20mm exit pupil 4.0mm eye relief 16mm useable min focus ~20m center focus/pedestal/center brace soft rollback eyeguards

tfov 3.2° (spec 3.2°) field sharp to 75% coma free field 2.5° negligible positive distortion (just this side of neutral) afov (spec) 64° afov (subj) no tunnelvision but not as panoramic as spec might suggest. fieldstop is well-defined false color: present but minimal ergonomics: handholdable for casual use and hotdogging at star parties, but tripod is recommended (any standard camera/video tripod will suffice).

purchase motivations: see what all the fuss is about second Z20x80 subsequently purchased as donation to local astroclub’s rental program

tip of the day: along with ideally helping preserve collimation, the lengthwise bar on crossbraced models can be held as a vertical support for freehand viewing (sliding the pedestal all the way forward). the opposite hand steadies the horizontal and controls focus. the bar also makes a convenient carrying handle for out-of-case transport

bottom line: five star transaction/four star instrument recommended bang for the buck purchase weak afov and outer field sharpness compared to the obie and garrett counterparts but still qualifies as an adequate instrument for general stargazing.

*as always ymmv*

[note: the barska 20x80xt auditioned rates a nearly identical review. also see ‘a tale of four 20s’]

*****

Orion 15×63: A Mini-(Giant) Revelation

I’d lugged my 16x80s around for over 10 years. Freehand or mounted, I’d never given a second thought to their 5+ lb. mass. In fact, I’d always related the healthy bulk of these giants as a sign of their powerful optics and construction. So my first thought upon hefting the mere 41 ounces of the Mini-Giants from their hardcase was, “Are they serious?” They are. The relatively light weight is nicely balanced along an 8 3/8″ sleek and streamlined body. (Actually, the Mini-Giant series appears to be the revamped FMC big brothers to the popular Orion Scenix line of binoculars.) As advertised, they are easily hand-holdable for several minutes at a time. Although tripod-adaptable, I doubt I would ever have to use them mounted. Still suspicious, I thought there must be some trade-off (specifically, prism interference) to this contoured design. But there was none. Full circles of light greeted me at the lenses and not a millimeter of obstruction was present while gazing down the black-baffled barrels. The hinge, focuser, and diopter adjustments all moved smoothly and securely with no play, and, although I’m very sensitive to collimation, I still slowly alternated closing and opening each eye to find the merged image in perfect alignment. Aberration tests also showed no excessive pincushion or barrel-effect across the 3.9° (measured) field, and color-correction is confined to minimal slivers of green and red on high-contrast daytime objects and Luna. I’ve never put too much faith in AFOV specs, and the MG is a good example why. A pleasantly wide apparent field belies the modest 58° (adj) quotient. Serious field distortion/coma is limited to the outer 5% of the field, and only really noticable if you go looking for it. There is no lunar ghosting, and our moon’s entire terminator is sharp with detail. The Orion Nebula, Pleiades, and Double Cluster are all amply framed with pinpoint star images. All very impressive. I just kept waiting for ‘the trade off’ and, aside from losing 17mm of aperture and half the weight of my 16x80s, found none. Also, as advertised, the Mini-Giants have plenty of eye relief (18mm useable). Highly recommended for eyeglass wearers. However, without glasses, the eyeguards must be extended to achieve the proper viewing distance without vignette. I always leave the eyeguards extended anyway, and can live with this, but it may be more important to others.

Again, I’d lugged my 16x80s around for over 10 years. They’ve been with me through 30 states, Canada, Mexico, and the Caribbean. They’ve witnessed many comets, occultations, and eclipses over their lifetime. Mounted, they’ve impressed hundreds of starparty guests and friends with their size, power, and optics. They rock. And I would never let them go. And they will always remain mounted near my scope for public viewing. And I’m not just saying this because they’re giving me the evil-eye while I’m writing this.

Nevertheless, in summary, I recommend the excellent optics and lightweight ergonomics of the Orion 15x63s (at around $200) as a competitively-priced alternative to many of the much heavier and tripod-dependent giant binoculars in this magnification range.

*****

150 Doublestars For Binoculars Stephen Saber

Given a magnified visual acuity of 150″ a 10x binocular will potentially split doublestars with separations as close as 15″ (150/10), and 5″ at 30x. Doubles with equal or near equal mags are easier to blackline than those with a significantly brighter glare from the primary. Color interpretations are often subjective for several reasons including sky conditions, color sensitivity, contrast effects, and aperture. Equally impressive in low power scopefields, this collection of brighter targets for northern observers is arranged by constellation and decreasing separation. Pocket Sky Atlas chart references are included.

Andromeda psa 2/3

56 0156+3715 5.7, 6.0 @ 190″ 59 0211+3902 6.5, 7.0 @ 16.6″ gamma 0204+4220 2.3, 5.5 @ 9.8″ stf79 0100+4443 6.0, 7.0 @ 7.8″

Aquarius psa 76

94 2319-1327 5.3, 7.3 @ 13″ 107 2346-1840 5.5, 6.5 @ 6.6″

Aquila psa 65/66/67

15 1905-0402 5.5, 7.2 @ 38″ 57 1955-0814 5.8, 6.5 @ 36″ stf2654 2015-0330 6.0, 7.5 @ 14.2″ 5 1847-0057 5.5, 7.5 @ 13″

Aries psa 4

30 0237+2439 6.6, 7.4 @ 38.6″ lambda 0158+2336 4.9, 7.7 @ 37″ gamma 0154+1918 4.8, 4.8 @ 7.8″

Auriga psa 12

stf698 0525+3451 6.5, 7.5 @ 31.2″ stf764 0541+2929 6.5, 7.0 @ 26″ 14 0515+3231 5.1, 7.4 @ 14.6″ stf872 0616+3609 6.9, 7.9 @ 11.3″ 41 0612+4843 5.0, 7.0 @ 7.7″ stf918 0634+5227 6.5, 7.5 @ 4.7″

Bootes psa 42/44/53

mu 1525+3723 4.3, 6.5 @ 108″ s656 1350+2117 6.8, 7.3 @ 86″ iota 1416+5122 4.9, 7.5 @ 38″ stf1850 1429+2817 6.0, 7.0 @ 25.6″ kappa 1414+5147 4.6, 6.6 @ 13.4″ xi 1451+1906 4.7, 7.0 @ 6.9″ stf1835 1423+0827 5.1, 7.6 @ 6.2″ pi 1441+1625 4.9, 5.8 @ 5.6″

Camelopardalis psa 11/12/31

11/12 0506+5858 5.4, 6.5 @ 180″ s436 0349+5707 6.5, 7.3 @ 58″ 32 1249+8325 5.3, 5.8 @ 21.6″ 1 0432+5355 5.7, 6.8 @ 10.3″

Cancer psa 24

b584 0840+1933 6.9, 7.2 @ 45″ iota 0847+2846 4.2, 6.6 @ 30″ stf1245 0836+0637 6.0, 7.2 @ 10.3″ zeta 0812+1739 5.6, 6.0 @ 5.9″ phi2 0827+2656 6.3, 6.3 @ 5.1″

Canes Venatici psa 32

17 1310+3830 6.0, 6.2 @ 84″ alpha 1256+3819 2.9, 5.5 @ 19.4″

Canis Major psa 27

h3945 0717-2320 5.0, 5.8 @ 26.8″

Capricornus psa 66

beta1/2 2021-1447 3.4, 6.2 @ 205″ omicron 2030-1834 6.0, 6.5 @ 21.9″

Cassiopeia psa 1

oss26 0220+6002 6.9, 7.4 @ 63″ stf3053 0003+6605 6.0, 7.7 @ 15.2″ eta 0049+5749 3.4, 7.5 @ 12″

Cepheus psa 71/73

delta 2229+5825 3.9, 6.3 @ 41″ stf2840 2152+5547 5.5, 7.3 @ 18.3″ beta 2129+7034 3.2, 7.9 @ 13.3″ xi 2204+6438 4.4, 6.5 @ 7.7″ stf2816 2139+5729 5.6, 7.7, 7.8 @ 11.7″, 121″

Cetus psa 6

66 0213-0224 5.7, 7.5 @ 16.5″

Coma Berenices psa 45

17 1229+2555 5.3, 6.6 @ 145″ 32/33 1252+1704 6.3, 6.7 @ 95″ 24 1235+1823 5.2, 6.7 @ 20.3″

Corona Borealis psa 53

zeta 1539+3638 5.1, 6.0 @ 6.3″ sigma 1615+3352 5.6, 6.6 @ 6.2″

Corvus psa 47

stf 1669 1241-1300 6.0, 6.1 @ 5.4″

Cygnus psa 62/63

31 2014+4644 3.8, 7.0, 4.8 @ 107″, 338″ 16 1942+5031 6.0, 6.2 @ 40.0″ beta 1931+2758 3.1, 5.1 @ 34.4″ 61 2107+3845 5.2, 6.0 @ 28″ stf2486 1912+4951 6.6, 6.8 @ 7.9″

Delphinus psa 64

s752 2030+1925 6.6, 7.0 @ 106″ gamma 2047+1607 4.4, 5.0 @ 9.1″

Draco psa 41/52/61

16/17 1636+5255 5.4, 5.5 @ 108″ 39 1824+5848 5.0, 7.4 @ 89″ oss123 1327+6444 6.7, 7.0 @ 69″ nu 1732+5511 4.9, 4.9 @ 62″ omicron 1851+5923 4.8, 7.8 @ 34.2″ psi 1742+7209 4.9, 6.1 @ 30.3″ 40/41 1800+8000 5.7, 6.1 @ 19.3″ stf2452 1854+7546 6.6, 7.4 @ 5.6″

Equuleus psa 75

epsilon 2059+0418 6.0, 7.1 @ 11″

Eridanis psa 16/17

55 0444-0848 6.7, 6.8 @ 9.2″ 32 0354-0257 4.7, 6.2 @ 6.8″

Gemini psa 25

20 0632+1747 6.3, 6.9 @ 20.0″ 38 0655+1311 4.7, 7.7 @ 7.1″

Hercules psa 52/54/55/65

37 1641+0413 5.8, 7.0 @ 70″ kappa 1608+1703 5.3, 6.5 @ 28″ 100 1808+2606 5.9, 6.0 @ 14.2″ 95 1802+2136 5.0, 5.1 @ 6.3″ alpha 1715+1423 3.5, 5.4 @ 4.7″ rho 1724+3709 4.6, 5.6 @ 4.1″

Lacerta psa 72

8 2236+3938 5.7, 6.5 22.4″

Leo psa 34/35

alpha 1008+1158 1.4, 7.7 @ 177″ tau 1128+0251 5.0, 7.4 @ 91″ 83 1127+0300 6.2, 7.8 @ 28.5″ 54 1056+2445 4.5, 6.3 @ 6.5″ gamma 1020+1951 2.2, 3.5 @ 4.4″

Lepus psa 16

gamma 0545-2227 3.7, 6.3 @ 96″ h3780 0539-1751 6, 9, 8, 8 @ 89″, 76″, 129″ s476 0519-1831 6.2, 6.4 @ 39″

Libra psa 57

alpha 1451-1602 3.0, 5.0 @ 231″ shj179 1426-1958 6.6, 6.6 @ 16″ stf1962 1539-0847 6.5, 6.6 @ 11.9″

Lynx psa 23

5 0627+5825 5.3, 7.9 @ 96″ 19 0723+5517 5.6, 6.5 @ 14.8″ stf958 0648+5542 6.3, 6.3 @ 4.8″

Lyra psa 63

epsilon1/2 1844+3940 5.0, 5.2 @ 208″ beta 1850+2948 3.5, 7.0 @ 46.6″ oss525 1855+3358 6.0, 7.7 @ 45″ zeta 1845+3736 4.3, 5.9 @ 44″

Monoceros psa 25/26/27

zeta 0809-0259 4.3, 7.8 @ 67″ epsilon 0624+0436 4.5, 6.5 @ 27″ beta 0629-0702 4.7, 5.2 @ 7.3″

Ophiuchus psa 54/56

rho 1626-2327 5, 8, 7 @ 151″, 156″ s694 1752+0107 6.9, 7.1 @ 82″ 53 1735+0935 5.5, 7.5 @ 41.3″ 61 1745+0235 6.2, 6.6 @ 20.6″

Orion psa 14/16

delta 0532-0018 2.5, 6.5 @ 52.6″ theta2 0535-0525 5.0, 6.5 @ 52″ shj49 0459+1432 6.0, 7.5 @ 39.4″ stf747 0535-0600 4.8, 5.7 @ 35.7″ 23 0523+0333 5.0, 7.1 @ 32″ stf855 0609-0230 6.0, 7.0 @ 29.5″ sigma 0539-0236 4.0, 8.8, 6.5, 6.6 @ 11″, 13″, 42″ iota 0536-0555 2.8, 6.9 @ 11.3″ theta1 0535-0523 6.7, 7.9, 5.1, 6.7 @ 8.8″, 13.0″, 21.5″ lambda 0535+0956 3.6, 5.5 @ 4.4″

Pegusus psa 74/75

stf2841 2154+1943 6.4, 7.9 @ 22.3″ stf2978 2308+3249 6.3, 7.5 @ 8.4″

Perseus psa 12/13

57 0433+4304 6.1, 6.8 @ 116″ stf331 0301+5221 5.3, 6.7 @ 12.1″

Pisces psa 5

77 0106+0455 6.8, 7.6 @ 33″ psi1 0106+2128 5.6, 5.8 @ 30″ zeta 0114+0735 5.6, 6.5 @ 23″ 35 0015+0849 6.0, 7.6 @ 11.6″ 65 0050+2743 6.3, 6.3 @ 4.4″

Sagitta psa 64

bu139 1913+1651 6.5, 7.5 @ 113″ theta 2010+2055 6.5, 7.4 @ 84″

Scorpius psa 56

nu 1612-1928 4.3, 6.4 @ 41″ beta 1605-1948 2.5, 5.0 @ 13.7″ xi 1604-1122 4.8, 7.3 @ 7.6″

Serpens psa 55/65

stf1919 1513+1918 6.7, 7.6 @ 23.9″ theta 1856+0412 4.6, 4.9 @ 22.1″

Sextans psa 34

35 1043+0445 6.3, 7.4 @ 6.8″

Taurus psa 14/15

21/22 0346+2432 5.6, 6.4 @ 168″ eta 0348+2406 2.9, 6.3 @ 117″ hvi98 0416+0611 6.3, 7.0 @ 66″ chi 0423+2538 5.5, 7.6 @ 19.4″ stf401 0331+2734 6.4, 6.9 @ 11.3″ 118 0529+2509 5.8, 6.6 @ 4.8″

Ursa Major psa 31/42/43

stf1831 1416+5643 6.6, 7.1 @ 108″ 65 1155+4629 6.5, 6.7 @ 63″ stf1415 1018+7104 6.7, 7.3 @ 16.7″ zeta 1324+5456 2.3, 4.0 @ 14.4″

Ursa Minor psa 51

alpha 0231+8915 2.0, 9.0 @ 18.4″ pi1 1529+8027 6.6, 7.3 @ 31″

Virgo psa 47

stf1627 1218-0357 6.6, 6.9 @ 20.1″ 54 1314-1849 6.5, 7.2 @ 5.3″

Vulpecula psa 75

stf2769 2111+2409 6.5, 7.5 @ 17.9″

*****

*image credit: space.com*

saber does the stars at http://saberdoesthestars.wordpress.com

c14 is awesome! (saber does the stars vol. 2: the index catalog) at http://c14isawesome.blogspot.com

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