#‘I felt like dressing as a ghoul would be keeping with the tradition… you know

[pierres-general-deliveries]

Who will you be for Halloween? I think you should be Morris or Wizard. Or they should be you

Ah, anon… already two steps ahead of me!

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: White & Red pt 2 (Final)

Ghouls and Gowns.

It was probably the nicest formal dress shop in all The Boiling Isles, and Amity had always imagined getting her wedding dress from this shop since she was a child, since before she had even met Luz. It was well known for it’s one of a kind garments, but they booked appointments for fittings out months in advance, sometimes even a year. Getting in with less than six months' notice was an impossible task, so maybe Amity had flexed her status and reputation a little to get such a short notice reservation, she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it, especially Luz.

Willow, Emira, and Viney were waiting outside the shop when they arrived.

“Hey, Mittens!” Her sister grinned at her as they approached. “Eda, Ms. Noceda.” she nodded, smiling at the older two women.

"Hello, girls." Camila smiled at them.

"Thanks for coming." Amity smiled at the three.

“As if I’d let you do this without me.” Emira smiles at her.

"Of course!" Willow smiled.

"Wouldn't miss it," Viney agreed with a grin, crossing her arms.

"Well, we gonna do this or what?" Eda asked.

"Yeah, let's go." Amity nodded, rolling her eyes at the older, wild witch as they went into the shop.

The room was large and spacious with a few white couches arranged into a semi-circle around a raised platform with a half-circle of full-length mirrors and row upon row of dresses in every size, style, and color one could imagine.

"Ahh, Miss. Blight, you're right on time.” The well-dressed clerk with long, straight black hair clapped her hands together and smiled at them. “Feel free to walk around and pick out anything you’d like and try on, and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” she nodded as they split up and wandered through the aisles.

“Any preferences Amity?” Willow asked, her voice carried over the racks.

“Not really… I kind of just hope I’ll know it when I see it I suppose...”

“I don’t even remember what I was wearing when I got married…” Eda’s voice calls from somewhere behind her.

“You were married?!” The younger witches shout and Eda’s chuckle comes from somewhere in the store.

“Just for twelve hours, give or take. Sometimes you have to go that extra mile for the scam.”

Amity rolled her eyes and shook her head at the woman Luz had chosen as a second mother and would be her second mother-in-law.

“Well, why don’t we pick out some options for you to try on?” Her sister’s voice sounds from somewhere off to her left among the clothes.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Amity called as she wandered up and down the aisles, it’s a little overwhelming, honestly.

This is, so far, the only thing she and Luz hadn’t decided on together. They’d picked a date, a place, a time, and already sent out invitations to everyone that really mattered to them as well as arranged for the food and cake at the after-party. It was all fairly simple as far as weddings went, neither had any interest in a big, extravagant event.

She felt a twinge in her chest. It had been well over two months and she still hadn’t heard from her father. She did her best to shove down the hurt feelings, she knew it was a high possibility that he might not come, but she had really hoped he would. She shook her head, she was shopping for her wedding dress, now was not the time to be sad, she should be happy, and she was, but there was still a twinge of sadness beneath, thinking that both her parents had all but abandoned her. She shook herself off and focused on the task at hand.

She picked a few dresses off the racks that she rather liked and met them back in front of the changing room and piled their suggestions into Amity’s arms. Her knees strained under the weight of the material, but she managed to get them back inside the dressing room. The first dress in the pile was a short, white, sheath dress, Amity wasn’t sure how she felt about it as she looked at herself in the mirror, but since it was on she may as well see what the others thought.

“I can’t believe it’s just two months away.” Willow clapped her hands together.

“Seems like just yesterday Luz was denying she even had a crush on Amity and having a conniption in the living room.” Eda chuckled wistfully. “Now they’re getting hitched.”

“When are you going to propose?” Emira huffed, crossing her arms and glancing sideways at her girlfriend who blinked owlishly at her.

“Uh....” Viney is saved by Amity coming out of the dressing room and quickly garnering all of Emira’s, and everyone else’s attention.

“What do you all think?” Amity asked, stepping out.

“It’s cute, but I don't think that’s really what you’re going for for your wedding.” Emira cocked her head.

“It’s pretty,” Willow agreed. “Maybe a little on the short side, you are pretty tall.” Willow smiled.

“Yeah, I don’t love how short it is…,” she mumbled, smoothing her hands over the stiff material.

“Luz might…,” Viney chuckled, and Amity pinked.

“Well, the color is fairly traditional…,” Camila threw in her own two cents, and can immediately tell by the confused faces the witches make that a white wedding dress isn’t something they do.

“Is white an important color in human weddings?” Willow looks at her curiously.

“Important? No, but in the human world many cultures have brides wear white, though it’s more of an old tradition, it was a way to signify their virginity.” The assembled witches are looking at her strangely.

“Why?” Viney’s face is scrunched up in confusion at such a strange and frankly, embarrassing concept.

Camila pauses a second, trying to figure out how to explain old cultural traditions to people who have very different traditions and values of their own.

“In most cultures, you aren’t meant to have sex before marriage and the white dress was a way of telling your future husband you hadn’t,” is the simplest way she can think to explain it.

“So white’s out then,” Emira grins wickedly, looking at Amity, who shoots her a withering look, if there is one thing she doesn’t want to talk about in front of her future mother-in-law, it’s having sex with her daughter.

“Definitely out,” Eda chimes in, looking tired at the very thought and Amity slaps a hand to her face.

“It’s really just worn more for the sake of tradition now, you should pick whatever color you like, Cariño.” Camila frowns, she also does not want to talk about this. She’ll always think of Luz as her baby and she does not want to talk about her in any kind of passionate embrace with the young woman in front of her, or anyone really.

“Moving on,” Amity snaps when her sister starts to open her mouth again, a grin on her face. Emira pouts as Amity disappears back into the changing room and sets aside all the white dresses that have been hung up. She’s not going to have this conversation again.

They go through a few more but Amity just can’t see herself getting married in them. She looks through them before deciding to try the last of her own picks but quickly spots a problem.

“Willow, can you come help me?” she calls and within a few seconds, Willow was popping her head in the dressing room.

“Whatcha need?”

A few minutes after Willow disappears into the dressing room she comes back out, smiling giddily before Amity comes out behind her, and Emira gasps, as Eda lets out a low whistle.

"Oh, wow." Viney blinks and Camila can't help but think how incredibly lucky her daughter is.

It's long, stretching down to just above her ankles and in that dark shade of magenta Amity is known for, all save the sleeves and shoulders that stretched from the back of her hands up to the sides of her neck in black lace, strewn with floral patterns. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and can’t help but smile to herself. She likes the way it feels and looks on her skin.

“What do you think?” Amity turns to look at them, doing a little spin, making the skirt flutter.

“Oh, I love it! The lacing in the back is cute too!” Emira gushes, looking at the dark lace that intricately zigzags across the small of her back, cinching it closed.

"It's beautiful." Willow clapped her hands and Viney nodded in agreement.

"You look wonderful, Cariño.”

“Yeah, the kid might just die when she sees you…,” Eda chuckled approvingly.

“But, do you like it?” Viney asks and Amity smiles brightly to herself as she looks in the mirror and everyone can see it in the reflection. It's obvious to all of them that Amity loves the dress if that smile on her lips is anything to go by.

“Yeah, I love this one.” she nods, trying not to let the stinging of her eyes turn to tears.

“Sounds like we got a winner to me.” Eda clapped her hands and stood from the couch.

“Yes, this is the one.” she smiled and turned to face them and the front of the shop. “I think…” There's a flash of white out of the corner of her eye and her head whips up and standing outside the glass are five figures in familiar off white cloaks and gray masks, gloved hands raised. She barely has enough time to whip up a hand, spell circle blazing to life and then there's a loud blast and the front windows explode in a shower of shattered glass and flames

Magic flies through the air into the street and people start screaming.

~ ~

Luz hummed to herself, quickly filling orders and trading them for snails while Calliban laid around her neck dozing, his flickering tail tickling her ear. Mochuelo had grown bored of the market and returned to his staff, holstered safely across her back.

The buzzing is still a quiet constant, but she manages to drown it out, for the most part, keeping herself busy, hocking potions to every passerby with an enthusiasm that would make a car salesman green with envy.

It was busier earlier but the market has thinned some now and Luz is leaning on her stand, chin in one hand and scratching Calliban's head with the other as he growled contentedly. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, picking up an elixir and rolling the round bottle around in her palm, trying to still her anxious energy. The market is quiet today until it isn’t.

It was faint at first, a dull, distant noise. She didn't notice till a sudden stampede of people were running past her stand screaming and shouting that a group of loyalists were attacking the garment district of the market. Luz froze and the potion held in her hand fell from her limp grip, shattering as it hit the ground at her feet. Her whole body starts to seize up as cold dread spreads through her.

The constant, nagging anxiousness that had been whispering at the back of her mind all day comes roaring to the forefront, unable to be ignored and Luz is flooded with panic, all she could think of was the last time she had stood in this market during a similar situation; panic and bedlam erupting around her.

Suddenly she’s there again.

The market is in flames and people are screaming as they run past her, smashing into her shoulders and stampeding all over each other in their panic, trying to escape imminent death in the approaching legion of white-cloaked loyalists that are systematically making their way through the district, killing anyone who does not kneel or run.

There are at least a hundred of them marching down the main aisle of the market, tearing the stands apart and burning them down as they execute anyone who tries to stop them. They aren’t looking for anything or even stealing, they’re just destroying.

There are too many people for her to fire off any spells and more importantly, somewhere beyond the line of approaching loyalists, was Amity, she’d been meeting a contact, alone, and is now behind the enemy line, and panic wells up in her, threatening to overflow. She takes off running and jumps on her staff, flying overhead, dodging and spinning through the sky as the air fills with shots of fire and loud crackling bolts of lightning that make her hair stand on end as they strike to close for comfort through the air near her head. She manages to get past the advancing force and behind them are stragglers, still destroying the market and blasting holes in the permanent buildings and another emotion rises up to join her panic. That’s one thing about the war that Luz had never expected to bring out in her: hot, indignant, frothing rage.

Belos would rather destroy the Isles than lose his Iron grip on them, and now that they had pushed his forces back to the chest, he was doing just that. How many innocent witches, adults, and children had she seen slaughtered without a second thought by those wearing the off-white cloaks and gray masks? Too many to ever forget or to forgive, but right now, she can’t stop the bedlam going on below, to try would be suicide by herself, and it kills her inside to do nothing, but the best she can hope for is to find Amity and get out of here to muster their forces waiting to the south where they had been preparing to storm the castle for the last two weeks.

She has to find her, quickly, they were less conspicuous apart so Luz had walked around the market while Amity went to meet their contact from the castle near the entrance to the night market, now as she flew over the market, eyes desperately moving over all the people running panicked through the market, flames, and smoke obscuring her sight, she wished she had insisted that she stay with her.

Her teeth grit together as her eyes flicker from one gruesome section of the market to the next. Bodies are lying in the streets like bits of discarded trash and the stands and tents are burning like dry kindling, their crackling and popping fires fueled by spiteful magic, accompanied by a chorus of screams that thumps in her ears, a high pitched concerto in this death song. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, and it probably won’t be the last. Her eyes water from the smoke as she flies over the market, searching.

“Where are you, where are you, where are you!?” Is her one screaming thought as her heart pounds in her chest.

Suddenly, near the entrance to the night market, her eyes fall on a shakingly standing figure with bright, dual-colored hair but all Luz can see is the bright crimson staining her white cloak as a squadron of loyalists closes in on her.

She doesn’t feel her mouth open or even recognizes the screaming voice that rips out of her own throat.

“Amity!”

Luz jerks suddenly, the buzzing has turned to loud static crackling across her body, shooting in electric bursts that make her twitch with pain as tense numbness that only makes her feel more panicked spreads through her body with cold dread. She can’t even feel Calliban rubbing himself against her neck, trying to quell the sudden panic he can feel radiating off her like the heat from the flames in her memories, feels the ghost of on her skin. Her heart is hammering in her ears and she grabs her staff off her back and jumps over the counter and is flying in the direction of the dress shop she knows Amity was going to. She has to see her, has to see with her own two eyes, know that’s she’s okay, has to, has to!

~ ~ ~

Amity scowled to herself as she ducked behind the overturned couch, spinning a circle and jumping up, flinging a wind spell that sent the group of loyalists stumbling backward as the gale-force winds pushed them back out toward the street, Viney, and Emira following up with a blast of fire, while vines have burst out of the ground to create a wall between them and their attackers.

“Loyalists!” Eda spat.

“What are they doing here?” Willow frowns, throwing out another vine at an approaching loyalist, flinging them across the room like a sack of meat, before they hit the wall with a bang and fall to the floor, unmoving.

“They want me if I had to guess,” Amity grits out between her teeth.

There are only six in the shop and three already lay motionless on the floor. When Belos had finally laid dead, those who had supported him scattered to the winds, the majority of people just gave up and moved on, accepting the new order, but some splinter groups remained loyal to the tyrant emperor, even in death.

Amity jumped up, sending an abomination leaping through the air to pounce on one, crushing him beneath its weight. His comrade being crushed to death distracts the fifth long enough for Eda to send a bolt of lightning flying straight into their chest with her staff.

“Still got it!” Eda grinned as the loyalist's body lay smoking on the ground. Camila gave her a look. “What?”

The shop quieted and slowly they moved out from behind Willow's barrier to inspect the damage.

Amity frowned, looking around, frantically, the rest of the girls are looking for anymore, it seems they got them all. They cautiously move around the shop, careful of the broken glass, furniture, and turned over wracks of formal wear that lay singed or in ashes on the floor, checking to make sure the loyalists laying on the floor are really dead or unconscious. Movement out of the corner of her eye makes Eda turn to look.

“On your six!” Eda shouts from the other side of the shop and they turn to find a last masked loyalist, as he jumped out from behind a display on the sidewalk outside the doors, dark red spell circle already completed and about to fire a spell right at Amity when a scream makes them and the loyalist turn to look, and suddenly Luz flies into sight and is still airborne when she rips her staff out from under her and whips it back, still flying through the air and swinging with all her might. A sickening crunch fills the air as her staff crashes into them and the loyalists’ mask goes flying, clattering to the ground with a splatter of blood as they’re flung back from the vicious blow and hit the ground in an unmoving heap. Luz stumbles as she hits the ground but stays standing, panting heavily, staff clutched tightly in her white-knuckled grip, and face pulled back in a manic snarl.

The women are frozen as they look at Luz

Camila’s mouth hangs open in horror, as it had been nearly since the attack had started, but especially now, as she looks at her baby, panting and standing hunched over the fallen attacker, trembling, and looking crazed.

Emira actually comes out of it first and is quickly shoving Amity into the dressing room, out of her fiancée's sight.

“Wha- Em! What are you doing!?” She shouts at her as she pushes her behind the door.

“She can’t see you in that before the wedding!” Emira reminds as she locks the door behind them.

“Is that really important right now?!” Amity yells at her sister.

“Change quickly!” Emira helps her quickly start unlacing the back.

“Kid, what are you doing here?” Eda calls as she quickly walks up to Luz and the second she turns to look at her, she knows Luz is only barely there. Her pupils are blown wide and she’s looking around frantically and not seeing her fiancée, which only makes the panic in her eyes double. Eda clenches her jaw, hissing expletives under her breath; she’s having an episode.

“Where’s Amity?!” Even if everyone hadn’t immediately seen the crazed look on her face, they hear the panic and alarm in her voice the second she speaks, as does Amity in the dressing room, and after how Luz had been this morning she knows exactly what is happening outside the dressing room.

“Hurry!” Amity barks at her sister who unlaces her as fast as her fingers can manage, swearing under her breath at the complicated backing.

“Stupid fucking lace!” Emira spits.

“Calm down, she’s fine, Luz, we promise,” Viney tries, scooting closer, slowly, she too knows what is happening and Luz is liable to bolt for the changing room, and while she doesn’t care one way or the other if Luz sees Amity in her dress, they don’t need her ripping the door off the hinges to a half-dressed or undressed Amity.

“No, No! I have to see her now, I have to!” She’s shaking her head and her eyes are starting to glaze over, body quaking with visible tremors.

“Luz, relax, Amity is fine, she’s just changing.” Willow holds up her hands as she carefully approaches her friend who is clearly having a panic attack. They all had seen it happen before, just after the war, just once, but it was enough to always remember, and Willow had her own specters from the war, after all. They all did and knew what behavior to look for, and right now, Luz was a glowing beacon of distress.

Wide, brown eyes whip to the changing room, and predictably, she bolts forward, so do Viney and Willow, grabbing her in their tight grips

Luz growls, immediately trying to break free, kicking and screaming and it’s all Willow and Viney can do to keep her still as her staff clatters to the floor as she pushes at their hands.

“Let go!” she snarls, she’s past hearing anything they say until she sees Amity with her own eyes, heart pounding in her ears. Nothing else will ease the hands of panic wrapped chokingly around her throat and dipping into her chest to squeeze her heart, threatening to pop it.

“Mija, it’s okay…!” Camila starts but Eda puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a look she can’t really describe.

“She can’t hear you, she’s having an… episode,” Eda says quietly and Camila blinks.

“Episode?” Camila asks, eyes back on Luz, she holds her hands over her mouth as Luz thrashes wildly in Willow and Viney’s grasp. Eda scowls to herself, watching Luz panic in her friend’s grip, writhing and screaming. She’s seen Luz have episodes before, exactly twice since the war had ended, they had been hard to watch, but even by those standards, this one is bad. She’d already been feeling off this morning, but the attack from one of the remaining loyalist splinter groups had triggered an epic meltdown in the human.

Eda quietly explains this quickly to Camila who comes to a startling realization, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“She has PTSD…,” Camila chokes, chest aching as her baby is still screaming and fighting against her closest friends who can barely contain her, they fear using magic to hold her will only make her thrash and fight harder, maybe hurt herself.

“Luz, please, it’s okay!” Willow clutches her friend tightly, she hurts for her, and Viney grimaces, arms looped through Luz’s while Willow clings to her waist as she bucks and strains against them.

“ARGHHH!” Luz threw her head back and the loud, high-pitched, wailing sound that rips out of her throat has no words, but the agony it carries is visceral and they can all feel it echo in the core of their beings. Inside the dressing room, Emira feels a cold chill go up her spine at the sound. Luz is howling as though someone has died and Amity is nearly in tears.

Finally, she turns and bursts out of the dressing room, Emira yelling back at her.

“Amity, your shirt!” she yells.

She ignores her and dashes around the corner, barefoot, and only half-dressed in her pants and bra. She was dressed enough, she couldn’t stand listening to Luz’s anguished wails that cut deep into her heart another second.

“Luz, it’s okay!” she hurried forward and the second Luz’s eyes land on her the fight drains out of her like rushing water. Viney and Willow step back as she launched herself at Amity, who grunts as her fiancée grabs her in a bone-crushing embrace. She can feel her whole body shaking

“You’re okay, you’re okay…,” Luz chokes on her gurgled words before she finally burst into tears, burying her face in Amity’s neck, wailing, her nails are digging painfully into the skin of Amity’s back but she barely notices it as she runs her fingers through Luz’s hair as her knees buckle and she carefully lowers Luz and herself both to the floor, mindful of the glass still scattered across the floor.

“I’m okay,” she whispers back softly, squeezing back. “It’s okay, love, everything is alright," she coos softly into her ear.

Emira comes out of the dressing room with the dress carefully folded and in its box and glanced worriedly at them as she walks past to the counter, the others join her, leaving the couple alone on the floor, trying hard to ignore the sounds of Luz’s muffled sobbing or Amity’s mumbled words of comfort.

“We’ll take this,” she tells the still cowering clerk behind the counter.

“You fought off the loyalists, just take it,” the witch insists, shoving it back to them.

"Amity won't want us to do that…," Willow says quietly, frowning.

"She won't complain this time," Eda decides for them, taking the box off the counter and walking out the door. "Come on, let's give the kids a few minutes."

They follow Eda out, Camila does so reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder at her daughter, curled up tightly in Amity’s arms on the floor.

“Everything is alright,” Amity mumbles, burying her face in her weeping lover’s hair, tears dripping down her own cheeks. “It's okay, Luz.” she shoves as much conviction into these words as possible, willing Luz to believe them.

It takes a good half hour before Luz can stop crying and squeezing Amity tightly against her. The panic that had choked her and clouded her mind has ebbed away, receding to the same quiet buzzing it had been before. She can feel Calliban still wrapped around her neck, his warm scaly body scrapes her neck as he moves, trying to comfort her.

She sniffles and takes a shaky breath.

“Mierda… I’m sorry,” she finally manages to say. “… people were running and screaming through the market and I...I...”

“Shhh, don’t be sorry,” Amity says, cutting her off gently as she cards her fingers through her hair, gently scratching her scalp. “I know, I understand,” she feels Luz go limp against her before she pulled back to look at her and Amity reached up to wipe away the remains of any tears still sliding down Luz's flushed cheeks. “Are you okay enough to go home?” she asks and Luz lets out a shaky breath but nods.

“Yeah” she nodded.

“Good, I still need to finish getting dressed…” Amity tells her and Luz blinks, finally really looking at Amity and noticing her less than fully dressed state.

“¡Ay Dios mio! Lo siento mucho, Amor.” Luz grimaced, pulling her cloak off her shoulders with still shaky hands and draped it over Amity, who smiled softly at her.

"It's alright, Luz," she assured her as they stood and Amity disappeared back into the dressing room for a few minutes before coming back out fully dressed and Luz's cloak in hand.

She laid it back across her shoulders before meeting the others, still standing outside the shop.

"Hey, Kid. You okay?" Eda asked once they appeared.

"I'll be okay…just… sorry…" she gives a tired shrug. Now that the panicked energy has left her she's exhausted.

"Mija, why didn't you tell me you had PTSD?" Camila asks her, and Luz blinks.

"Oh… I never thought about it, yeah… I guess I do…" Luz frowned.

"What's PTSD?" Emira blinks.

Camila spends the next hour explaining to the witches what PTSD is and by the time the day is done, several of them leave knowing a little more about themselves now than they did before.

Emira and Viney leave on Puddles and Willow makes her own goodbyes as well, before leaving for home.

Eda takes Camila and the dress back to the house with promises to start on dinner.

Amity goes with Luz to pack up her stall in the market. She can tell that Luz is drained but she's also avoiding Amity's gaze, which makes her frown. She reached over and rubbed her arm.

"I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah… I just feel like I ruined your dress thing." Luz frowned and Amity's eyes widened.

"No, Luz, those loyalists did that, you didn't ruin anything." Amity takes hold of both her arms and forces her to face her.

"I don't think my showing up and acting like a lunatic helped things,” Luz grunted, eyes trained on the ground. That wouldn’t do. Amity reached up and gently took hold of her chin. Luz didn’t resist as she lifted her head to lock eyes with her.

“Hey, I understand, you know I do. That… panic just takes hold of you and it’s all you can do to hold yourself together, I get it. I feel that way some days too. When sounds are too loud and lights are too bright, it feels like you can’t breathe…,” she lets go of her chin to gently cup one of Luz’s warm cheeks. “I know, just like I know when I’m having those days you're there for me, and I'll be there for you. Today was hard, and some days will be, but it’s okay, we’ll get through them, together.” she smiled and Luz sighed heavily through her nose as she reached up to press her hand over hers and turned her head to press a kiss to Amity’s palm.

“Together,” Luz agreed.

They make quick work of closing up her stand and head home on Amity’s staff. Luz lays her head tiredly on Amity’s shoulder the whole way, arms wrapped around her waist, drawing comfort from the warm body pressed to hers.

They have dinner with her moms and Lilith, King doing a lot to lighten the mood when he climbs on the table and tries to steal food from Eda’s plate, triggering a massive food fight before Amity takes Camila back through the portal, while Luz sits tiredly on the couch.

“You doing okay, Kid?” Eda plops down next to her and Luz sighs.

“I guess, just tired, and I feel like I made a fool of myself in front of everyone today,” she grumbled.

“Ah, don’t worry about that, everyone understands, especially after Cam explained the whole PTSD thing, honestly, I think most people that fought in the war got a little of it, I know sometimes Lily is kind of tense...er than usual anyway. You and Amity, you did a lot of fighting, saw a lot of tough stuff. I’d be more concerned if you two weren’t affected. I mean, you two were the ones that killed Belos too.”

Luz flinched at that, eyes squeezing shut

“I don’t want to talk about that today.” Luz turned her head away and Eda frowned but nodded to herself.

“Sure, Kid.”

“Also, since when did Mami become ‘Cam’?” Luz turned back to face her, brow cocked and Eda grinned.

“We've been talking.” she shrugged. Luz wasn’t sure she liked the way Eda was grinning about that. She was ecstatic they were getting along, but maybe better than she had anticipated.

“About what?”

“All kinds of stuff, mostly you, but lots of stuff, see?” she pointed to the family photo wall and for the first time, Luz noticed some new additions and groaned when her eyes fell on a slew of her baby photos that had definitely not been there before.

“She’s been coming to have tea time with me and Lily, we trade photos.” Eda grinned.

“Of course she has,” luz groaned and Eda cackled. “I’m gonna go lay down,” Luz mumbled, hauling herself to her feet. “Night.” she waved as she climbed the stairs.

“Night, Kid.”

It’s all luz can do to kick off her shoes and lay her staff and pouches on the desk before flopping back into bed with a sigh, eyes closed.

She’s not sure how long she lays there but after a while, she hears the bedroom door open and closes softly, followed by light, quiet steps she’d recognize anywhere. She listens to Amity move about their bedroom quietly for a few minutes before the bed dips and she slots herself against Luz’s side, arm draped over her waist and head on her shoulder.

“Are you awake?” is the quiet question and Luz hums affirmatively.

“Just trying to relax…,” she mumbled with a sigh.

“Maybe I can help…” is the quiet, lilted reply and Luz can’t help but laugh, eyes opening as she turned on her side to face Amity, brown meeting gold.

“Tempting, but I don’t have it in me tonight.” she grinned and Amity grins back at her and shrugs.

“Thought I’d offer.”

Luz chuckled and pulled her closer, foreheads touching.

“This is fine,” she murmurs, eyes closing again. Amity hums against her and they lay there quietly for a while. The buzzing has finally quieted, leaving her in wonderful, blissful silence, muscles finally full relaxing.

Till a quiet tapping makes her eyes pop open to stare into Amity’s, gold eyes silently telling her that she hears it too.

Luz props herself up on one arm and looks around their room, the tapping starts again and she catches a tiny shadow outside the window through the stained glass.

She growls, eyes narrowing but then Amity raises a finger and casts a spell circle, the window swings open, and sitting on the windowsill is a snake.

A dark purple and black cobra with gold eyes and Amity sat up immediately.

“A snake?” Luz blinks as it slithers into the room, a rolled-up piece of parchment held in its curled tail.

“It’s Thrasus... my dad’s palisman…,” Amity mumbled, reaching down to let the cobra slither up her arm, it looked at her expectantly and she ran a finger over his smooth, scaled head before taking the paper held in his tail.

“What’s it say?” Luz leaned in over her shoulder to see the paper.

Amity bit her lip, eyes scanning the paper quickly as her eyes glazed over.

“He’s coming…,” she mumbled after a moment. “He’s coming to the wedding.” she smiled to herself and Luz squeezed her shoulders.

“That’s great, mi amor!” Luz grinned.

“Yeah…,” Amity mumbled, still smiling to herself.

“...We should sit him next to mom..” Luz laughed after a moment and Amity snorted, turning to smack her with the paper.

“Titan, no!” she laughed.

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Vampires don't have blood quirks

Part one

This is a vampire!Iida au so the for blood and slight body horror (the engines)

Blood quirks were a very tricky topic to discuss; not only are they all dangerous and mostly useless quirks, but there's almost no way to become a hero using one. All this is without mentioning the fact that they aren't the only bloodsuckers around, the 0.05% of the population that have blood quirks doesn’t seem so bad when compared to the 0.2% of the population that aren’t even fully human. Vampires, ghouls, nosferatu- whatever you choose to call them, they’re dangerous and they’re terrifying and they look just like you or me.

They have existed before quirks, and all the existence of quirks had done to them was make them more powerful, as well as making it easier for them to hide. They aren’t allergic to the sun, that was a myth started by an author who ran out of things to say about them, the garlic allergy and the mirror thing are both real though. The mirror’s do have to be backed by silver for that to work though, as it was the silver that hid their image. Vampires are just stronger, faster people who age very well and live for a long time. The only thing that makes them scary was their taste for blood- specifically human.

They needed the blood to survive, although they could definitely survive off of animal blood. All that human death was mostly over a preference, vampires tended to feel entitled to that kind of treat due to how much more powerful they were then humans. That was what was running through Tenya Iida’s mind as he got out of bed that morning, it was a tragedy that so many had died for someone’s very expensive taste. Besides, in his humble opinion, there was nothing better than beef blood. Yeah… Iida was a vampire, and as he took his little juicebox of animal blood out of the minifridge under his bed, he wondered if he’d made any mistakes in his essay.

The essay was for english, they had to write about their favorite mythical creature, and as vampires weren’t believed in by most, Iida had written about his own kind. Was that egotistical? He had chosen to write about the specifics of blood and the traditions surrounding it; all framed like fiction of course. He had been careful to avoid personal opinions as he didn’t exactly feel like outing himself right now, he couldn’t even gauge how his classmates would react.

A knock at his door, “good morning Iida!” Ah, it was Midoriya, Iida enjoyed Midoriya’s company. He swallowed his mouthful of blood before replying, he didn’t want to spite it everywhere.

“Good morning Midoriya!”

He knew he was a little loud, but it was the morning; people were supposed to wake up. He was quickly getting dressed, the juice box emptied within seconds, he knew that Midoriya would want to speak to him face to face. Midoriya helpfully confirmed this by asking, “can I come in?”

“Not yet! I’m afraid I'm not yet decent!”

“Ah, okay!” Midoriya’s soft chuckle could be heard through the door, and the droplets of blood still on Tenya’s tongue felt too bitter, too stale. He could feel his own heart beating slowly, around a beat every two seconds. If he were human he’d be worried by this, but it was actually rather quick for him. He shook any sort of thought like that out of his head, finishing getting dressed as quickly as he could, opening the door.

The smile Midoriya gave him bumped Tenya’s heart rate up to one beat per second, he was glad it was near impossible for him to blush. He returned the smile and put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder, “good morning Midoriya, I hope you’re well.”

“I’m doing good, thank you Iida. How are you feeling?”

“Me?” How was he feeling? Tenya wasn’t all too sure in honesty, he’d just woken up. “I’ll be honest Midoriya, I’m a little concerned about the essays, what did you do again?”

“Oh! I didn’t tell you, did I? I wrote about vampires!” Oh, oh dear. If the subject matter wasn’t enough, Midoriya’s smile was almost enough to make poor Tenya’s heart explode. He just stared down at the smaller boy for a little while, unsure how to react. “Uhh… Iida? Are you-”

“I wrote about vampires too!” He exclaimed, grabbing his essay to show Midoriya, “I wrote about the complex relationship between vampires and blood. What about you?”

“Oh!” Midoriya paused, “my essay’s in my room, but I wrote about how vampires have evolved throughout different eras of media.” He seemed happy, but still taken off guard, Tenya hoped Midoriya wouldn’t think him strange.

Moving to the bathroom, Tenya got to listen to Midoriya talk about all the interesting things he’d learnt during his research. It was lovely to hear about while he brushed his teeth, making sure to get all the way around his fangs, vampires had to take extra special care of their teeth due to the unusual shapes, he wondered if people with blood quirks had similar problems. “-and then I read the original dracula and he could turn into a wolf, so I wondered if vampires would be able to have quirks. I know the timeline wouldn’t match but but consider it, a vampire with a quirk would be-” Midoriya was still going, speaking at a pace that was hard to keep up with, but it was nice to hear his friend talking about his species, even in the realm of fantasy. At least Tenya knew that Midoriya would definitely have a lot of questions if he knew.

Tenya never ate breakfast, well he did technically, but he never ate the solid food that was prepared. He mostly just sat there, talking with his classmates about what they wrote. It seemed Hagakure had written about the invisible man and how mutation quirks were pre-demonized, a lot of the mutated classmates had gone for that angle in their essays, and Tenya couldn’t blame them; although engine was a mutation quirk, he hadn’t really had to face the kind of scorn that would have happened if it had affected his face in any way. He could, however, relate on two fronts; there were never any trousers that fit him correctly, it all had to be custom fitted, and as a vampire, he knew too well what it was like to be demonized and villainized. Luckily, it was easy enough for him to hide what he was, he did worry that people saw his fangs when he brushed his teeth, but Kirishima had those pointy teeth of his, so there was really nothing to worry about.

Bakugo and Momo had both written about werewolves; though Momo had gone the political route whilst Bakugo had just written about how ‘badass’ they were. Kaminari and Kirishima had written about pikachu and sharks respectively, no one had the heart to tell them they’d almost definitely fail this time. Tenya was just glad no one knew vampires were real, or both he and Midoriya would be in just as much trouble as Kirishima. Also Todoroki apparently? The half and half boy had also written about vampires, specifically about how they’re seen as the highest of high society and often large family units. Tenya assumed he was using it as an outlet for his own family issues, but it did sound like a very interesting essay. He personally didn’t think his family was any different from a human one, but he could see why more old-school families would be so elitist.

Homeroom was nothing too out of the ordinary, Mr Aizawa spoke to them about pressure from the public to do more normal school activities, so he warned them that some of their teachers would be gearing up for group projects, and to pray you get sorted into a good group. Tenya wondered a little about what kind of injuries that would cause, but he didn’t have time to think, as it was english next.

”GOOOOOOOD MOOOOORNNIIINNNGG CLAAAAASSS!!” in he came; Mr Yamada, also known as Present Mic, came walking into the class, putting a stack of papers on the desk. He took the voice modulator off and the students took their hands off their ears. Tenya, personally, didn’t mind the noise, as his engine made quite the roars at times. “I hope you all finished your essays! I’ll be coming around to collect them during the lesson!” he sighed, gazing over the class. Tenya stared up at him expectantly, wondering what their task for today might be. “So I was going to talk about how writing changes between the written word and spoken word, but Principal Nezu says we need to do group work, so I’m going to put you into five groups of four. You’re going to pick a creature from the list I’m putting on the board, then I’ll tell you the project.” He then turned and grabbed the chalk, writing down the names of five different mythical creatures;

Fairies…

Mermaids/Sirens…

Werewolves…

Yokai…

Vampires…

Of course it was up there, it had to be. Tenya was just surprised it wasn’t higher on the list, he hoped he’d get that one, he was never one for fiction. Mr Yamda turned back to them, “raise your hands if you did a project on fairies?”

Both Aoyama and Sato raised their hands, Mr Yamada nodded, writing their name next to the word fairies, “Aaaallllriiiiiight! You two can be in a group, we’ll figure out who to add afterwards. How about mermaids, who did them?”

Jirou raised her hand and… oh dear, so did Mineta. “I did sirens sir, they-”

“Sir can I go to a different group?”

“I’m afraid not Jirou, I can’t do that. Don’t worry though, you won’t have to deal with him alone.” Poor Jirou, Tenya couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling at that moment, it must be horrible. “Who did werewolves?” Both Momo and Bakugo raised their hands, glancing at each other. They both already knew what the other had done, but now they were regretting everything. “OOOooOOOOOoooHHHhh!! This one’s gonna be good, I can tell!” Mr Yamada laughed, writing their names down. “Yokai anyone?” Tokoyaki and Ojiro both raised their hands, they’d used Yokai to talk about how mutations were treated by the general public. “I should have known,” he chuckled as he wrote those names on the board, smiling as he turned back to the class, “now how many of you did vampires?”

Tenya raised his hand, straight up in the air, he smiled proudly as he saw Midoriya hesitantly raise his hand and Todoroki barely lifted his hand high enough to be noticed. Mr Yamada nodded, rolling his eyes fondly, “oh dear, I pity whoever gets grouped with you three.” Tenya wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but he said nothing as he watched Mr Yamada write their names on the board. “Alright kids, so who wants to cover fairies with Aoyama and Sato?”

A few hands were raised and eventually every student was in a group, the person who was put in Tenya’s group alongside himself, Midoriya and Todoroki was Uraraka. It was perfect, she was someone they all enjoyed spending time with. It was then that Mr Yamada turned to the class, ready to announce what the project was, “alright kids, what I want you do to for this project is to make a mockumentary on the creature you’ve picked, I don’t care what tools you use to do so, but it must look good. By the end of the month I want a transcript, a file of research and plans, and the mockumentary for me to grade. If you need absolutely anything, please tell me. For now, though, it’d just like you to brainstorm. Have fun!”

A documentary? Tenya thought the idea of getting to write and film a documentary about his own kind seemed fun, he didn’t know that much but he knew more than his friends. “I think a documentary sounds like an enjoyable project,” he stated as Uraraka joined them at the table they’d made by pushing their desks together.

“Mockumentary,” Todoroki corrected, “vampires are fictional.”

“You don’t know that,” Uraraka corrected him, sitting down, “I believe vampires could exist, they’re no different to people with blood quirks aren’t they?”

Both Todoroki and Midoriya seemed to think this was a reasonable assessment so Tenya had to step in, “pardon me Uraraka but you’re sorely mistaken for there are much less blood quirk users then there would be vampires for the seer fact that vampires are a subset of the species homosapien and not, as you assumed, merely a human with a quirk. In fact it would be impossible for a vampire to hide if they were how you put it, as blood quirk users very rarely have a secondary quirk, get as their own subset, vampires would have just as many quirks as a regular human. If you looked at vampires like they are-”

“Iida, they’re not real.” Midoriya stepped in, “we don’t need to get into details like that until we start writing, we’re just brainstorming now.”

“Ah yes,” Iida nodded, feeling a little silly, “my apologies.” He wished they knew, just so he could talk about it to his heart's content. They were just brainstorming now, planning what they could do. It was Todoroki who said Uraraka could fill the role of the damsel in distress that you see so often in media, and it was Uraraka who responded she could also fill the murderess role.

[catsafarithewriter]

Day 6: Midnight Snack

A/N: This was inspired by a conversation with @wolfiethewriter about potentially how much Baron really knew about human habits, and how easily he’d be to fool. (Also late again... but 

x

The first impression most folk had upon meeting Baron was usually cat.

The second impression, after realising this tiny, well-dressed feline was capable of speech and wielded his words with significant eloquence was normally gentlemen.

Most people didn’t progress past this point, which worked well in Baron’s favour because the third impression commonly veered off into chaos territory.

Haru was on her ninth impression.

This stage consisted of speed running past past words such as infallible, charming, and emotionally constipated, and boomeranging back into the early stages in a messy amalgamation of chaotic gentleman cat Creation.

The overall outcome was the realisation that while Baron was indeed a gentleman and an immortal Creation, he was also substantially under-experienced when it came to the human experience, and also was not immune to laser pointers. 

And while the latter was a tendency that Haru would occasionally indulge for her own amusement (so far the list of banned Bureau items involved not only laser pointers, but also wind-up mice, chalk, and suspiciously-empty boxes), Muta was far more drawn to the former trait.

As such, sometimes there were weird moments in the Bureau.

(Not weird as in abnormal - in a Bureau dedicated to dealing with magic, the supernatural was practically natural - but just gently odd.)

For instance, being woken at 11:45pm by a soft tapping at the door.

Haru rolled over and surveyed the room that was definitely not her room for several long, belaboured moments, before groggily recalling the events of the day before.

Right.

The case.

The nightmare case.

The case involving personified nightmares and physical dreams and had been the reason she had slept in the spare bedroom the Sanctuary had spontaneously produced for her use.

That case.

She stared up at the speckled ceiling and tried to align her unexpected sleepover with the knocking at her door.

It wasn’t the frenzied oh-dear-god-the-monsters-have-found-us hammering, nor the apologetic excuse-me-but-you-left-the-dishes-in-the-sink rapping, but it was unfailingly polite. It was, in nature, the same tone that flight hostesses give when they wake you up for your paid airborne meal at 5am.

She almost would have preferred monsters.

She rolled out of the bed, grabbing the dressing gown that the Sanctuary had thoughtfully provided, and lumbered to the door.

“Wassup?”

Baron, infuriatingly bright-eyed at ridiculous hours of the night and apparently confused as to why Haru didn’t share that trait, offered what was probably a winning smile at any other time of day. “Miss Haru, food is ready.”

Haru blinked.

Then she blinked again for good measure.

When it became quite apparent that she wasn’t dreaming and Baron was indeed there and informing her about food, she mustered up all the eloquence she could manage in her sleep-addled brain, and said, “What?”

The winning smile only slightly faltered. “Muta warned me that after the chaos of the previous case, you may not feel up to macks, but he’s previously made it quite clear how important of a meal it is for mortals, so it’ll do you good to eat.”

Haru squinted through the haze of midnightitis and decided these kinds of hijinks were the reason she didn’t sleep over at the Bureau. Her mind eventually settled on the words that she had understood, even if the direction of the whole sentence had escaped her. “You’re asking...” she fumbled, “for me to come with you at...” she checked, “11:53pm, for food?”

“That seems to be the gist of it, yes.”

She stared at him, swaying slightly in the doorway. ”Sure. Why not?” She yawned and pulled the dressing gown tighter. “Lead the way, mah... messtro... maestro.”

The first signs of reconsideration flittered across Baron’s face. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m awake now. Kinda too late for second guessing.” She tucked her arm into his, partly for the intimacy, but mostly because she didn’t trust herself to find her own way to the kitchen. 

A few more of her mental facilities had come back online by the time they reached the main heart of the Sanctuary, enough for Haru to fully appreciate the extensive spread of food laid out before her. 

“Wow, this is... this is a lot,” Haru stammered. Geez, I’d forgotten how the Bureau never does anything by halves. “I mean, a cold meat spread and everything? Grilled cheese? Sticky rice? Why...? How...?” 

“We thought you might need a proper macks after the day you’ve had.”

“...What?”

“Well, during the nightmare case, you barely had a chance to rest, let alone eat--”

“No, no, I got that. Well,” Haru amended, “I see your logic. Macks?” She wondered whether the Sanctuary translation magic was having another off day. “Is that... Is that a Creation thing?” Except Creations didn’t need to eat, so that didn’t really make any sense... 

“Oh, maybe I’m not saying it right,” Baron hemmed. “Macks: the last meal of the day, originating from the tradition of eating the leftover food before the new day. A portmanteau of ‘midnight’ and ‘snacks’.” He looked at her expectantly as if that explained everything. 

If anything, Haru was left even more flummoxed. The way he spoke was that of a dictionary definition, but it was no word she had ever heard. Maybe the Sanctuary really had tapped out for the night. “Okay, but I’ve never heard of...”

Across the room, Muta suddenly furiously gestured for her to derail that sentence. 

Oh. 

Well. Now it all made sense. 

“...never heard of grilled cheese for macks,” Haru weakly finished. “Excuse me, I always take a turn around the garden before macks; Muta, please join me.” And without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Muta’s arm and hauled him out into the Sanctuary courtyard. 

She waited until the door had swung solidly behind her before starting what was looking to be a very enlightening conversation. 

“Muta,” she said, her arm tightly curled around his arm despite her deceptively light tone, “is it my sleep-deprived brain talking, or have you managed to con Baron and Toto into believing that midnight snacks are a legit meal?”

“Yeah, in hindsight this kinda got out of paw.”

“Kinda?”

“Look, Baron caught me snacking one night, so I lied and made up macks to get him off my back--”

“And he believed you?”

“Keep it down, Chicky; do ya want them to hear? And... eh, at first I think he just let it go. But then he started putting away the leftover food to remove temptation, so I showed him it was a real word.”

“It’s not a real word.”

Muta smirked. “It is if you edit Baron’s dictionary.”

“How...?”

“You’d be amazed what yer can do with a printer, glue, and far too much time.”

“You don’t have a printer,” Haru pointed out. 

“The library does.”

Haru digested this as they circled the far end of the courtyard. “Muta, have you been sneaking into the library at night?”

“Maybe?”

“Oh my god, you’re why everyone thinks it’s haunted.” 

“It is.”

Haru’s mouth clattered shut for several seconds. “Oh no, I did not need to know that.”

“Yer stuff a load of dead trees into one building, yer bound to get spirits following after, like bogeymen and ghouls--” 

“Stop talking. Just... stop.”

Aware that they were returning back in the direction of the Bureau, and that too many circuits would rouse suspicion in their companions, Haru attempted to wrangle the conversation back on to relevant territory.

“You know he’s going to figure it out eventually.”   

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be today, does it, Chicky? I’ve got a good thing going here.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She made a show of tilting her head in the impression of deep thought. “I don’t know how I feel about being an accessory to your lies.”

“How about one secret for another, then?” Muta offered. “I won't tell him your secret if you don’t tell him mine.”

“You don’t know any of my secrets.”  

“I know you’re the one who ate the last of his birthday cake.”

Haru froze. “You have no proof.”

“I found the crumbs on your scarf.” 

“Okay, but it was really good sponge cake and I was hungry and suffering from cramps!”

“So we’ve got a deal?”

Haru narrowed her eyes. “Is this what it feels like to be blackmailed?”

“This ain’t blackmail, this is mutually beneficial shutting-up.” 

“You’re skating on thin ice, buddy.” 

“Just play along for this one night and I promise Baron’ll never know it was you who stole the cake.”

“Only the last slice,” Haru muttered, but she steered them both back into the Bureau, where ‘macks’ was still spread across the table. She had to admit, it did look delicious, and her stomach gave an agreeing rumble. “Well, I feel better for that midnight constitution,” she said jollily, grabbing a seat and pulling herself in. “Don’t you, Muta?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Mmmm, smacks, my favourite meal of the night.” 

Baron gave her a strange look, and Haru wondered if she was laying the enthusiasm on a bit thick. Then, “You mean macks, don’t you?”

“...Yes?”

Another searching look. She could see the gears whirring through his mind as he put two and two together and realised he had been duped. Then he pointedly retrieved his dictionary and flipped it open to what Haru presumed was the ‘M’ section. 

“Mackem... mackerel... mackintosh... macks...” His finger caught something on the page, and Haru saw the edge of paper curl, dried glue giving up its secrets as he peeled the addition away. “And look, here’s ‘mackle,’ mysteriously hidden beneath the definition for ‘macks’. How peculiar.” He looked up. “Don’t you think, Muta?” 

“I... Uh... Haru ate the last of your birthday cake!”

“MUTA!” Haru gasped. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

“Hey, Chicky, my secret’s out, so so’s yours.”

“You...” Haru felt herself redden and she threw a hand in his direction. “Muta was the one who broke the teapot!”

“She forgot to water your plants last summer and replaced all of them so you wouldn't notice!”

“He brought home the cursed chopping board that nearly ate the Bureau!”

“She’s the one who hid the laser pointer!”

“He got himself employed by a Cat Kingdom smuggling ring!”

“Yeah, well, she...” Muta floundered. “She’s in love with you!”

“WE’RE ALREADY DATING!” Haru roared back.

There was a long, long pause. 

“Wait,” Toto interrupted, who had been happily watching the proceedings until then. “What? Since when?” 

“Uh...” 

“You’ve been dating in secret and didn’t tell us?”

Haru glanced to Baron. “Um, a little help here?”

“A moment, please.” Baron was flicking through the dictionary, apparently entirely oblivious to the turn the conversation had taken. He frowned. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that second breakfast isn’t a thing either?”

“Not unless you’re a hobbit,” Haru replied. She glanced to Muta with a ‘exactly how far did you take this?’ look before returning her attention to Baron. “Um, just how many meals of the day do you think there are?”

“Is the number in the double digits?”

“...No.”

Baron’s face took on a funny sort of expression, his whiskers twitching and his nose wrinkling. “MUTA!”  

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

They Wanna Make Me Their Queen

Summery: Natalya Lebedev, exiled princess of the Court of Bones, has returned to take back the throne that is rightfully hers. Word Count: a little over 1k Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, and death Ghoul belongs to the lovely @capricornrabies​ Tagging: @roseofalderaan​, @capricornrabies​, @littlevodika​, @notreallybeccab​, @colorfulloverbatturkey​

Blood dripped down my face onto my dress, the claw marks on my cheek burning from whatever poison was coated onto my mother’s nails, the sting of it bringing tears to my eyes. We were circling each other, the guards keeping Nyx and her soldiers barred from interfering, knowing I had to be the one to do this. I was trying to listen to where her footsteps were falling so I could figure out where I needed to go to avoid getting hit again, snarling when I felt a foot slam into the back of my leg, bringing me to my knee.

“I don’t know what you thought you could do, Natalya. You’re weak just like your father was,” She hissed in my ear, fingers grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking me to my feet. “You stupid girl, you should have stayed away and just worried about your little fashion empire. That couldn’t have been enough for you though, could it? You have to have it all, you stupid, spoiled brat.”

I sprang while she was talking, grabbing onto her face and jammed my thumbs into her eyes, pushing into them, fighting back the urge to gag at the feeling. She was thrashing in my grip, yanking a fistful of hair from head by the root and clawing at my arms to try to pry me off of her. I let go when I felt I’d done enough damage to blind her, allowing her to back off a bit.

“Now we’re on equal footing, Mother. An eye for an eye,” I spat viciously at her, continuing to push her back, snarling. “And Father wasn’t weak. He actually gave a damn about our people, not just the power of being a King. You couldn’t stand it, could you? That he was so loved by everyone and celebrated while everyone reviled your presence in court, the last born daughter of a lesser noble who couldn’t even hold a seat in court. So you took it out on everyone around you, your own daughter included. You took everything from me and I still made it. You burnt my garden to ashes when I wouldn’t comply with giving it up. You took my sight from me before casting me aside as if I were nothing more than trash, throwing me out of my own home to fend for myself. And yet I survived and I thrived. I made a name for myself in the fashion industry, creating the most popular fashion line that launched me into being a queen of the fashion empire here. I found my mate, a man who is good and kind and everything right in this world. He loves me when you always said I was unlovable and that whoever wound up being my mate would despise my very existence and you were wrong. I won mother. Despite everything you did to me, I came out of it stronger and with far more than I thought possible.” I was coming at her hard, hitting her with everything I had in me and it felt so good to get to tell her how I felt. Kicking her ass up and down the throne room felt pretty great too, if I was being honest. I was finally getting an advantage over her, having had far more time to adjust to being blind, I was able to use it to my advantage, landing blow after blow, beating her into the marble floor.

“I promised you when you had me dragged from this very room that I would come back and take the throne back, that I would make your death as painful as I possibly could. I intend to follow through with that promise, Sveta.” I grabbed her by the front of the dress, easily picking her up and threw her towards the throne, listening to her hit the large, intricately carved dragonbone seat. I would make her suffer for as long as I could before ending it; she deserved that much after the hell she put me through.

“You wouldn’t really kill your own mother, would you? Natalya, stop! We can rule together, mother and daughter running the court!” She was scrambling, trying to bribe me into letting her go. I didn’t bother giving her a reply, it wasn’t worth my time responding to such a desperate attempt to try and save her own skin. I strode towards her pathetic whimpering and stood over her with a vicious growl that emanated from my chest and out through clenched fangs. She hissed in anger and fear when she realized I wasn’t going to budge, her hand coming up and wrapping itself around my throat, squeezing hard, trying to cut off my air supply. My left hand came up and scrambled at her fingers while my other shot forward, puncturing through her chest, my fingers wrapping around her heart and I yanked my arm back out of the cavity I’d left, her still beating heart gripped tightly in my hand.

A sudden flood of bright white light flooded my vision before fading as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me blinking rapidly to try and clear my vision, which was slowly coming back. I stared down at the heart in my hand, black blood coating my bone white skin, dripping to the white floor of the throne room. It was over, finally over. I had won, my mother was dead and I was to be crowned queen in her place.

“Nat?” Nyx ventured cautiously from behind me, worry coloring her voice. I turned slowly to face her, the guards, and the soldiers we’d brought just in case Sveta wouldn’t honor the tradition of fighting one on one for the crown.

“It’s done.” I dropped the heart to the ground, trying to catch my breath, the weight of everything falling from my shoulders. My legs shook as I stood there processing what had happened, my face still burning considerably along with my forearms, blood streaking down my limbs.

“Your Highness,” One of the guards dropped to a knee, one arm behind his back, the other crossed over his chest, head bowed in respect. “We’ll get this mess cleaned up right away and get word out that you’ve returned and have taken the throne where you belong. It is good to have you back, my lady.”

I bowed slightly, watching as he barked orders to the other guards, everyone jumping into action. The handmaidens quickly gathered me up, pushing me towards my old room where they began to help me clean up despite my insistence I was perfectly capable of doing it myself. This was the part of court life I didn’t miss; the constant attention from the handmaidens and the guards constantly watching over my every move. And now that I was Queen, it would only get worse, especially when Ghoul would arrive from his latest mission.

It’s finally over though, I can actually come home and start fresh here. Everything I’ve worked towards has paid off. I would do right by my people and fix everything that had been done. I would make my father proud of me and be the ruler Sveta could never be. I could already hear the people in the streets, cheers echoing through the streets, their celebrations loud and triumphant, the relief palpable even from the palace.

[theonetheycallhannah]

A Mage’s Blood

Summary: Anathema of Velena and Geralt of Rivia meet their match in the center of a city torn apart by a deadly threat.

Pairing: Geralt/OFC (Anathema of Velena)

Word Count: 7k

Rating/Warnings: M for language, and violence. A bit of fluff No smut for now, but stay tuned. Also, warning that it’s stupid long AGAIN! Like why am I so inspired to write about these characters and this story when I can’t work on my own book?! Not fair!

Inspiration: See previous inspo note-nothing has changed!

Author’s Note: Gosh, this story has been so fun for me to write. I’ve loved playing with Geralt, even if some of this maybe isn’t strictly canon for him. I adore the new characters I’ve created, too, as short lived as some of them are. As far as the fight scene at the end, I didn’t go into a lot of detail, so if you have a clear idea of how the monsters in question would look fighting Geralt, I’d be open to a collaboration and a rewrite. For now, reader, please use your imagination. also, she’s not beta’d because, of my three friends who would beta my work, one is too busy, one doesn’t give a fuck about this fandom, and the other thinks I’m cheating on Richard Madden and refuses to contribute to this “dalliance” with Mr. Cavill. lol! so...i read it two or three times and i pray. lol! 

Tags: @fcgrizi @sunflowersstan @mylittlepartofthegalaxy @mstgsmy@lareinedususpense @geekycanuck @lunedelorient and @littlefreya Please let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me not to tag you in things! I will not be offended!

There was cold light hitting the canvas overhead. It was just after dawn. Her internal clock could tell, too. Could feel it in the air pressure and in its chill. Last night the tent had taken on the orange hues of firelight. A passionate, warm light. This was so different. The scent of their union had faded with the starlight, but Anathema could still feel the burn of Geralt inside her. The abrasion of his whiskers where he'd made a meal of her body. All over, really. The evidence of him was everywhere. Everywhere but her bed. She rolled over to see him gone. She sunk deeper into the downy mattress and pillows. So much for the meaning of it all he'd touted before he'd ravaged her, she thought, suddenly bitter. Until she saw his belongings in the corner. She felt the space where he'd laid beside her all night. It was still very warm.

At that point, she heard a kettle whistle across the tent in the makeshift kitchen. She whipped her head around just as the flap in the tent fluttered open, admitting one witcher, holding a bristle brush in one hand, and a bundle of herbs in the other.

"Morning." he greeted, a warm, and very content smile on his face.

"Morning." she was shy, and somewhat awkward. She couldn't figure why. This man had lain her bare. What had she to be embarrassed about around him? She made herself continue with confidence, even if it was forced and sounded less than authentic. "Did you sleep well?"

"I, uh, suppose so, yes." she looked confused. "Witchers don't really sleep in the traditional sense that often. It hadn't been that long since I slept, so last night, I rested and recuperated my body by meditation. I mixed up a few potions, which always require some meditation to set. And just before dawn, I came out to feed and water the horses. I walked them around the water a bit so they could drink and get some of the tasty clover that tends to grow there. And I found some fool's parsley." He held up the bundle in his hand to show her." When we got back I put the kettle on for some tea and was brushing them when I heard it singing." He indicated the kettle with the brush in his dominant hand.

He was leaving something out. His space on the mattress wouldn't be so warm if he'd been gone that long.

"Your place in the bed is still warm, Geralt." she raised a brow at him.

"Ah," he said pouring the boiling water over the gauzy pouches in the cups he'd set out, "yes, well…I wanted to be next to you for a while before you woke. Your breathing when you sleep is a bit hypnotic. Did you know? You have a tendency to…moan." She blushed furiously. She hadn't really known, but had her suspicions something was…off about her…snore, as her mother called it. Her friends, such as she had, were never allowed to sleepover, nor was she allowed to visit them for such frivolity. She had thought at first her mother was just being cruel, because her sisters got to go to their friends homes all the time for overnight visits. But she sometimes awoke from light sleeps to a moaning sound that could only have been herself, as she was alone in her room. This made her think that perhaps her mother did her one small mercy in avoiding public scorn, no matter her motives, which were probably self-serving on some level.

"Oh, uh…I didn't think to warn you." She muttered apologetically. He sat his wares down and walked to her, knowing that she needed comfort, but confused as to why.  He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, raking each knuckle along her petal-soft skin.

"You sound ashamed, Ana."

"I guess it's in my blood." she looked down. Laying into the feeling. He took her chin in his hand and wouldn't let her.

"No." he protested roughly. "It's in your past." He leveled his ember gaze at her, stealing her breath, but not for any salacious reasons. This was poignancy at its most rarefied from Geralt of Rivia. "Just because we bear the scars of our pasts doesn't mean we must also carry the weapons that cut them into our flesh." he wiped a tear from her cheek. "Once we stop carrying them, those scars they made can heal so much more easily. And they can't hurt us anymore." He smiled at her. "Mind you, I'm still working on this, and have yet to master it."

"It's still good advice. It's the right advice. And I needed to hear it." she pulled him close and leaned her head on his firm stomach. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and cradled her head in his massive hand.

"I think we all do from time to time." he paused, she felt him take a few breaths in and out. "Whether we heed it or not. It's…filed away somewhere. And we can take it out and live by it when we're ready."

They stayed like that for some time. Their tea chilling on the table. Neither of them terribly interested any longer in anything but the warmth of the other. Eventually they broke apart realizing that they had a purpose here on the outskirts of this now obliterated kingdom. Deeply sighing, they looked at one another.

"I should dress." she heard his chest make a deep rumble in mild protest. "Come, now, we have a monster to find, Geralt. Trust me, though, the sentiment is shared and reciprocated." She stood up on the mattress so she was about a head above him, and kissed his forehead, then proceeded to hop down, nude as a bird, pretending that his eyes on her didn't make her want to haul the blankets over her head and walk around like a ghoul until she decided what she would wear today. But she refrained, allowing herself to be bare and to try to just be comfortable with it. He turned, reluctantly going back to the duty of preparing the horses to break camp.

She twisted her hair into it's standard coil high on her head after donning one of the new outfits Giltine had conjured up for her. She felt almost unstoppable in the two piece crimson number. The neck was wide, showing off her shoulders and neckline. The sleeves would have been generous even had they not been slit open on top and held together at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists by jeweled buttons to match and coordinate. Red, black, and brown gems sparkled in the small settings as she tested the flow of the majestic sleeves. It fastened fitted in a wrap around her midriff. The slacks were of the same fabric and color and could have passed for a skirt. They were high waisted, almost meeting the blouse, ankle length, and flowing like an evening gown as she walked. Knowing there was also an element of danger possible, Giltine had fashioned her a simple, but elegant leather jerkin to wear over her torso. It featured several long and wide strips of deep brown leather running from the top hem to the bottom and lacing at the side running through bronze grommets. The one embellishment he’d made was a small sunburst embroidered on her left hip. “Warriors always have their crests or symbols embroidered on their dominant sides. I thought I’d give you an edge and confuse them. Make anyone who might attack you go for your strong side.” He’d explained. She truly appreciated the thoughtful gesture. Overall, the body armor was ideal. It curved where she did, and didn't pinch or poke where it shouldn't. It wasn't meant to hold anything in. It was meant to keep things out.

She swathed on a touch of color to her face, minimal at best, tied up her weathered brown riding boots and went out to see how close to ready Geralt was.

He was brushing Clove now, Roach gleaming in the morning light with his own freshly brushed coat. Both horses were nibbling contently on the grass below them as Geralt explained about the different varieties of vampiric nemesis.

"While the fleders can stun ya good, alps and bruxae will downright get into your head before they drain you. They're just more powerful. And I…" he trailed off when his eyes met her, appraising the new look with clear, if subtle approval. Her arrival ceased his grooming motions, as well, which Clove vehemently protested in the form of a petulant whinny.

"I don't think she appreciated you stopping. And I'll have to admit, knowing the power of both your touch and your voice, I don't blame her in the least. By all means, continue your lecture…professor." she half teased, as she stepped up to her horse to scratch her chin as she liked. That calmed her down considerably.

"Ah," he replied, "I tend to…think out loud…around horses…and it sounds like…okay, I fucking talk to my horse."

"I'm the same. Clove here was an excellent listener on the ride from Aretuza. I'm sure she won't tell anyone my secrets." she smiled up into the mahogany orbs, patting the mare's cheek affectionately.

"So the horse knows you better than I?" Geralt raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in accusation.

"Now, Geralt, you mustn't be cross. We just met. I've been riding Clove for almost a week now."

"So how long will you have to ride me before I know all of your secrets?" he teased, she scoffed in shocked amusement.

"I have never!" she was speechless. Not expecting him to twist her words like that. "I…I need to finish breaking this campsite down. It's approaching mid morning. We have so much still to do!" she hurried about, blushing furiously, taking up the tent stakes and checking for lost or abandoned items. She heard Geralt laugh behind her. And shout "You look beautiful, by the way." to which she squinted back a very satisfied smile, and shouted at him "thank you," while her back was still to him. She also thought she heard him ask "Is she always like this?" and she was certain a very affirmative whinny came from Clove. Traitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In less than a half an hour, they were saddled up and mounted with all of their supplies. Geralt had donned his sturdy and studded leather armor today. The sun caught the steel studs in the leather, as well as the silver wolf medallion on his neck. He had never taken it off, and her spell last night to doff his clothes hadn't affected it. It normally worked on jewelry.

"That medallion you wear?" she began. "What magic does it poses?" she asked as they road nearer the fallen city.

He worried it in his hand for a moment, then put it down, and tried his best to answer her.

"I can't really say. It was imbued by the magicians of Kaer Morhen. All I do is tune it to whatever frequency I want it to pick up for me. Magic or monster." He looked at her, his eyebrows raised to her look of dissatisfied confusion, but he did not go on. She continued her questions.

“So…it senses magic and monsters?”

“Yes, that’s why I was able to come to your aid last night, actually. As we were riding by your camp, I felt it start to…sort of shiver. It knew the drowners were close. When I looked around and saw you there ready to face them on your own, apparently with just your dagger…I couldn’t let you die. And at the time, I was sure that would be your fate.”

She relived the event, which she should have found terrifying, she guessed, but either she was too confident in her abilities, or her adrenaline had won out.

“Lucky for me you were riding by and had it tuned to monsters.” She smiled.

“I usually do unless I’m in a safe area and actively searching for something magical. And lucky for me you noticed I’d grabbed the wrong sword!” He grinned back at her.

They rode along through the streets of the deserted city for a while in amiable if not comfortable silence. But the question pressed against Anathema's mind, trying to escape like pressure in your ears on a deep dive into water.

"So, it's probably no business of mine, so you're not obligated to tell me, but I do have to ask…last night you mentioned having your reservations about mages and travelling companions. Why is that?"

"Hmm. You're correct. It is no business of yours." She felt a sting at his coarseness until he continued. "And while you're right, I'm not obligated to share that with you, there are a few reasons that I'm going to give you a little background."

"Are you going to tell me the reasons, or just, start with the exposition?" she teased. He shot her a playful scowl.

"I think the reasons will become apparent as I explain, but feel free to ask at the end."

"Proceed."

"I should probably start many years ago when I first met the mage in question. Her name may be familiar to you. Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"You…you know…Yennefer? THE Yennefer of Vengerberg? She's the most powerful sorceress to come from Aretuza since the Lady de Vries herself!" Ana was shocked. To her core.

"I know her. I know her well, Ana." he looked at her pointedly, implying the sort of carnal knowledge with which she was only recently familiar. Oh.

"I see." she nodded. Coolly, but silently simmering with questions and a sort of confusing jealousy that pulled her in many directions. He continued.

"So, I met Yen when my former travelling companion became cursed by a Djinn. I needed a mage's help to break the enchantment or he would die. It's a long story, but…the general point was that she wanted the djinn's power for herself, which would not have worked. Through the whole process, Yen and I became…sort of, bound by fate…destiny…some might say."

She tried to process the fact that he called her Yen. He had pet names for the woman she so idolized.

"Our paths crossed several times since then, lastly on a mission that Jaskier, my companion--and friend, although I've been reluctant to call him that because of how ill the term suits me--was very keen to take until he learned of her involvement, knowing the…effect she had on me." this piqued her curiosity, but she filed it away for later inquiry.

"The campaign went fairly well until its very end, when, through a string of unhappy circumstances, Yennefer found out that the reason for our constantly being thrown across one another's paths was something less than destiny, after all." he paused for effect, which worked, and then continued.

"Back when we'd first met, and she was trying to imprison the djinn within her, she had no idea that I was the one to whom the creature was bound to grant it's three requests. She'd thought it was Jaskier. I had too, until I found out the contrary, in rather spectacular fashion." he reminisced, another question she would queue for later. "So for my last wish, I asked for her life to be bound to mine. When she found out…she was…well, she was pissed. And she stormed off, assuring me that I'd lost her, as I was unwilling to do." he looked down to Roach's black mane and scratched it to soothe his huffing that had began. Horses were so perceptive to the moods of their riders.

"Her leaving had left me…particularly surly." she raised her eyebrows. Surly was his default, she had gathered already, so for him to be even more surly than his normal self was actually a bit frightening. "Jaskier had sensed I was…cross. And as a bard, talking about things helped him. Despite years of riding with me, he never quite managed to grasp that I was not built that way. I wanted to be left the fuck alone. And when he tried to engage with me, I snapped. I blamed him for all my misfortunes. When in fact, a great many of them, he tried to steer me away from. I fear I may have broken his heart."

There were a few moments of silence for Ana to process Geralt's confession and for Geralt to recover himself from finally talking about this difficult event which, she gathered he really hadn't relived much, save for discussing with Roach, perhaps.

"So that's why I've been reluctant recently to associate with mages or take another companion. And why one combined, you may be able to tell could be a very complex idea for me."

She nodded. Geralt was, perhaps in love, for lack of a better word, with Yennefer, and she had left him because of this…misunderstanding. Which, yes, she could see where she was justified, and where Geralt should have mentioned this fact as it affected both of them much sooner. Being in Yennefer's shoes, she may have done the same.

Regarding his companion and bard, Jaskier, who he clearly felt a kinship and affection for, and maybe even an actual love, she was heartbroken for him. Saying goodbye to Codrick had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. He was the only real family she'd ever had. And her feelings for him were so complex. But she was sure if she'd hurt him like Geralt had hurt Jaskier, she would feel a regret of similar intensity.

"What are you thinking, little mage?" he coaxed after several moments of only muddy clops, skittering rodents, and shrieking crows.

"I was thinking about how I'd feel in your situation." she answered truthfully and thoughtfully. "I've mentioned my friend Codrick before, I know, and I think I had similar feelings for him as you had for both Jaskier and Yennefer. He was my closest confidant and he cared more for me than anyone else, including my family. And…for lack of a better way to describe it, I was in love with him. Or I felt like I was. It would never have worked. He was promised to Claretta, the fishmonger's daughter. Even though she could never give him what I could. Or that's what I told myself. I utterly worshipped him. I couldn't have had my fill of him had I spent my every waking hour with him. He was just so pleasant and kind. Easy. And just the man I thought I wanted. But my father wasn't interested in arranging a marriage for the family rat, anymore than Codrick's father saw me as a proper match for his future blacksmith son."

She let that sink in. The idea that she was the only one who could have pictured a future for her and Codrick and let the grief pass. Let something die that had never lived. And moved on.

"Had I lost him in the way that you lost either Yen or Jaskier, Geralt…well, I'd probably be about ready to give up on the idea of love and friendship, myself. Hell, even now, I'm aching just remembering the last time I saw Codrick, and thinking about how long it may be before I see him again. It may be forever. In all probability, it will be. But at least I don't have your regret. I said all I needed to say to him. I told him how I felt, even though it didn't change anything about our futures. I would have regretted those unspoken words."

"Well, aren't you a comfort. You're really making me glad I agreed to this partnership." he bit at her with sarcastic cheer in his gruff voice.

"Oh, Geralt, don't take it like that. I didn't mean--"

"Shh." he held up a hand to stop her talking.

"Don't think you'll get the last word just because--"

"Shhhhh!" he repeated more vehemently and drew his silver sword. "Silver." he whispered, and she drew her silver dagger from it's scabbard at her hip and her steel sword still coated in silver oil. The horses then began sensing something in the air. Something sinister. They began to buck and whinny, especially Clove, who was not used to monsters like Roach was.

"I think we should go on foot a while. Roach will always find me, so there's no need to tie him up. What about Clove?" Geralt rasped.

"Got it covered." Ana whispered before muttering an unintelligible incantation with a hand outstretched toward each of their mounts. They took their leave of them with loving pats, and looked after them fondly for a moment.

"What did you do?" Geralt asked, curious.

"Quick protection spell for them both. And I bound them to one another. So when Roach comes back to you, Clove will come back to me." She worried telling him might bring up his past with Yennefer again, but…he asked. He grunted. But thanked her.

"Don't worry. I'm not judging you at all for the way you behaved to…the people you…lost." she tried to comfort. He was not interested at the moment.

"Just now, I'm a bit more concerned about us getting drained by a Bruxa. Maybe we can continue that discussion later, Ana." he growled at her. They drew closer to one another and advanced in a natural tandem maneuver toward the city's center. Geralt watched where they were going, Ana where they had been, and they each took in as much of their periphery as they could. Birds took flight from long-held nests and rodents retreated to safer dens as the witcher and the mage slowly worked their way inward. To the danger. And Ana hoped not to their death.

A blood curdling scream came from one of the hovels just outside the palace walls. Ana turned to look at Geralt who paused to smell the air, grasped his medallion to check for monsters, and raced off toward the obvious peril. Great. Now she had to, as well. She wondered if being on journeys with Geralt meant running toward danger more often than not and if perhaps Yennefer and Jaskier weren't a tad better off outside his company.

But then she found him in the small shack. One pitiful room that was all things to a family of gods knew how many. Now held one small, filthy little girl, who couldn't have been aged more than eight. The hovel was covered in the evidence of a bloody attack, but no corpses. This little child was all that was left. And she looked like she'd just awoken from the grandfather of all nightmares. Her eyes were wider than coins, and dark with fear, pupils dominating the hazel irises ringing them. Eyes bloodshot. The poor thing had scarcely slept, probably in days. Geralt held her to his chest, kneeling to her height to do so. Her hair was dark, by the look, although it had clearly been a very long time since her last bath, if she'd ever even had a proper one in such a place.

Geralt shushed and soothed her. Petting her filthy hair and holding her tight, as if she were his own, which she knew to be impossible.

"There there, shhh. It's alright, girl. Everything is going to be alright. You're safe with us. Don't cry. I've got you. Hush now, child. Sh-sh-sh." perhaps the skill with horses had transferred to children. Perhaps witchers learned this sort of thing in their training. She just knew she did not. But he was terribly good at it.

"There, now, that's better, isn't it?" she nodded, still whimpering a bit. "What's your name, child?" he asked, kindly. More kindly than Ana had ever heard anyone ask anything. Let alone Geralt speak, save for some choice moments last night…

"Geeta." she said, shyly.

"Geeta. What a pretty name. Pretty name for a pretty girl." he smiled and pinched her chin. She blushed furiously. "Tell me Geeta, do you know anything about what happened in the town? Why isn't there anyone here?"

"They…the women…came!" terror flooded Geeta's big eyes along with the fearful tears of the haunted.

"What women, Geeta?" he asked her, a knowing concern in his deep voice. They both knew. But still hoped they were wrong.

"They came, in the night, they didn't have clothes, their eyes were red, and their hair was dark…and…the singing!" she bellowed in tears, reliving the night that the Bruxae laid waste to her city.

"There, there, child. They're gone now. You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you now." Geralt soothed her. "Where did you see them, child?"

"First, out there," she pointed out the window. "Then…" she looked tearfully around the room at the walls, which were spattered with something that, although now was brown, had once been deep red. Her family, however many of them there had been, had met their doom right here and she had somehow survived. What a strong little thing she was.

"Oh, little one." Geralt cradled the girl against him as if he was the one who needed comfort, and not she. Ana had given up holding back her own tears and let them fall freely down her lovely face. What would become of this poor waif, orphaned by monsters, her entire community wiped out by a blood-thirsty coven of Bruxae, and rescued by two of the least equipped and prepared people possible to care for her. Well, she shouldn't speak for Geralt. He was clearly killing the parenting thing. Regardless, if she came with them, she would be in perpetual danger. But then again, she'd come away from her last encounter with the she-beasts physically unscathed. Geeta may fit in swimmingly with the emotionally unstable duo.

Geralt looked up, hearing something with his mutant ears that the other two could not. Both of the females could, however, pick up on his spike in adrenaline and blood pressure at the sound, and his complete change in demeanor.

He held Geeta firmly by her shoulders and commanded her fullest attention.

"Now, Geeta, I need you to tell me, how have you kept yourself hidden from the monsters since…since that night? Is there somewhere safe in here?"

She pointed to the corner of the kitchen area where there was a cupboard, small, but well large enough for a seven-year-old child. And it soon became evident why she'd been safe there. A silver tray hung decoratively on the outside, apparently a family heirloom and not used daily.

"That's very good, sweetheart. Now, this is my friend Ana. And she and I are going to be out here practicing some fighting so we're good and ready for when we need to fight the monsters. It's very important so that we don't hit you by accident that you stay in there no matter what you hear. Don't come out until one us comes to get you. Do you understand?" she nodded. "Tell me what you're going to do for me."

"I'm going to stay in my cupboard while you and Ana practice fight, and I won't come out no matter what until you get me.

"There's a good girl. Now, get in there, and shut the door, nice and tight. And try to be quiet too, so you don't distract us. And here, I bet you're hungry." He winked at her, handing her an apple, a loaf of bread, and a small wedge of cheese he'd had in his satchel. Such a sweet moment when something so scary was afoot.

Once the child was safe and secure, the adults could properly panic.

"Geralt…what the fuck…are we going to do? How are we supposed to fight off a whole coven of Bruxae?! I've never even seen ONE!"

"I know," he said, grumbling in agitated fear, but holding on, she thought, for her, perhaps. "Bruxae are very rare, which, we should see as a mercy, but also, we are never as prepared for them as we could be if they were as common as bloedzuigers."

“So how do we do this?” Ana asked, stifling her own fear and apprehension about this battle.

“Well, we have a couple of options. We could leave. I can have Roach and Clove here in five minutes, we could abandon this quest, which almost seems doomed from the outset, forget the reasons we came here and just live for…” there was a pregnant pause where he said so much while saying absolutely nothing . “For the moment, I guess.” And she was ready to hear “themselves” or “each other.” But he couldn’t say it, apparently.

“And our other options?”

“You could take Geeta and run."

"Huh…I know we've only known each other a short time, Geralt, but I didn't have you pegged as a jester." Ana replied to his suggestion, entirely non-plussed and unamused.

"I'm not joking, Anathema. You two have a shot now while the Bruxae are far enough away that you can't hear them, but once you can, it will be unlike anything you have encountered before. It will hurt, physically and emotionally."

"It's not happening; I'm not leaving you to tend with gods know how many Bruxae on your own! You'd never survive, Geralt! THAT is what would hurt me physically and emotionally!"

"And if you're hurt during the fight?" he countered. "What of me? Hmm?" he stood there, panting at her in a panicked rage, eyes wide, nostrils flared. "If I get you killed--"

"Stop right there. You are not responsible for me. I insisted on being here in the first place, and it is by my own agency and accord I remain. If I die, you are to feel no guilt or responsibility. Understand?"

"Hmph." he assented, back to non-verbal replies. At least it was something. "I still don't have a plan of attack."

"Well, I may have some thoughts on that. I don't think we SHOULD attack them."

~~~~~~~~~

Ana had been marginally familiar with Bruxae prior to today, but had never encountered one. In theory, though, she knew their weaknesses from a mage's standpoint and what she could do to give Geralt an advantage. Geralt had a few signs in his arsenal that would be effective on them, as well as his silver sword. He didn't have time to mix any extra potions, but he had a small vial of Black Blood, which would make him toxic to any Bruxa who bit him, and a few extra vials of Kiss, Swallow, Tawny Owl, and some others. She knew a detoxifying spell that would help him recover from taking extra potions, and as an extra precaution, although it wouldn't be as effective as pure silver, he used some of her silver oil on his steel sword. He would be able to fight with both hands, at least for a while, this way, and do more damage. She re-oiled her steel sword, and had her silver dagger at the ready. She also rubbed a bit of the oil around the door handles and window latches and frames, in case they tried the house, where she would be providing ranged support under cover. She'd fortified the hovel with her enchantments, just as she had the campsite and tent the previous evening, as well as a few extras that she hadn't thought of then that might help today.

She could hear them now, faint and distant, but still began to feel a twist in the pit of her stomach. She also wanted to cry, but she didn't know why.

"They're getting closer. Here. This will help." he pulled out a large bundle of cotton tinder from his satchel, tore it in half, and gave it to her. "Roll a bit up and pack it into your ears. It won't get rid of the symptoms entirely, but if you keep your mind on something that makes you happy, the pain shouldn't steal your focus from the fighting." she looked at him, smirking.

"What?" he asked, the shadow of what could have been a darling grin if it just tried a bit harder passed his face.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Just…wondering what makes a witcher happy enough to drown out the song of the Bruxa?" she smirked at him as he ran a whetstone over his silver sword.

"Oh, plenty, little mage." he allowed himself to show the faintest smile as he sharpened his blade with that satisfying sllllllank. "We witchers live for bloodshed, you know. Once the fighting starts, I may not even need this cotton. I'll be in such a splendid mood, I'll be able to take the Bruxa song undiluted." He had found his sense of humour. Thank the gods.

"What about you? Thinking about stealing your blacksmith away from his fishmonger's daughter, little mage? Is that going to be your happy place?" he asked, checking the blade he'd just sharpened, finding it satisfactory, and asking wordlessly for Ana's silver dagger to do next.

She let out a huge sigh indicating her thoughtfulness on the matter as she handed him her weapon. If you'd asked her the same question last week, she would have said yes in a heartbeat. But now…after last night…even though it was foolish, perhaps, her happy place was sitting across from her in the desecrated hovel sharpening her dagger for battle. She didn't even have the heart to tell him that she could do it with magic so much more quickly. But he'd kind of stolen her heart, this big, grumpy oaf with a heart of gold.

"Well, Ana? Are you going to ride back into Velena, turn your rival into a trout and take that boy for your own, or aren't you?"

"Hahaha, well, it's most tempting, and if we make it out of this alive, I'll call it an option. But, umm, no, I don't think that's my happy place." she looked at him, squaring off with his gaze, unable to look away, but unable to speak her truth now. It would hold too much weight now, with a battle so near with such an uncertain outcome, that speaking her peace seemed…both overly sentimental and a bad omen.

Speaking of bad omens, the Bruxae were getting closer, their sickening song getting louder.

"I'm going to get into position. Are you ready?" they both stood, nerves causing them both as much unease as the Bruxa song, and for which no amount of cotton would ever help.

"I'm ready." she responded. Ready for it to be over, she thought.

"Good. One more thing." he added. He stood before her and pulled her to him in the most warm and filling hug he could have managed, armor or not, and then kissed her so deeply, thoroughly, and lovingly that she saw stars.

"Remember, don't give yourself away too early. Try to pick off the outliers and portal them away so the body count doesn't draw attention. And be safe."

"Don't forget to give the signal when you need me to detox you. And don't be a hero and wait until you're on the verge. Let's keep your toxicity low and manageable. I'd rather cast my spell a dozen times when you're more or less okay than have to worry about you passing out because you've only asked me twice. And you be safe, too."

“Be safe” seemed to translate into something more meaningful. He picked up his swords and headed out the door.

She held it together well as he left her. Fought back the tears with a valiant effort until she turned to the small crate on which he’d lain her dagger…and his wolf medallion. How did she miss him taking it off? She’d hardly had her eyes off him the whole time they were strategizing. Her eyes filled with tears now. She picked up a small note that was tucked under the hilt of the dagger. It read:

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m going to want this back after the fight. -G”

As messy as the scrawl was, the G was rather elegant and ornate, by comparison. She pressed the note to her lips and tucked it into her jerkin, near her heart. She slipped the medallion over her neck and chuckled. The wolf, which normally rested high between Geralt’s meaty pecs, now hung halfway to her belly button. He was so thick and broad. She'd barely noticed last night. There was hardly time. She regretted it now, not memorizing everything about him. The very shape of him. Every curve and ripple. Every plane and divot. If they got out of here, she'd be sure to do that. They'd make love at least once more before they parted ways and she'd see to it to document every perfect inch of him.

She was stunned out of her reverie by a shiver emanating from Geralt's medallion. The Bruxae were getting closer, but weren't singing. At least not loudly. She felt bad for wearing the medallion, which she felt was one of Geralt's best advantages over them. It helped maintain the element of surprise. But he must have had his reasons. Maybe he thought she needed the silver more than he did. It hardly mattered now, as the decision was long made and unchangeable.

He stood in the middle of the city street, eyes closed, listening, breathing in the crisp chill of the dusk. A Bruxa could function in the light of day, but they preferred the night. They were stronger outside the reach of the sun. Geralt thrust his steel sword into the dirt in front of him, downed the vial of Black Blood potion, and took a knee, casting Quen around him to protect himself from their imminent descent. He held his silver sword in line with his spine, hoping to deflect a few of the more timid creatures and make them easier for Ana to pick off. As they entered the street from above, floating in as if they were spores on a breeze, they began to test the shield around Geralt. It was the gold of pure sunlight, but didn't seem to cause them discomfort. Only curiosity. There came about 14 in total, Ana counted.

Their skin was almost like looking straight at the moon and each had hair so black, it was barely visible against the night sky. Their eyes were like rubies, and blood red, as were the tips of their fingers, if that’s what they could be called. It was as though talons, sharp and pointed as knitting needles grew from their hands. As Geeta had reported, they were completely nude, and had they not been so terrifying, Ana thought they may have been beautiful. Perhaps they were, once.

She started to portal them out of the hot zone as Geralt's shield weakened, and to the rooftops across the street…the top halves to one building, and the bottom halves to another. She'd been able to take out no less than five when the dwindling numbers were noticed by the others. They began to shriek in earnest and the Quen shield began to flicker, giving out under Geralt's new stress from the song, only partially blocked by the cotton tinder he'd packed into his ears.

He spun into motion now, drawing the steel from the ground and thrashing with both swords at the she-beasts as they advanced on him. He caught limbs on some, and drew blood on others, but it was not enough to take them down. He took a moment to cast Quen again so that he could safely take some more potions. Ana would later deduce that he took Kiss to rejuvenate him and Blizzard to increase his reaction time. He also signaled Ana to hit him with her detox spell. A good plan, and almost too late, three potions in. She'd have to watch him more closely if he was going to hold out like that.

Ana continued to pick off the Bruxa outliers, as Geralt cut down the ones that he could until they were down to just two.

They were clearly the strongest ones and Ana couldn't get to them before one was sinking her teeth into Geralt's neck. Ana felt her stomach drop. She didn't want the Black Blood to come into play…even if it would be effective. She heard him mutter a "fuck" as he struggled to staunched the bleeding wound. The dying Bruxa had also dropped him on his ample arse as she was gasping for breath through inky, sputtering lips. She had gotten a heroic measure of Geralt's tainted lifeforce, and was now paying the price. Ana smirked. Served the monster right, she thought. Until she heard the most chilling cry of all.

"SISTEEEEEEEEEEEER!" The last surviving Bruxa rushed to the one clinging for life in the dirty streets of the city they had eviscerated, red tears streaming from red eyes down a chalk pale face. "Shay! Shay, my sister! Do not leave me!" Ana almost felt pity. She'd had sisters, after all. And she loved them. As they did her, in their way.

"Meena…Meena, I'm cold." Shay, the dying Bruxa uttered and breathed her last.

"You MONSTER!" Meena, the last Bruxa of the coven spat at Geralt.

"You're one to talk." he chided her, having none of it.

"All we desired was the girl. But we couldn't find her. She hid from us. She hides still. Her blood is the cure."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Geralt was confused. Good. Ana was certainly confused, as well.

"We were cursed and a Mage's blood is the only cure. The little girl who lives in this hovel was the only conduit for leagues that my sisters and I could find. We needed her blood. But these…humans…wouldn't give her up."

Ana was piecing it all together now. That silver platter was no accident. Geeta was like her, and her parents were protecting her…in a cupboard…the irony was so rich, Ana could scarcely process it. And now, this Bruxa wanted to drink her blood to…what, become normal again? Would any mage's blood do? She was guessing. Ana was about to do something very heroic…or very stupid…the two, she knew, were often only distinguished by purpose and outcome.

"What about me?" Ana asked as she stepped out into the street from the small home.

"Ana! NO!" Geralt shouted at her.

Meena hissed in Ana's direction, startled by the appearance of a new adversary. "Who are you?"

"I'm Anathema of Velena. I'm a mage. And much better equipped to sustain a bite than the poor little girl you've been hunting." she stood her ground with a proud strength, unafraid of the demoness before her.

"I don't see why it would hurt to try." Meena laughed cruelly in her throat and darted toward her.

The rest, was a very dark, cold, and rather bumpy blur.

Parts 2 and 3 coming soon!

[adistantstarblog]

Halloween Happenstance

(Clextober 2019)

Apparently sometime this morning, Octavia had stuck bat stickers all over her bedroom mirror. She knew that her room-mate was teasing her about her costume of choice this year.

Staring in the mirror and trying to see through all the stickers, Clarke used it to glance behind her to her black cat lounging on her bed, “ 'tis the season,” she muttered to him. It was Halloween, and maybe that saying was technically formed for Christmas because of the song and all. But hey, to her it sounded good. But her cat just meowed at her, as though disgusted with her choice of costume, and rolled over on the bed.

Dressed head to toe in an authentic looking black Cat-Woman suit, complete with velvet ears crowning her blonde hair, Clarke turned around and put her hands on her hips, “what? You think I should have gone with Harley?” No answer from her cat, of course. And Octavia had pushed for Harley too. But everyone did that. She thought. Not that her choice was much less prolific but at least she hoped she didn’t run into someone else wearing it five times at the same party tonight. Her cat sat nothing of course, “thanks for your help.” she laughed. And shook her head. The party was in fifteen minutes. She had a plate full of pumpkin shaped cookies to take with her, but she still had no idea where it was at except at a friend of Octavia’s house. She was waiting to hear from her, and at that exact moment, her phone rang in her purse.

Clarke ran and grabbed it from the bed, digging through it until she pulled the phone out. Checking the number she saw it was Octavia’s and she answered it fast, “yeah?”

“Is that all?” her friend demanded, “yeah??”

“Yeah,” Clarke said back, “I mean, it's in fifteen minutes. Are you there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m….” Octavia giggled, her voice sounded garbled a minute and Clarke could tell her friend was leaning away from the phone to call out to someone. It made her wrinkle her forehead and asked,

“Octavia are you already drunk?”

“Mighta had...one or three beers,” Octavia chuckled.

“Great.” Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, “and the party hasn’t even started yet.”

“Not until you get here, babe.” Octavia happily agreed. Clarke knew that Raven was going to be their driver tonight. But Octavia apparently got an early start.

“Well,” Clarke reminded with a laugh, “I kind of need the address…”

“Oh yeah!” Octavia started giggling. Clarke heard her throw back another drink, “completely forgot. Its….”

-=-

Her house was packed wall-to wall with people. Some of them, Lexa didn’t even know. But the music was loud, and lights were flashing, as she squeezed through people wearing Halloween costumes that ranges from princesses to ghouls and everything in between. Trying to balance a plate of drinks on her hand she wasn’t watching where she was going and nearly tripped on the end of a mummy’s wrap that was trailing on the floor,

“Hey, Bat-girl!” the mummy, Anya, whipped about, teasing her about her costume again. Lexa had worn it because she liked the fact she could hide her eyes behind a mask. And she got to wear leather. That worked for her. Not to mention, Bat-girl had been a childhood favorite. And she was tired as going as part of a pairing with Anya or any of her other friends. She went ‘stag’ this year, so to speak. And maybe was hoping to pick up a girl too. Not that she’d admit that to her sister or anyone.

Annoyed at her choice to go it alone without a twinsy-possible costume,  Anya had chosen a traditional mummy suit; leaving her head was unwrapped, her hair intentionally messy and dark bruises were painted onto her face, “Lex! Watch out, will you. You almost pulled my costume off…you don’t want to see that, I tell ya.” she grabbed one of the drinks off the tray and tossed it down, nearly oblivious to the red-head dressed like a dead fairy hanging from her arm. Anya seemed to remember her suddenly and turned to kiss her head, “hey gorgeous.” she muttered.

“An, I want to dance….” the girl whined at her.

With a grin on her face, Anya put the drink back on Lexa’s plate and took the redhead's face in her hands and kissed her lips, “sure thing, babe…” pulling the girl away right as the doorbell rang Anya shouted back, “get that, will ya!” Might be our pizzas!” she vanished into the crowds and the doorbell rang again.

Everyone was there, so Lexa thought Anya was probably right. And they were almost out of the pizzas they had ordered and this would be the second round. Not wanting to miss them Lexa put down her plate, dug for her wallet, and half-dashed half squeezed through the party and whipped open the door, “hi, thanks…” Lexa went through her wallet quickly as she could trying to find the right bills and a decent tip. Yanking them out, she was expecting to find a delivery person standing there with ten boxes of pizza… not a gorgeous a gorgeous blonde in a catsuit holding a tray of cookies. She stared. Her mouth going slack as her knees weakened at the sight of her, “wow…” the word was out before Lexa could stop it. She couldn’t stop from staring either.

“Hi…” blonde cat-woman seemed hesitant, “I'm ...here for the party?”

“Oh!” Lexa got it together, or tried to. Her fingers fumbled as she stuffed her money back in her wallet, “Oh right!” she tucked the wallet away and opened the door wider to let the gorgeous blonde Cat-woman in, “I’m Lexa.”

“Clarke.” Cat-woman smiled and stepped into her house.

“Clarke…” the name rolled off Lexa’s lips so easily as she shut the door to follow Clarke into the crowd, “the uh...the uh ...refreshment table! Yeah..it's right over there.” She pointed the way. Lexa could tell it was Clarke’s first time here, and she wondered who she had heard about the party with. But right now, Lexa had to move fast. Because Clarke was turning heads everywhere she went. Lexa shot a glare at Niylah for checking Clarke out and Niylah quickly paled and turned back to the witch she was chatting with. In the little exchange, Lexa had lost sight of Clarke and quickly whipped her gaze through the crowds to find her again. Thankfully she was already by the punch-bowl, which gave Lexa the perfect opening.

She moved over quickly to where Clarke just set the cookies down and was reaching for the cheap plastic skull shaped cups, “would you?” Lex asked, getting her attention again, her pulse speeding up on its on the minute Clarke looked up and their eyes met again, “would you like a drink?”

“Please.” Clarke nodded at her. And Lexa grinned, and reached forward and fumbled with the ladle but got the drink into the glass and handed it across, “its ..its punch. Its tropical I guess. We didn’t know what flavor to get. But anyway. Anya spiked it earlier and I thought I’d warn you cause…” she was rambling, and bit her lips together to shut herself up, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep from doing something else stupid in front of Clarke. Across the room, she saw they caught Anya’s attention and Anya was cracking up. Lexa blushed and bit her lip. She would get back at her sister later.

“Its okay,” Clarke spoke up, as though she hadn’t noticed the glare between herself and Anya, “spiked is fine.”

Lexa whipped her gaze around, “really??”

“Oh yeah,” Clarke laughed and took another drink, “its half the fun of it. Nice party going on here, by the way?”

“Thanks.” Lexa grinned ear to ear. Clarke was open to conversation. That was always good.

“Whoever owns this place knows how to throw a party,” Clarke spoke up.

“We hope.” Lexa nodded, and grabbed one of Clarke’s cookies. She bit into it and it was so good, she had to remember her manners and not cram the whole frosted thing into her mouth in front of a girl she just met and was very attracted to. What would that look like? She must have failed though because Clarke chuckled softly,

“Do you like them?” she asked after the cookies.

“Oh,” Lexa turned red, “I do. Did you make them?”

Clarke nodded, “have another.”

“Thanks,” she grabbed another cookie and a cup from the table and filled it up because she was pretty sure she was going to need it. As she bit into the cookie and started to wash it down with the drink out of the corner of her eye she saw Clarke glancing around the room, “have you seen Octavia?”

Octavia? The name didn’t ring a bell and was pretty unique. So choking on her drink Lexa cleared her throat and pulled it away asking, “I’m sorry, who?” she hoped this Octavia wasn’t a girlfriend...and she felt herself get worried.

“My...my roommate?” Clarke clarified and looked around the party again before looking at Lexa, “this is 5013 Arkadia Avenue, right?”

“N...no…” Lexa’s mouth dropped open. She stared at Clarke in horror as she realized what had happened, “this is...this is 5013 Polis Street…”

“What??!” Clarke asked.

Lexa nodded meekly, “yeah…..”

Clarke turned red with embarrassment, “you mean, I have the wrong party??”

“Yeah…” Lexa answered. But could see the realization take over. Clarke was already whipping about, getting ready to leave. She had to stop her. Reaching out she grabbed the panicking blonde by the wrist, “please don’t go.”

@clextober19

[shirokaneki]

364 Days of Winter (Hatori x Shigure Comission)

I am currently doing writing comissions at £10 for 1k, £20 for 2k, £60 for 8k. Yes, I will do NSFW, come message me for details and examples of that and I’ll discuss pricing. I will also write about your OC’s, main fandoms i can do are fruits basket, tokyo ghoul, fate series, evangelion, madoka, pokemon, but whatever it is come discusss with me. Reblogs appreciated!

A figure stood alone in a world devoid of colour, consumed both inside and out by an empty void of white.

Wind howled like a lone wolf. Ice belted from a blank sky, punching holes into his chest like showers of bullets.

This wretched snowstorm had lasted for days. And there was no spring in sight. Nor even any water after the ice. The state of his feelings were unchanging; stuck away in limbo, smothered – as they had been for years. His love was unrequited, and gradually the feeling gnawed away at him, just like the world gradually drowning in a frenzy of ice.

Even lighting a single flame was a struggle. Cigarette in mouth, lighter in hand, he made a futile attempt at kindling something warm. A wisp of heat ignited the bluish night, however, the ruthless wind brutally blew it away, cold assaulting his shivering body like the sunken fangs of a wild beast. The flame was blown away by the hollow gust of wind.

It felt as though he could summon no emotion within him without wretched ice demolishing him somehow.

He’d never needed a cigarette so much in his life. On this particular New Year’s Eve it looked like they might get snowed in overnight – his worst nightmare, really. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t turn up, say the snow was so bothersome and stay at home. Yet, part of him was almost excited that he would. It was such a stupid, childish feeling that he loathed. It seemed so futile, all of it – his unrequited love, his need for a cigarette, yet, he had no choice but to continue attempting trying to spark a flame– such a cold existence needed to smoke. He needed the warmth to suck the life out of to keep his heart from completely freezing over.

His love for Shigure was like his addition to cigarettes: a cancerous, one way burn that was killing him slowly. Yet, he needed it to survive. Hope that he’d somehow get his fix kept him battling the storm. Snow swirled and blasted, wind wailing as it reared for another assault on him. It hit him like the voracity of a quickly broken heart, painting the world in a growing limbo of nothingness, just like the ice gradually freezing his heart.

His heart seemed to be freezing over at such a rate that he depended on the cancer-sticks like an injection of heat into the insides. It was an effort, for sure, but somehow he managed to light a tiny flame. Literally as well as figuratively; using his burning hands as a shield, and turning his back on the snowstorm, a meagre flame flickered weakly inside his hands, spreading a weak, yet pleasant heat like the withering hope inside him that anything good could ever come of this emotion. Even if by some slim chance it worked out – which it wouldn’t – Akito would be furious. These daydreams were purely that, – just fantasy.

Everyone knew how it had went when he’d incurred Akito’s wrath before.

His body shuddered at the thought. Cigarettes seemed to be the only thought keeping him going through the night. If any of the zodiac couldn’t make it to the banquet, Akito would be furious. Thinking about it, he drew on the cigarette like his life depended on it. As he blew out the smoke it weaved and spiraled into a shape somewhat similar to a dragon before withering away to the clutches of ice.

What a fun night it’s going to be, he thought bitterly.

“Haa-san!” came a faraway voice, filled with such vigour and perk that his heart soared before plummeting back down with his usual pessimistic dread.

“Shi… shigure?” Hatori replied abruptly, realising he’d shown way too much emotion in that instant. He really hadn’t expected him to be here, especially running towards him at full blast over ice. He didn’t like people seeing his emotions – especially when they were filled with a gross, girlish crush unbefitting a grown man, so he cleared his throat, replying in a lower, deadpan voice. He let his sleek black hair fall across his expression so it was hidden once more. “Good to see you. I didn’t think you’d be making it tonight.”

Shigure stood before him and beamed. “Looks like there is going to be quite a few of our zodiac missing tonight. Many are snowed in. It’s going to be an interesting night, so I made sure to bring lots of alcohol!”

“Shigure,” Hatori muttered slowly. The wind made his hair wisp, revealing that scarred eye which he quickly hid with a down-turned head.  ”You live out with the Sohma land, the farthest away of us all, yet you’re the one still here. You did something, didn’t you?” His hand clenched as a fist by his side. “Did something happen between you and Akito?”

“Oh, Hatori.” Shigure stepped into the shelter of the Japanese style roof, shadow passing over his features. Hatori just knew there was malicious intent from a certain darkness in his gaze, but what he could not tell. “You know I’ll do anything to break the curse and draw distance between the zodiac and their God.” He smirked.” I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Hatori felt like one of the only people who knew of Shigure’s true nature. It was selfish. He’d use anyone to get what he wanted. Yet, somehow, he still loved him despite this, and for that, he had no reason why. It was hard for him to make new relationships, so perhaps instead the heart was clinging to the nostalgia of an old one, remembering all the joyous moments him, Ayame and Shigure shared. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, he supposed, even if there was no fathomable reason why.

“Oh, Haa-san, by the way,” Shigure retaliated in a sing song voice. A complete flip in two sides of the same coin – as was usual for Shigure. “Your partner for the traditional dance this year has dropped out. I figured you wouldn’t want to do it yourself, so I’m offering myself up instead. Since we haven’t rehearsed  anything traditional together, I figured we should do some sort of easy ballroom dance you see in hollywood movies instead. Look!” He rummaged the bag in his hand and unfurled a long, pink ballroom dress. “I even had this dress made especially for you!”

Hatori walked away and slammed the door in his face. There was a click of a key being locked.

“It was a joke, a joke Haa-san, this is one of Ayame’s dresses!” Shigure whined, pounding on the door, “please don’t leave me out here to freeze!”

***

Eventually, someone took pity on Shigure and let him in. But it was just as cold on the inside as it was out. The atmosphere hung over them with a heavy sense of dread. There was a banquet: bright, colourful and overfilled with food. Yet there was hardly anyone to eat it. There was just Hatori, Shigure and a falsely bright Ayame trying to lighten the mood.

Akito could hardly be considered to be considered a presence. They just sat in the corner, silent, crossed armed, hair fallen over their face, poisoning radiating from them that tainted the air. Shigure was cheerful – too cheerful;  this definitly had something to do with him.

They began drinking hard. That much was needed.

Something battered at the house. A gust of wind howled ominously loud like an impending storm, and everything went black.

All the light was gone once again.

“Looks like the power has gone out. Do we have any candles?” Ayame said lightly, attempting to brighten the mood, but there was a definite sense of unease in his voice.

Akito didn’t answer. They remained silent, brewing like the storm outside.

“We have them. I’ll get them from the kitchen,” Shigure replied.

They sat in both silence and darkness, awkwardly waiting for Shigure to return.

Fwoosh.

Upon his return, there was light again. Shigure lit candles in the room one by one. Sparking light was beyond an easy task for him – much unlike how it was with Hatori outside.

“Hatori.” Akito’s voice was like a light airy breeze, soft, yet hollow sounding, despite the clear malice bitten back within. Hellish flames danced on their skin. They had been plotting, scheming something to cause a scene, and it looked like now it was finally time. “Do your traditional dance.”

Hatori hung his head. “However, my partner…”

“Partner?” Akito looked head on at them for the first time that night, those empty gray eyes bulging with malice. “Don’t make me laugh, Hatori. You will dance the dance alone – like you always are. It should be natrual for you, right?”

Akito’s words were like an icicle straight through his chest. Not that there was any trace of it on his face; his expression was still, stoic, not even a flinch of surprise as his heart was pierced. As an older man, he thought it was place never to cry, never to show anything beyond the professional business man charade he put on.

He didn’t blame Ayame and Shigure not for standing up for him. Even after all these years, living their lives as best friends there was an unspoken rule – never must the zodiac challenge the word of their God.

However…

“Come now,” said Shigure in a low voice. “It would be far too embarrassing for Haa-san.”

Hatori looked up quickly, the candlelight casting a warm sparkle in those cold, grey eyes. Promptly he looked away, hiding an eye behind his hair. The atmosphere suddenly became volcanic; Akito’s teeth snarled with an oncoming eruption of rage. Their eyes bulged with the wrath of a vengeful God but Hatori stood up quickly, sedating the oncoming eruption that had been building all night. A fearful shudder passed though him – he knew of God’s wrath all too well.

“I will do the dance,” he said in a quiet voice.

Akito bit their lip. The rigid, dangerous stance of their body loosened somewhat. They smirked.

If I have to be the crux to prevent my friends from being hurt, so be it, Hatori thought to himself.

He made his way to stand in front of everyone with awkward, ungainly steps – unbefitting of a man with such a cool, powerful aura. He retreated into himself, fingers curling to fists, lip being bitten. Normally, the traditional new year’s clothes were a bright, extravagant affair, exploding with colour and detail. However, Hatori’s were a plain black, long and sweeping the floor, – as per Akito’s request. They were long, dark, and devoid of colour – just like the hollow emptiness of his heart.

He kept his gaze firmly on the floor, hair streaming over his face. Akito laughed.

But something happened as he looked up. He caught Shigure’s eyes, looking striking with the hot light dancing within them. His hand rested on his palm with a small smile of encouragement on his face, unbearably handsome looking and, well…

The flickering flames casting Hatori’s body with incandescent hues of oranges melted the crutches of ice gripping his heart. It was such a minor thing to speak like that to Akito, but it was something he wasn’t sure any other of the zodiac could do. Maybe not even he, for he still lived in fear after that day he was blinded by Akito. That was day the world had lost its colour, and ice began to solidify his heart.

But at that precise moment, he felt a great amount of love for Shigure. The feeling melted the ice within him, igniting his bloodstream with the warm, static tingles of butterflies. His frozen heart was temporarily thawed, and it blossomed like the first flourishes of cherry blossoms from Winter into Spring.

Perhaps this was the alcohol taking, but he decided to call upon it. To channel those smothered, pent up feelings through the medium of dance. It was his only hope of relief. The only way he could express his love in a way that didn’t leave a path of destruction – never could it be voiced aloud.

He tore his eyes away from Shigure, closing them, and started out small. His knees bent, body hunched up and curled with his arms clutching at his shoulders as if fighting away the cold. He thought about Kana. How the incident had snatched the ability to freely love without the vices of fear and left him cold. Then, he thought of Shigure. The thought brought such an expression of pain on his face. Never would his feelings be returned, but, as the candles painted an aura of warmth over his usually pale skin, steadily, he began to grow. Love ignited him. It gave him the warmth he needed to keep going and let him feel things again, no matter how painful they were.

The love was agony. As was told by the slow, tepid movements he made. This wasn’t anything remotely close to what he’d rehearsed but that dance couldn’t be done alone anyway. Akito wanted to humiliate him. And so he would humiliate himself, expressing that gross, disgusting love that made him feel as though he’d implode if he locked it away any further.

Steadily, he began to grow from his hunched position. Slowly. Cautiously. Quivering in a way that he could not tell was cold or fear. But he thought of that heat on his skin, the newly grown flame warming his insides, and drew upon it like a phoenix rising from the ashes of an old love into the blaze of a new one. Brow furrowed in pain, steadily, his limbs began to unfurl like fiery wings in the candlelight. His body grew in a slow, steady manner, like the trees that signalled spring, and his fingers unfurled gracefully like flourishing cherry blossoms. He opened his eyes. Amour painted them, their usual colour warmed by the feeling of love, and, helplessly, he found himself gazing at Shigure. Shigure’s eyes were wide, bedazzled looking, lips parted in awe. Quickly Hatori looked away, turning his back on him.

He panted and retreated back into himself. His heart rioted in panic. Had Shigure sensed something? Could he tell he loved him just from that single look? No. There was no way. He beat himself up internal for succumbing to such a vile feeling; gentlemen didn’t go around expressing love in girlish dance.

Still. All eyes were upon him. He could feel their burn – even Akito was suspiciously silent. He had to continue. He had to humiliate himself further, otherwise there would be hell to pay from their God.

Slowly he turned his head. The long black fringe of his hair obscured his face. It flashed like a halo as he turned to face his audience face on – it had to be a quick movement, otherwise he may have never been able to face them again. He couldn’t look Shigure in the eye. So instead, he reached to the candle sitting on the shelf behind him above his head. The light, the warmth he craved, was out of reach. As he stood, sucking all the light into him with the vanta black of his robe, only a faint outline of gold glowing behind him, his arm slowly outreached. It shook ever so slightly at the thought of what would happen if he ever caught the light. But he’d never know. Streams of gold slipped through the cracks of his fingers.

“That’s enough, Haa-san,” said a voice in a low, gentle lilt.

Hatori flinched, fear of what Akito might do overriding the blossoms of static coursing from his fingers, but he couldn’t pull away.

The light may have escaped his grasp. However, much to his shock – and horror – the real thing was in his fingers. Shigure’s fingers had closed over his own, sending waves of heat and static blossoming over his fingers.

“You needn’t dance alone.”

Such dread caused him to plummet back to the real world that he almost wretched as Akito stood to their feet.

[zirawrites]

how would sole's romanced/non-romanced companions react to pre-war sole being an actress? (like they find a magazine with them in it, etc)

Cait: She doesn’t understand the big deal about celebrities. Pre-war people seemed to worship them. And why? Cait tells Sole that movie stars didn’t put food on anyone’s table or pay the bills. When Sole seems upset, she adds that Sole’s charisma has saved them both from a lot of trouble.

Cait (Romanced): Cait starts calling Sole “your highness” and “princess” a lot. She doesn’t understand the significance of movies and the celebrities involved, but if it made Sole happy, she’s happy. Insists Sole bring some of her roles in to their bedroom life.

Codsworth: How had he never seen a movie his mistress was in? Codsworth insists Sole tell him all about their life on the silver screen. When Sole goes off on missions, he scours their Sanctuary house for any salvageable holotapes with them on it.

Codsworth (Synth/Romanced): He almost doesn’t believe it until Sole shows him a picture of them in costume. She was wearing a tight red dress for a spy film. Codsworth is unable to hide his blush, and insists Sole is still just as beautiful as her movie star-clad past.

Curie: Curie had read plenty of books on pre-war entertainment. However, she had no idea Sole spent a lot of time in the limelight. She asks what roles Sole played so she could read up on them. As fate would have it, Sole was the leading lady in Curie’s favorite book adaption.

Curie (Romanced): “No wonder you are so graceful, madame!” Curie is enamored with Sole’s celebrity past, but mostly about the content of her movies. She listens to Sole tell behind the scenes stories for hours. When Sole says Curie reminds her of a woman she shared a romance with on-screen, Curie is thrilled. She insists Sole find the movie for them both to watch at Starlight Drive-In.

Danse: Danse remembered watching pre-war movies on a projector in the Prydwen on special nights to boost morale. He briefly wonders if he’s seen anything Sole was in. Danse is more impressed with Sole’s talent than her status in society. Whenever they have free time between missions he asks her to read to him in that soothing, Transatlantic accent she spoke in during films.

Danse (Romanced): “That explains why you’re so beautiful, then.” Danse knew Sole was extraordinarily attractive even for pre-war standards. He feels a twinge of jealousy knowing millions of movie-goers probably lusted over Sole’s more… raunchy scenes. The feeling quickly passes when Sole offers to recreate them in the bedroom.

Deacon: Immediately wants to play her roles on a stealth mission. Deacon makes Sole tell him all about her favorite character; every excruciating detail of the character study. When Desdemona asks them to go undercover at a nightclub to meet an escaped synth, Deacon emerges from HQ in a flowing gown and blonde wig. It disturbed Sole because he honestly looked just like her.

Deacon (Romanced): He’s absolutely turned on. His entire life revolves around pretending to be someone he isn’t. And Sole made their pre-war living off that? Deacon starts flirting with Sole using their own movie quotes. She has no idea where he found the old tapes, but he knows all the words to their musicals and big lines. When it sends Sole in a fit of giggles, he feels on top of the world.

Gage: Being an actress doesn’t make them a better fighter, but Sole could contain her emotions better than most. Gage supposed that was a benefit, but really the only one. Honestly, it’s pretty underwhelming how much he cares.

Gage (Romanced): “I thought all you were good for was kicking ass.” Gage pokes fun at Sole’s past profession until she tells him the plots of her favorite films. He pretends to be disinterested, but the excitement in Sole’s eyes when she talks warms his heart. When they are lying in bed before sleep, Gage rolls on his side and pokes Sole’s arm. He starts spouting off fan theories of Sole’s biggest work. He can’t even pretend not to be interested anymore.

Hancock: Sole could have told Hancock they used to be a janitor and he still would have found it to be totally badass. He asks Sole how many people they got to kill on screen. Did they play a mayor? Any famous historical figure? Sole tells him about a zombie film they were in, and quickly thinks they offended Hancock. Instead, he leans forward, limping and moaning. “Like this?” he asks. “That’s my zombie impression. A ghoul would be more like…” He pulls out his pocket knife as if he’s about to attack. “Hardcore. Like me, obviously.”

Hancock (Romanced): Hancock is adorable about expressing his appreciation towards Sole’s love for the cinema. He takes interest in the parts they played, and the plot behind the movies. Of course, he asks Sole to explain their costumes in excruciating detail. When Sole talks about a particular red dress they wore in a romance film, he absolutely combusts. Where can he find these tapes and would Sole be willing to do any *ehem* sequels.

MacCready: MacCready is rather disinterested until he finds out Sole was in the first film-adaption of a Grognak comic. After that, it’s all he talks about. He wants to know what Grognak was like in person (yes, he uses the characters’ names instead of the actors’). He nearly drags Sole home and pulls out his secret stash of comic books. Sole shows MacCready every scene they were in based on the pictures, and even speaks some of her lines. He sits excitedly on the bed and watches her act out his favorite scene. It was like Sole was talking to a five year old boy, but she figured MacCready deserved a break from reality.

MacCready (Romanced): “Guess I’ve got to start calling you my little starlet, huh?” MacCready falls head-over-heels at Sole’s pre-war photoshoot pictures. He particularly likes the one where she is gussied up for galas and charity balls. Her skin was so soft, and her thick hair was curled just like he pictured a movie star would be. He hoped if they ever had children together, they inherited Sole’s pre-war grace.

Preston: Sole never ceased to impress him. No wonder she retained an unparalleled amount of pre-war grace. Preston romanticized much of the pre-war world, so he loved hearing about the plots of her movies. When they had free time in Sanctuary, the two even set up a little play for the settlers. Sole played the part of a fearless general, and Preston was the greedy raider trying to take down the Commonwealth. Synth-Shaun thought it was absolutely hilarious.

Preston (Romanced): Preston already felt Sole was out of his league based on merit and kindness alone. Now he was dating a celebrity? It made him a little insecure, but he was also enamored by Sole’s traditional femininity in the roles she played. When Sole quoted some of his favorite lines, he immediately blushed.

Piper: She immediately wants to write an article on it. Sole never stopped getting interesting. Piper sat Sole on the other side of her desk and asked every question she could think of. What was it like as a working woman in the pre-war world? How big of a celebrity were you? Are you planning on bringing cinema back to the Commonwealth? The article is a huge hit among the Diamond City snobs.

Piper (Romanced): “Can I… keep these pictures? For the paper, of course!” Yeah, Piper wasn’t fooling anyone. She thinks Sole’s talent with words is definitely hot. Sole teaches Piper her most famous monologues which the girls reenact over a bottle of wine in the office. It’s a giggling, adorable mess.

Nick: Nick Valentine the human was more of a book man, but Jenny adored the movies so he took her to most of them. Nick Valentine the synth was obviously the same way. He rather read in solace and quietly gather inspiration, but wasn’t opposed to the cinema. Sole starred in a spy film, so Nick mostly asks her questions about that experience.

Nick (Romanced): “High society-type, eh? You still want to run around with the lowly likes of me?” Nick was only kidding with Sole. He found their passion for theater to be inspiring. It was important to care about something. Sole cared about entertaining and standing up for people. Nick cared about justice and Sole. It worked out nicely for them both.

Strong: “Human read stories like Mac-beth and milk of human kindness?” Sole just agreed so they didn’t have to explain themselves. Their answer satisfied Strong, who only admired them more.

X6-88: Acting was only another talent in a laundry list of shit Sole excelled in. He knew the charisma would come in handy when running the Institute. Overall, X6 was impressed. He didn’t ask her many questions about the experience, but when Sole offered him some tapes with her movies on them, he watched them in private.

X6-88 (Romanced): X6 insisted Sole watch her movies with him whenever they had free time. He wanted to know everything about his partner; even the parts he didn’t really understand. X6 thought there were better ways pre-war people could entertain themselves, like watching sports or sparring themselves. But when he sees how graceful Sole is on screen… Well, they barely made it through the first film before he was all over her.

[notskeletonrants]

The Problem of Identity

No, I don’t mean Identity as in voter fraud (a fake thing that republicans tout when they lose). I mean identity as in who you are, deep inside your skeleton. Where the sub-skeletal soul lives.

I’m talking about who you are.

I recently had a really trying and somewhat emotional talk with a person that keeps me really well grounded. It’s because the idea of non-binaries came up after I told her my ignorant and dumb reasons that I struggle with the label feminism, see previous rant about labels.

But, anyway. I came to the conclusion that functionally, and perhaps in a performative manner I am a male. But there’s nothing really deep inside the psyche, inside the head space that I would consider my identity that necessarily ties me to what I would consider the more social constructs of what modern people and especially the previous generation calls masculinity. This whole idea of what a real man does, what a real man likes. And you can replace man with woman at any time and you might find the same issues.

I can grow a beard. I look good with a beard and short hair.

But sometimes I want my hair to be long and flowing and to have a clean cut face and not have to worry about being told “you look like a girl.” Not that being called that insults me, it’s rather the intention that does so. The guy saying these things is not necessarily comparing me with someone of a different gender so much as saying that I’m not conforming to what he thinks I should be and that he is disappointed in me for that. He’s trying to shame me for what I feel and do.

Look, I get it. The world is easier to process and deal with when things are reduced down to very basic simplistic ideals. But the binary is something that doesn’t necessarily fit all people, isn’t descriptive from genetics and is probably not something that would be considered of great tradition, seeing how several cultures accept that gender roles aren’t strictly two different things. There’s also the idea that even the binary has changed massively. Like think of the most pink, like powdery pink onesie you can think of with frilly things that look like doilies, right?

Well, back in the 1900’s that was generally the color you wanted to dress your son in. Pink was a male color for small, young, human things (read: babies).

But there’s not just that that really strikes me with grief over who I am as a person. There’s two further ideas that really fuck me up hard. And it’s that masculinity, the more contemporary form up til about the end of the millennial generation is that men are hard, emotionless stones that you can rely on to be strong in every situation. But I am a huge fucking crybaby when slated against that. I don’t like Five Finger Death Punch, but I humored a friend of mine and saw a video called The Wrong Side of Heaven and I could not finish it because I did not have enough tissues. That shit fucked me up so hard. And then another day I was listening to some Amanda Palmer and one of her newer projects, Grand Theft Orchestra came on with a song called The Bed Song and it reminded me of how alone I am and how much my ex wife and I had sort of grown apart in a really short time even though this was about a decades long relationship that just keeps getting colder and more distant. It felt really deeply personal when I heard it and I am not ashamed to say that my eyes were as leaky as hell. Well my eye sockets, anyway. The truth is, I feel deep emotions like that all the goddamn time. It’s not a burden for me, either. It helps me logically to know who I am emotionally and I would say that this is a better trait of masculinity than all the wood-cutting, beard-having, flannel-wearing, shark-punching cartoonish, manly men you think of when you hear the term masculinity.

But that’s not how society sees it, so I get to the other further idea that fucks me up hard.

I’ve been going through my whole life on auto-pilot, just doing what my body and mind want without ever considering the further meanings behind everything. The gender roles that I fit into. The times that I don’t want to be called “weirdo” or “freak” for not being into sports or really being into performance so much so that I will painstakingly put on ghoul makeup whenever I know I’m going to perform on a special occasion. And when I look at how I’ve lived my life, and all the hats that I wear as a definitely probably male dude, I get onto the idea that I don’t fit into these performative roles most of the time. I’ve never worn flannel. I hate sitting and watching football. I’d rather watch a suspense or drama than an action movie most of the time. All of these things. And yet, I say, “yup I’m a man,” and I totally fit right in with how I’m saying it. But when I think about it, what if that ‘manliness’ is the linchpin of my entire identity and it’ll all unravel if I pull that up and look at it and find that it’s just this big facade I was fed as a youth and subsequently believed? What if I’ve never really took an honest look into my identity and without that graceful ‘truth’ that my gender identity is on the binary is what holds all of my securities together and without it I’m just a messy ball of anxiety and insecurity?

Do all people think this?

Like, I write fiction with a lot of truth based philosophical remarks peppered in and I sometimes really have to stop for a while because it’s really something that bothers me how much it reflects on this insecure mess that I am as a person.

Like, the only thing I’m really that secure in is the fact that I’m this incorrigible flirt. It doesn’t matter, if I’m in the mood to flirt I will flirt.

I will flirt with anyone.

I will scare people that are supposedly secure in their sexualities by flirting with them.

I’m only really physically into women, but goddamn do I flirt.

What I’m basically trying to say here is that

Gender identity isn’t as clear cut as some of ya’ll make it out to seem.

Like, for example, Ben Shapiro likes to say “Facts Don’t Care About Your Feelings” after snorting a bunch of coke and not knowing how to slow his speech patterns down so that the layperson can understand what he’s saying without much trouble.

It’s true. And the fact is that medically, there is no correlation between the binary front he puts up, and how genetically “man man, woman woman, no ifs or buts” because ‘shes’ and ‘hes’ are totally social constructs and it is mostly an aesthetic place from which those descriptions come from.

What it all boils down to is that Ben Shapiro is a real sumbitch and if you do listen to him, you should stop because he’s an idiot trying to propagate false ideas. The other thing it all boils down to is that I’m going to go cry now, okay thanks, bye. Footnote: This is not a scientific paper. This blog is and always has been solely for rants.

[sociallyacceptablemadness]

41 - Forbidden Kiss for the kiss prompt! :)

Thanks for the ask, Ryneapple!  I did this one with my LW James and Sarah Lyons, and it’s long.

    The first time she sees him, in the midst of a mutant attack on their way to GNR, he looks like a damned idiot.

    He’s just a kid, pushing six feet but with no muscle to balance his height, dirty blond hair sticking up in a million directions, sunglasses perched on a recently-broken nose and spiderwebbed with cracks in one lens.  His armor is obviously scavenged off dead raiders, ill-fitting and probably doing more to impede his movement than to actually protect vital organs.

    Turns out he doesn’t just look like an idiot; he tends to act like one, too.  Not in the traditional sense, either, which makes it almost worse – he’s obviously got a brain in there, judging by how quick and easy he can get the radio tower back in order, but he talks more than he listens, has no sense of discernment, and she wouldn’t trust him to watch her back in a firefight against radroaches.

    He sticks around, though, always on the edge of her radar, usually accompanied by the massive, silent ghoul who serves as his bodyguard.  He rarely says anything to her, though she hears mixed messages about him from her troops.  He’s apparently a love-him-or-hate-him type and, despite her irritation with how useless he was against that behemoth and with Wastelanders in general, she can’t seem to get him out of her head.

    It’s not long after she hears about James’s death in the purifier that she finds his son in some abandoned corner of the Citadel, sitting alone, sheltered by the dark.  She’s been pacing, striding through the halls and walkways, insomnia and restlessness keeping her awake.  There’s a fight coming – she can feel it, and the anticipation has set her nerves on fire.

    She almost walks right by him, he’s so quiet, but a shadow shifting catches her attention and she stops abruptly, hand going for her sidearm.

    He looks up at her, bringing his face out of his hands, and looks guilty.  He’s not wearing his sunglasses and his eyes are so big, so expressive, so impressively blue.  They’re child’s eyes, but there’s an old man’s grief dragging his shoulders down.

    “Sorry,” he says, standing. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here.”

    Sarah looks around.  It’s a supply cache, little more than a closet without a door, tucked away from the barracks and the training yard, filled with crates of random supplies.

    “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she says, shrugging.  He gives her a small smile that she can’t help returning.  He’s grieving, but his smile is still genuine.

    “I just needed some time to think,” he says, “Can’t get a lot of that done in the barracks with Krieg sawing logs all night.”

    A laugh bubbles out of her before she can suppress it; Paladin Krieg’s snoring is legendary among the Brotherhood.

    “Definitely not,” she agrees, and some back part of her brain reminds her to remain professional, to stop thinking about how lovely those eyes of his are, and how well he’s started to fill in his armor.

    “Are you on duty?” he asks, gaze straying to her sidearm.  She shakes her head.

    “Trying to think myself,” she answers, then hesitates.  She feels like she should say something about his father, offer some sort of condolence, but she doesn’t know what.  She’s a soldier, born and bred, and death is a part of that.  Some deaths hurt more than others, but it’s not something she’s used to discussing or rehashing once the body is cold.

    “Where’s your…friend?” she asks instead, thinking of the walking hulk of ghoul that usually follows the kid everywhere.  He looks confused for a moment.

    “Charon?” he asks, “I, uh, gave him some time off.  People around here don’t seem to like him much.”

    Sarah nods, lips pursed.  Ghouls take some getting used to, especially ones as intimidating as Charon, but it niggles at her that the kid has been running around without protection, the Enclave on his ass.

    “Don’t worry about them,” she says, trying to sound dismissive. “You should always have someone to watch your back, Initiate.”

    “Call me James.  Or Jimmy, or whatever.  Just not Junior.”

    Sarah can’t help but smile again. “I don’t think Junior will help you out with the other Initiates,” she says, “How about J.J.?”

    He smiles and nods and shit, she’s being so stupid, her heart fluttering a bit when he does.  He’s younger, he’s technically her subordinate, he’s just some bumbling Vaultie that barely knows the butt of a rifle from the barrel, but he makes her feel something strange and warm that she hasn’t ever felt before.

    “I can live with J.J.”

    He was gone when she woke up in the infirmary, already heading for Adams.  She’s been out for weeks and it shows, her legs wobbling when she slides out of bed and tries to get dressed.  The medics want her to stay, but once she’s got her bearings, she’s out the door.  She’s a Sentinel; she can’t sit around in a sick bed while her soldiers fight the battle on their own, and J.J. is out there.  She’s never worried about her soldiers before, never felt so desperate to know that they’re okay like she does with J.J..  The feeling is foreign and disconcerting to say the least, but it pushes her into the vertibird like a compulsion she can’t fight and doesn’t want to, anyway.

    When she sees him again, relief floods over her.  She feels frozen to the ground, unsure what to actually say.  He did it – he pulled it off and got the nukes armed.  In less than ten minutes, the Enclave will be gone for good.  The Brotherhood has control of the purifier, control of the base, and the losses haven’t been catastrophic.  That idiot kid in too-big armor did it and she’s filled with a bit of awe and a lot of something she can’t quite define.

    The ride back to the Citadel passes in silence.  J.J. is sitting across from her, Charon at his side. The soldiers around them are chattering, celebrating, and Charon is staring at the wall with a look of grim satisfaction on his ragged face.  J.J. catches her eye and her heart seizes.  He doesn’t look happy, just…blank.  There’s no sadness there, no pride, no disappointment, nothing.

    They return to the Citadel and her father has plenty to say.  She stands at attention with the Pride and tries to listen, but she can only sneak glances at J.J.  Her father thanks him and he nods, smiles, but it isn’t the same.  There’s a falseness behind the smile, a lack of feeling that makes her sad.

    She’s walking again that night, circles around and around the wings of the Citadel, when she finds him back in that same supply closet.  It’s been almost a year since their first encounter there, and he startles her as much now as he did then.

    “You really like this thing, huh?” she asks once her heart rate has had a moment to settle.  He shrugs in disinterest.

    “It’s quiet,” he says.  His tone is flat and he’s looking at the floor, leaned forward on his knees, hands hanging limply.  She looks him over and sees there’s still soot from the explosions peppering his dirty blond hair.

    “Is something wrong?”

    It feels odd to ask, but she does it anyway.  J.J. did the impossible but he’s not a soldier; she wants to protect him, to make him smile again the way he did once before.

    He looks up and rubs a hand across his jaw, shaking his head.  Dark stubble leaves a shadow on his face and he looks older than his twenty years.

    “Nah,” he says, shrugging. “Just thinking.”

    She nods and squeezes into the small space, sitting on a crate opposite him.  She knows what this would look like to anyone passing by, but at the moment, she doesn’t care.  It makes her hurt to see that emptiness in his face.

    “What about?”

    He sighs. “Trying to figure out where to go from here,” he says, “I don’t feel like I should stick around but I haven’t really got anywhere else to go.”

    Sarah frowns. “You’re always welcome in the Citadel.  Whatever you need, you have it.”

    He gives her a lopsided grimace. “I didn’t mean literally.  Just…what do I do now?”

    She nods slowly.  As much as she’d like him to stay around, she knows he doesn’t fit in.  He’s smart enough to be a scribe, but he chafes under authority.  He’s not a soldier, as much as she’d like him to be, if only to keep him around.

    Silence hangs between them.  Sarah fiddles with her uniform like some green recruit, her throat tight.  Before he stumbled into her life and ruined a good shot, she always had a handle on herself.  She knew where she belonged, she knew who she was, she knew what she felt.  Now, the idiot kid is sitting here, his knees almost touching hers, and she feels lost.  The prospect of not seeing his stupid sunglasses winking at her across the courtyard, of not hearing him squabble with Charon, of losing that sweet smile makes her chest ache.  She’s become accustomed to his presence around the Brotherhood, as comfortingly familiar to her as the weight of a laser rifle on her back.

    “I’d like to see you around again,” she says and glances up at him cautiously, “I wish we had the chance to…get to know eachother better.”

    She looks back down and waits.  It’s so stupid, the way this idiot makes her feel like some dumb schoolgirl with a crush.  It’s not professional.  She’s a Sentinel, a soldier, a leader, but this boy – this man she barely knows makes her forget all that.  Makes her forget every rule in the Codex about fraternization, which, if he stayed, would govern their lives from there on out.

    The Brotherhood is her life in every way, but suddenly, that life seems a bit less appealing if J.J. isn’t there, too.

    “Sarah?”

    She looks up, chest tight, and he reaches for her.  His hand threads through her hair and calloused fingers drag across her scalp.  The sensation sends a tingle down her spine and she shivers.

    “Sarah, what do you want?”

    His voice is low, hoarse, barely a whisper in the darkness of their little hideaway.  His eyes – dammit, she loves those eyes. She loves the freckles on his cheekbones, the way his hair never sits flat, the raw pink scar across his eyebrow, the little crook in his nose.  She’s been surrounded by men her whole life but never looked at one the way she looks at him now, beautiful and wonderful and hell, if she’s going to break the rules, it might as well be with him.

    She’s not experienced at all, so when she leans forward to kiss him, she bumps his chin instead.  She can feel herself reddening but barely has time to be embarrassed before he cups her jaw and claims her mouth.  His lips are chapped but they move on hers in a way that makes her head spin.  He pulls back, searching her face, and she realizes she can barely breathe.

    “Sarah, tell me what you want,” he says, “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

    She shakes her head. “I want you,” she whispers, and he reaches around and pulls her to him.  It’s awkward in the dark, crowded space, but he’s holding her and she’s never felt so giddy.  He kisses her again, moving from her mouth to her cheek, her ear, before wrapping both arms around her and squeezing.  He’s stronger than he looks and she can feel the hard planes of his muscular chest beneath the Brotherhood uniform.

    It’s stupid and it’s against the rules, but she pulls him back to her quarters, holds him close and kisses him.  She doesn’t care what someone might say or think, because it’s J.J. and she needs that smile like she needs oxygen.

    She holds him to her chest, his stubble scratching her bare skin, and kisses his ear.  He turns his head and meets her mouth, and smiles, and she smiles because she can’t do anything but.

[toxickimi]

Easter 2020 Special

--Does contain a plot hole that I wanted to do but decided not to. This is from 2020 so far before any major events happen and takes place around Ch 1 - Ch 3-

It was late Saturday night, just past midnight. No shops were awake, and most of the commonwealth slept, except for the guards. Kimikyo and Kigra were the only two awake on the Prydwen. "Why are we up so late Kimi-chan?" "Because!" Kimi was smiling brightly and if the laws of nature allowed it, she'd have sparkles around her. "Easter is tomorrow!! We have to deck this place and Good Neighbor out! Imagine Maxson's face when his ship is pasteled out!" Kigra thought for a moment before nodding. "Let's do it." The two high-fived before they snuck off the ship, only telling one of the guards what they were up to. The two had went to the CIT ruins where they met up with Azumiral. "So let me get this straight. You guys want me to use Institute technology to make Easter decorations just to, one prank that dick Arthur and then to egg bomb Good Neighbor?" Kimikyo and Kigra had nodded to Azumiral. "Pleeeeease!! It's going to be hilarious and we'll send picture to you of Maxson's face." Azumiral tapped her cheek with her index finger. "Get him to wear a bunny suit and I'm in." "Deal!" Kimi had spoke up before Kigra could. "Alright I'll be back in a couple hours. Don't die while I'm gone, there are super mutants running around here." In a flash Azumiral was gone. Kigra dragged Kimi to a nearby building, taking cover there. "Are you nuts?! There is no way he'll put on a bunny suit." "No one said he was going to be awake to put it on." Kimi was grinning a devilish grin. "Oh no..." "Oh yes." Kigra rubbed her the back of her head. "Just what do you plan on doing?" "I'm glad you asked! I was thinking we use some medicine to keep him asleep, you can get it from Cade. Then we just slip it on him over his clothes. He won't notice!" "We? Kimi this is all you. There is.." She looked at Kimi who was giving her a puppy dog look. "..no way..." The two kept staring at each other. "Oh! Stop with that look, I'll help." "Yay!!"  As the  two waited for Azumiral to get back the two were arm wrestling, playing thumb wars and even tossed rocks at some unsuspecting by passers. "Just what are you two girls doing?" The two jolted in their spot before turning to see Nora. They then explained everything they were planning causing Nora to laugh. "Get me some pictures too! I have to see Elder Maxson's face and save me an egg." The three said their goodbyes as Nora left to finish her mission. Soon enough Azumiral returned.

  Standing with her were two synths holding four bags each, Azumiral holding a clip board. "Luckily for you two I was able to make virtually everything, except the candy. So we made you non-radiated fancy lad cakes but bite size so you can fit them in eggs. We also donated two hundred caps. You have everything you'll need even four pairs of bunny ears for you two, that disgusting ghoul mayor, and one extra for who ever. Arthur's bunny suit is in this bag." Azumiral pointed to one of the bags. "And I provided a disposable camera, make sure to get my picture or else I will be there to collect a test subject." "R-Right. Thank you Azumiral." Kigra and Kimikyo collected the bags from the synths before quickly making their way to Good Neighbor first.   Like shadows of the night the two quickly made work of the decorations. Azumiral had provided capsules that had plenty of supplies. The girls's giggles and soft talking could be heard, which caused Hancock to wake up. However when he walked out he was met with Kigra standing on the balcony. "Just what the hell..do you have any idea what time-" He quickly went silent when he felt something slip onto his head then a flash from the camera Kigra was holding. "What is going on?" Kimi had walked out from behind him, over to Kigra "Easter! It's an old tradition and you just got egg bombed!"Kigra and Kimi had  waved before jumping off the balcony, taking off in a run. Hancock shook his head before walking back into the state house to see there were plastic eggs and egg decor littering the building. He reached off taking the ears off his head, causing him to laugh. "Those two have completely lost it." He crawled back into his bed, going to sleep. The girls had made it back to the Prydwen, making quick work on getting it decorated. They had to explain to the guards on duty what was going on before making their way to Maxon's room. "You know when finds out we're both dead, right?" "It'll be so worth it." Kigra sighed before raising both her hands up, this made vines from plants in his room to appear. She used the vines to lift him up of the bed. "Quickly...these vines won't be able to hold his heavy ass long." Kimi nodded before she grabbed the bunny suit, putting it on him as fast as she could. Just in the nick of time the vines had snapped causing him to fall back on his bed. The two girls rushed out of the room in a panic, that surely had woken him up. They peeked around the corner to see him still asleep. "Damn...he's a heavy sleeper." "It's not that." The girls stood up straight, getting in the BoS pose. "Oh Cade...It's just you." Kimi loosened up, letting out a sigh. "I was made aware of your plans to prank our great leader and since it's been a long while since we've had any fun and since it's the two of you, I decided to help keep him 'knocked out'. He'll wake up shortly though so do finish this little plan of yours." The girls took his advice scrabbling to finish decorating. However when Kimi got to her bed, which use to be Danse's, she let out a sad whimper. "I'm sure he's fine, he's taking care of Peach right? He's got his hands full." Kimi nodded to Kigra before the two put their bunny ears on. "Why don't you visit him later. I'll cover for you if our fearless leader asks." "And so will I. Besides I need you to give take supplies to him." Haylen had wrapped her arms around the girls, taking notice of their art. "Is this some old world party?" "It is! It's called Easter and we'll explain everything in the morning meeting, which.." Kimi looked out side, taking note of where the sun was. "Should be starting soon." After about an hour of confusion everyone was gathered in the main meeting area, however Maxson was already visibly annoyed with the decorations. He hadn't yet noticed his current outfit which looked completely ridiculous with his coat over it. Many of the soldiers couldn't look at him and a few were holding back laughter. "Since I can only assume you were behind this Kimikyo, why don't you explain just what is going on." "With pleasure Elder Fluff." Maxson had glared at her as she walked up. She explained what Easter use to be about and how Easter egg hunts worked. "Right now Kigra has finished hiding the eggs and there is plenty of eggs for everyone so with Elder Maxson permission, can we start the hunt?" Maxson stared at the soldiers and scribes before sighing. "Make it quick. You all have work." Everyone began the hunt except Kimikyo and Maxson who stayed in the room. "I assume you had made contact with your sister Azumiral t o get all this." "That's right and I almost forgot." Kimi moved away from him pulling out the camera. "Say bunny suit." Maxson looked at her with complete confusion as she took the picture before turning to look out the window, only just now catching his reflection. He was in a giant white bunny suit the hood was up and everything. "What the--KIMIKYO!!" She was already long gone. When everyone was day with the hunt the day went back to normal, Maxson had changed out of the suit, red with anger and embarrassment. "Kigra, you're sister is to not leave the ship till this list is done. Do I make myself clean?" Kigra had taken the list full of meaningless tasks. Not wanting to anger him any further or argue with him she simply nodded. "And it is to be her doing them, no one else." "Right." Kigra had looked outside at the where the sun was then at the list. There would be no way to finish the list and give Kimikyo enough time to visit Peach and Danse. Kigra had sighed, reluctantly giving the list to Kimi. "I'm sorry, direct orders from Elder Maxson." "You..can't be serious..." "Kimikyo, I tried to warn you but you insisted he be in the suit." "Did you not hear what Azumiral said though, if I didn't." "I heard but still. You could have put him in the suit, taken the photo then gotten him out of the suit. You made your bed, now lay in it." Kimikyo had taken the list before she began to work on it as fast as she could. Maybe if she could work fast enough she'd have a little time to visit. However Maxson kept adding tasks to the list. After a few hours Haylen approached Kimikyo. "Kimikyo, Nora is here she said she would take the supplies to Danse, was there anything you wanted to give him..?" Kimi had nodded but never turned to look at her. "I-In my foot locker..there's uhm..there's a basket for him and meat for Peach..." It was easy to tell she was choking back tears, but was it from sadness or anger? "Right. Also Nora wanted to talk to you before she left." "I can't..I have to get these damn tasks finished." Haylen nodded before walking away, making sure to grab the meat and basket from the foot locker. Haylen explained what she could to Nora before she left. Kimi had finished the last task on the list before she made her way to Maxson. "There asshole I'm done with your list. I'm going to bed." "Not before you clean up and eat dinner. Make haste." Kimi had glared at him before turning and walking away, making sure to slam the door behind her. Just as she was ordered to she went to the showers to clean up before putting on a fresh BoS suit. "I hate this...orange isn't even my color..." "Then why don't you wear this?" Nora was leaning on a locker, holding up a laundered black dress. "Where...why..what?" Kimi was confused as she took the dress before looking at Nora. "Well Maxson sore the soldiers to keep quiet but I'm not his soldier. They were keeping you distracted long enough for a surprise on my behalf. So change into that and let's get going." Kimi had nodded before quickly changing, with some help from Nora. The two snuck and rushed to a vertibird where Haylen was waiting. "Let's get going before Maxson notices she not at the dinner hall." "Where are we going?" "You'll see, Kigra is covering for us, so are a few others." The vertibird had made it's way to Listening Post Bravo where not only was Danse out there waiting for them but so was Peach both wearing make shift bunny ears. "We thought since you worked so hard to make everyone else have some happiness we'd repay you. Go have fun we only have an hour before Maxson send out an army after you." Haylen and Nora had stayed in the vertibird as Kimi made her way to the other two.  Kimi had ran over to the tiny deathclaw, hugging it "Peachy! You look so cute with those on!" The deathclaw stared up at her before scratching at the string that was tied around to keep the ears on. "It was a pain to get them on him. I had to bait him to sit still." Kimi looked up at  Danse, smiling happily. "I'm sorry I'm late..Arth...Elder Maxson had me doing meaningless tasks." She stood up giving size to the Deathclaw. It stood about to her naval, and was a light pink almost white color hence it's name. "What your doing is very brave, Kimikyo. I know how much you dislike Elder Maxson and how he runs things. Just know I'm proud of you." "I'm doing it for you, you know." "I know." He had pulled her into a hug, with her returning the hug. Peach let out a rawr before squeezing between them, pushing them apart. Peach was defensive of Kimikyo which some though annoying, Kimikyo found it adorable. "I wish I could stay long, but I have to get going now." She scratched Peach's head, before taking the ears off him before looking at Danse. She tucked some hair behind her ear waiting for something to happen. "It was good seeing you soldier. Keep up the good work." He placed his hand on her shoulder this caused Nora and Haylen to groan in pain as they felt Kimikyo's confidence drop. Peach mimicked Kigra's normal face palm, covering his face with his claw. "Y-yea..you too!" Kimi let off a slight laugh before she went back to the vertibird, soon they were taking off. "You going to live after that one, kid?" "I can't believe Danse is so dense..don't worry he'll catch on sooner or later Kimi." "Thanks Haylen, and I don't think I will live Nora..that one hurt."  Back on the ground Peach gave Danse a 'Are you serious' look. "What?"  Peach let out a huff before turning, walking back in to the listening post. "What did I do?" Danse followed suit When the girls had arrived back at the Prydwen, the three girls got a talking to by Maxson which they were all prepared for. Nora said her goodbye to Kimi and Haylen before leaving. The other two then made their way to the dinning hall to get some left overs. "Don't let Elder Maxson get you down. He means well, and he's just looking out for you. Azumiral may not be after you but that doesn't mean you don't have enemies still." "I know Haylen. It just sucks that I'm twenty six and I still have a curfew. It's like Maxson is trying to be my dad." "Well better him then our actual father." Kigra stood behind the girls. "Kimikyo while you were gone, Maccready stopped by. Apparently he's the delivery boy now but looks like you got two letters from Goodnieghbor. I always dropped the camera off to Azumiral." Kimi took the letters from Kigra. She finished eating before she read them, one being from Maccready himself the other from Hancock.

"Hey, Hope you're doing well up there. It's been weeks since we talked. Are you still mad at me? I'm sorry, I didn't think you liked me that way...can we please talk in person I have news about Duncan. Don't worry it's good news! Plus I have something for you but I don't trust Kigra not to tease me about it. Meet up at the comic book store in two days? -Maccready" Kimi rolled her eyes, of course she was still hurt by him. He family-zoned her then rubbed salt in the wound by calling her 'little sis'. She then read Hancock's letter. "Kiddo! Thanks for bombing the town! A lot of people began to freak out though, but I thought it was funny. I explained to them what happened and they want to repay ya. Come to The third rail sometime! Magnolia wants to give you a gift for it and Fahrenheit says she's gonna knock ya one for the mass panic. Anyways got anymore holidays to celebrate?"   Kigra and Kimi giggled at the letter once Kigra had read it. "I guess we'll have to bring the rest of the holidays to the Commonwealth." "Maybe explain it to everyone before you do it this time girls." Haylen looked at them before the sisters nodded. "And no more suits for Maxson. Maybe we can convince Cade to wear the outfits next time." "Or proctor Ingram, I but she'd look cute in the bunny outfit."  The three girls had let out a laugh and soon enough they were all in their beds, fast asleep.  

[creepykingdom]

Episode 133 / Creepy Day 2 Halloween Time at Disneyland

SHOW NOTES:

On our second Creepy Day of 2017 we take a look at all of the Halloween offerings this year at the Disneyland Resort!  Including all of the brand new Halloween fun at Disney California Adventure and a review of this year’s Mickey’s Halloween Party!

REVIEW: (by Melissa A. Camacho)

It’s amazing what a little lighting and fog can do to get you in the Halloween spirit. At this year’s Mickey’s Halloween Party at the Disneyland Resort, both Disneyland and Disney’s California Adventure were decked out in fall and Halloween decorations. And for the first time ever, your ticket to Mickey’s Halloween Party allowed you into either Disneyland or DCA prior to the main event. In this review, I will be covering both parks and also giving you tips on this year’s party.

For those of you who have not heard of Mickey’s Halloween Party, it is a separate ticketed event that happens on select nights starting in mid September to Halloween at the Disneyland Resort in Anaheim. At this event, the park is closed early for regular attendees and the park is transformed into a full blown Halloween Party. Complete with a trick-or-treat candy trail, a dance party, Disney Villain appearances, the Frightfully Fun Parade and the Halloween Screams Fireworks; not to mention everybody is allowed to come in costume. Each year, this event sells out, and this year was no exception. So for those interested in attending next year, I highly recommend buying your tickets early.

We start off at Disney’s California Adventure. If you want to get a head start on your spooky day, take advantage of the early entry park-hopper and enjoy what DCA has to offer for the fall season. Early entry to either Disneyland or DCA starts three hours prior the main event. Unfortunately, I missed early entry this year (traffic coming up from San Diego was unusually bad) but, I was at DCA a few days earlier so I’m happy to report my take on the park on a regular day.

Before you even enter the park, you are welcomed by Oogie Boogie on top of the DCA entrance. As a huge fan of The Nightmare Before Christmas, I was already sold. I have never been into DCA around this time of year, so walking into Buena Vista street and seeing the vintage purple banners and bats immediately put a smile to my face. Going in farther, there is an epic Headless Horseman statue that exhales out smoke through its nostrils. It also makes noses and and lights up as the day goes darker.

Another new and bigger thing at DCA for this Halloween season is Cars Land’s Haul-O-Ween layover. Now, I am not a huge Cars fan, but this themed section of the park is my favorite. So adding a dash of spooky made it 10x, better in my opinion. There were car parts that created spider webs and ghouls. Many of the signs had creepy layovers which referenced classic Halloween and horror movies. Not to mention the perfectly themed treats they offered there which have been featured on numerous videos and instagram accounts by now. Luigi's Rollickin Roadsters had new music for your cars to dance to. And Ramone's House of Body Art was Day of the Dead themed complete with an altar for one of it’s characters. As a Mexican-American, it was really refreshing to see my culture being represented as genuinely as possible, considering the context of the land. I enjoyed it. My tip for this section of the park is to arrive at sundown. That’s when all the neon gets turned on and the whole environment feels different. Still cute, yet spooky.

Continuing with our trend of Day of the Dead, there is a Coco experience near Paradise Pier that features activities, music, dancers, folk art and food inspired by the Mexican tradition and movie. When I went to DCA a few days prior, I did not get to experience this part of the park myself, so I can’t give a first hand account of this seasonal experience. But, thanks to the internet, you can view all the colorful displays they have up.

Another new thing that DCA offers this season was Guardians of the Galaxy: Monsters After Dark, ride layover. Right out of the gate, the Guardians ride is noticeably different. The lights and projections on the building are different and kind of creepy. The story of the ride also changes, as you are now trying to help Rocket save Groot from the space monsters that have been let loose. I also felt that there were way more drops in this incarnation of the ride, which I highly enjoyed. The cool thing about this version, is that it’s not an all day layover. So if you want the little ones to enjoy the original, ride it during the day. My tip if you want to experience this scary version, is to ride it at or after the sun sets. It’s a digital layover so it gets converted in a short period of time.

Overall, the three hours you have at DCA will be enough time to look at all the new decorations and maybe ride a few things. Now onto onto Mickey’s Halloween Party at Disneyland.

I have attended this event for the first time last year and I immediately fell in love. If you’re a fan of Halloween and all things Disney, then this is the event for you. My boyfriend and I Disneybounded as Oogie Boogie and Jack Skellington, respectively. The one thing I love about Mickey’s Halloween Party is the small crowds. There is practically no wait for any of the rides. Another thing that makes the event so different is ambiance of the park. It immediately puts everybody in good creepy mood.

As huge Disneyland fans, we all know that Disney spares no expense when it comes to their seasonal decorations. Besides the cute fall leaves and pumpkins on main street and other parts of the park, Disney bumps it up a bit for their Halloween party. The colored lights turn on, the spooky sounds creep up and fog covers Rivers of America as the Cadaver Dans start making their way down on a raft. If there’s one section that screams out creepy Disney, it’s New Orleans Square by Rivers of America. If that’s not your thing, then I suggest taking a stroll down the newly opened Big Thunder Trail. If you’re coming up from the Frontierland side, keep an eye out for the creature that lives in the old train ride tunnel. I honestly don’t remember if that was there last year, but it really freaked me out. The sound effects and lighting in that little section made me feel uneasy. Which looking back… still freaks me out just thinking about it. I still don’t know what that was suppose to be and no Google search is helping me. So if you’re brave, go check it out.

Besides my irrational fears of things unknown, the majority of the event was amazing. If rides are your thing, as they were for me and my boyfriend, I highly suggest riding Space Mountain Ghost Galaxy and Haunted Mansion Holiday. These rides have seasonal layovers that really put you in the Halloween (or Christmas) spirit. As some of you might know, each year the gingerbread house in Haunted Mansion Holiday is changed. And this year, it features a humongous Oogie Boogie gingerbread man. Again, I am a sucker for this guy, so I loved it. Biases aside, I wish the doombuggies would move slower at the ballroom scene just so everybody can see and appreciate all the little details of the gingerbread houses. Especially considering that it is all real gingerbread and sweats. While Haunted Mansion Holiday is less scary once Jack takes over, in my opinion, I can’t say the same for Space Mountain’s layover. So if your children get easily frightened, I say skip Ghost Galaxy. I think it’s a bit loud and the projections might be too scary for your younger counterparts.

Now it’s not a Halloween Party without costumes and candy. While you see your usual and more traditional costumes, there are some that certainly stand out. Maybe it’s the Disney magic that sparks people’s creativity or the photo opportunities that the park offers. Either way, some people went all out. I only captured some spooky ones, but there were plenty more varieties that people dress up as too. While you people watch, I suggest taking advantage of the treat trail that spans the whole park. I personally didn’t stop at all of the candy spots, but I got enough candy to fill my Zero popcorn bucket. When you first enter the park, you are given a treat bag and a map of the treat trail. At some stops, there are healthier and allergy friendly options for the trick-or-treaters.

I am not one for Parades or Fireworks, but for this event, I try my best to make some time to watch it. First is the Frightfully Fun Parade. Before the parade begins, the Headless Horseman makes his way down on a real horse holding his pumpkin head. Then parade begins. The floats are given as much detail as the regular parade floats but better because they feature spooky characters and Disney Villains. The parade itself is rather short but cute for what it is. They run it twice throughout the night. Now for the fireworks, I highly suggest either being in front of the castle or in the middle of main street. Both the castle and main street have projections casted on them. I was on the side of the castle closer to Frontierland and still had a decent view. Like I said before, I’m not much of a fireworks person, but this one sold me with the theme, projections, synced fireworks and pyrotechnics. If you ever attend Mickey’s Halloween Party, I suggest finding a good spot and watching it at least once.

Overall, Mickey’s Halloween Party is defiantly one of my favorite events to attend at Disneyland. I’m an annual passholder and I will gladly pay the extra money to attend this event. It has the perfect mix of Disney and creepy. I give this year’s event a five poison apples out of five poison apples rating.

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PICTURES: (By Melissa A. Camacho, Little Nikki, & James H. Carter II)

[rjhamster]

The Berean - Deuteronomy 12:29-32

(29) "When the LORD your God cuts off from before you the nations which you go to dispossess, and you displace them and dwell in their land, (30) take heed to yourself that you are not ensnared to follow them, after they are destroyed from before you, and that you do not inquire after their gods, saying, "How did these nations serve their gods? I also will do likewise." (31) You shall not worship the LORD your God in that way; for every abomination to the LORDwhich He hates they have done to their gods; for they burn even their sons and daughters in the fire to their gods. (32) "Whatever I command you, be careful to observe it; you shall not add to it nor take away from it. New King James Version   Change your email Bible version

Halloween is a custom of the nations. God Himself calls such things abominations, practices that He hates. If we strip away its façade of revelry and feasting, it is idolatrous false worship, honoring spirit beings that are not God. In addition, God never tells us to celebrate this day or in any way to honor the spirits of the dead.

Notice that He warns us not to be "ensnared to follow" the practices of the nations. A snare is a trap designed to catch an unwary animal. The trap itself is hidden, but what is visible is a kind of lure, an attractive trick designed to fool the prey into entering the trap. Once it takes the bait, the gate comes down, a hook comes out, or a spring slams closed on a limb, and the prey is trapped.

God is alerting us to the fact that heathen or ungodly practices—customs, ways of worship, traditions, celebrations—usually have characteristics that appeal to our human nature. They are the lures. We can become caught up in them before we are aware of it. God advises us to watch out for the hidden dangers, the appealing entrapments, that are designed into these holidays.

Many cultures have a form of Halloween in their tradition. It seems that most of this world's peoples desire to celebrate the dead. The holidays or feasts may vary from place to place, falling on different days and following different customs. The common denominator is that they all honor or remember the dead or unseen spirits.

Mexico has its "Day of the Dead" in which participants give out candies in the shape of skeletons and visit graveyards to commune with the dead by leaving them food. In Japan, they honor their ancestors with various celebrations. Certain African tribes set aside days to honor the unseen spirits, warding off the evil ones and placating the good. German, Scandinavian, Spanish, Italian, and many other cultures have a Halloween-type holiday.

In English-speaking countries, Halloween derives primarily from the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced "sow-in"). Samhain, held on the three days around November 1, was a kind of New Year's celebration and harvest festival all rolled up into one.

The Celts believed that these three days were special because of the transition from the old year to the new. They felt that during this time the boundary between the physical and spiritual worlds relaxed or lifted, allowing spirits to cross over more easily. This idea, of course, terrifies superstitious people—that departed spirits could walk among us, especially those who died in the past year as it was thought these spirits desired to return to the mortal realm. For this reason, they believed they had to appease the spirits to make them go into the spirit world and stay there.

The Celts did this by putting out food and treats so that, when these spirits came floating by their houses, they would pass on. They thought that, if they did not appease the spirits, they would play tricks or put curses on them. Whole villages would unite to drive away the evil spirits, ensuring that the upcoming year would be good. Others among them would hold séances or conduct other kinds of divination by incantation, potion, or trance to contact dead ancestors in hope of receiving guidance and inspiration.

An interesting aspect of this transition time—the three days of Samhain—is that it was considered to be "no time," a time unto itself. Thus, it became a tradition that the order and the rules by which people lived were held in abeyance during them.

All laws went unenforced. The social order was turned upside-down—the fool became king, and the king became the fool. Men dressed as women and vice-versa. People took on different personas, dressing in disguise and acting the part. No work was done during this period of total abandon, for it was a time for revelry, drinking, eating, making and taking dares, and breaking the law. In a word, it was chaos.

Then Roman Catholicism arrived on the scene and "converted" the pagans. It also decreed a day to honor departed saints: May 13, All Saints' Day. The priests instructed the "converted" pagans to keep All Saints' Day, but they continued to celebrate Samhain because it was so much more fun than attending church to pray for the hallowed saints of yesteryear.

To keep them in the fold, in AD 835 Pope Gregory IV officially authorized moving All Saints' Day to November 1 to coincide with Samhain. He allowed the pagan "Christians" to keep their old customs as long as they put a gloss of Christianity on them. Thus, they kept Samhain in the name of Christ to honor the departed saints.

Like Samhain, All Saints' Day began the evening before, which was called All Hallows' Eve, All Saints' Eve, or Halloween. Since then, Halloween has evolved into its present form, in which nothing remotely Christian remains. It is known for all its pre-Christian Celtic practices—particularly the recognition of the spirit world in the form of fairies, witches, ogres, goblins, demons, ghouls, vampires, etc.

Today, "trick-or-treating" is the most recognized of Halloween activities, and it is simply a form of extortion. Children, whether they know it or not, are acting as the spirits who will play a trick or put a curse on the one who does not pay up in food or treats. Divination and séances are also commonly held on October 31. Hooliganism—tricks resulting in vandalism—often reaches its high point on Halloween. For many years, Detroit was the scene of "hell night," in which rampaging young people trashed large areas of the city, setting fires, smashing cars and windows, looting, and generally creating havoc.

The Celtic feast of Samhain still survives in Halloween. It has simply reverted to our ancestors' Celtic practice.

— Richard T. Ritenbaugh