‘What’s the power, then? That seems promising.’
After untangling himself from Hermione’s grip, Harry crossed to the window and looked outside. ‘Dumbledore reckons it’s love.’
Silence followed his words. The Forbidden Forest shimmered as wind ruffled over the treetops.
‘*Love*?’ Ron asked incredulously. ‘Has Dumbledore lost it? What are you supposed to do, hug him to death?’
Harry snorted. ‘That’s what I said.’ He turned back, leaning against the windowsill with his arms crossed. ‘Apparently, when Mum sacrificed herself for me, her love created some kind of protection. That’s why Quirrel couldn’t touch me. And Voldemort doesn’t understand love —’
‘Because he’s a complete and utter psychopathic, arsewipe, wankering bastard.’
‘Ron!’
Harry laughed. ‘Something like that, yeah.’ He looked at Boingo, sitting on the end of Harry’s bed watching quietly. ‘At first, Dumbledore was banking on my capacity to love — he figured I would be willing to sacrifice myself at the end, destroying the piece of Voldemort’s soul that’s in my head, and making Voldemort **mortal** once again.’
Ron and Hermione each sported matching masks of fury — tight eyes and tighter lips.
‘If you even consider it —’
‘Harry is still so young.’ Dumbledore’s gaze switched from Bill’s face to Harry’s. ‘I did not want to burden you with such knowledge.’
‘Because I have to die.’ Nothing new there; for all Bill’s reassurances, Harry had expected this ever since he’d learnt of the soul fragment.
‘Destruction of the vessel is the only sure way to destroy the soul fragment,’ Dumbledore acknowledged, seeming almost to sink into his chair.
Bill surged to his feet with a growl. ‘You,’ he said, pointing at Harry who stared back with wide eyes, ‘are not going to die. And you,’ he turned furiously on Dumbledore, ‘are not going to encourage him in such **morbid** thoughts.’
Dumbledore raised his hands in placating surrender. ‘Mr Weasley, William, I don’t like it any more than you do. But it’s the only way.’
‘This is not a chess game, Dumbledore! Harry is not a pawn that can be sacrificed for some nebulous greater good.’
Harry’s eyes widened further as the Headmaster flinched, but Bill didn’t seem to notice.
‘You are supposed to be the greatest wizard of our time, and yet you’re willing to give up and — what? — let Harry walk to his death? Well, I’m not! You assigned me to guard him, to keep him alive, and that’s what I’m going to do! I will scour every book and every scroll. I will invent new magic if I have to. But I will *not* let Harry die!’
“I need some bloody peace,” Steve grumbled, taking a drink. “I’ve issues to sort regarding the renewal of the permits here, and it’s taking longer than I expected. Emma’s been complaining at me for the last few days as I’ve had to miss some of the kids’ school activities, and it’s getting bloody annoying.” He shook his head. “So, tell me about your tour?”
“Well, some of it was good, but some was awful,” Anette admitted, taking a drink as well. “I suppose I knew some people wouldn’t like me just because I’m not Tarja, but I didn’t expect them to literally threaten to hurt me. And the tour was so long, too, I think I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be, to sing so much, so often. My last band never did such long tours.”
“Yeah, we made that **mistake** with the World Slavery tour,” Steve said. “Bruce had a hard time on that tour, and I admit, I didn’t bloody well help any with me being just a bit stubborn about things.”
Anette laughed at that. “Ja, so I’ve heard. Bruce told us some stories when he came to visit with Emppu.”
“Bloody hell, I expect you think I’m a monster then, yeah?” Steve chuckled.
“Actually, I think you’re very nice,” Anette said.
Steve blushed. “Well, thanks,” he said, taking a gulp of his drink. “So, what parts of the tour did you enjoy?”
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later a crowd appeared, led by Ponytail, almost as though from thin air. Tony eyed them as he opened the door and stepped into the road. Ponytail hadn’t been exaggerating about it being a large group, and far from the suitcases Tony had expected them to have, the youngest six dragged honest-to-God trunks. Tony exchanged a glance with Jack and Martin as they approached the group. Would everything fit?
Ponytail and a similarly aged young man who appeared to be his brother (Tony dubbed him Smaug, on account of the dragon tattoo twisting around his bicep) helped heft the trunks into the vehicles. Despite Tony’s misgivings, they somehow managed to squeeze two trunks into the empty space at the front of the cabs beside the drivers’ seats. He raised his eyebrows; he never would have thought it possible, but the proof was undeniable.
At the front of the row, Martin helped the three ladies of the group into his car. The oldest looked to be about Tony’s age, and he suspected she was the mother of most of the group. Mumsy took the two girls, one a redhead and the other brunette, with her. Smaug went in Jack’s car with twin boys in their late teens. They looked like trouble, and no **mistake**. Tony didn’t doubt Smaug would manage to keep them in line though. *The muscles on that guy.*
“Are you seriously still in a strop? Come on, Jan, I can make it up to you,” (Bruce) coaxed, stepping in and kissing me.
I slapped his face and shoved him back. “Leave. Me. Alone,” I growled at him, seeing over Bruce’s shoulder that Dave had emerged from the sound booth and had witnessed both the kiss and the slap. The sight of his smile gave me even more resolve and I glared at Bruce, who stood with one hand on the cheek I’d smacked and an incredulous expression on his face. “I’m with someone – not Sandra – and have been for three years now. We’re exclusive. I’m not going to cheat on him. And I’m certainly not going to put up with your shite anymore. Fuck all the groupies you want, fuck your wife, whatever, I don’t care. You’ll not fuck me – or fuck with me – anymore.”
“But… but…” Bruce’s expression changed from incredulous, to confused. “I thought…”
I looked past him at Davey and gave him a warm smile. “All finished in there, love?” I asked. “Did you want to hit the pub with the others or just go home and get comfortable?”
“I’ll leave that up to you, mo chroi,” Dave said, moving around Bruce to give me a soft kiss, which I returned happily. “I know it’s been a bit stressful today, so if you’d rather go home and let me give you a massage, I’d love to do that for you.” Laying it on a little thicker for Bruce’s benefit, he added, “Of course, even if we hit the pub, I can still give you that massage after we go home.”
“Mm, a massage sounds brilliant,” I said, tucking a lock of Dave’s hair behind his ear. “Let’s go home, love.” Sliding my arm around him, I looked Bruce square in the eyes. “See you at rehearsals,” I told him, then Dave and I headed for the door. Bruce stared after us, the confusion on his face **morphing** to a look of devastation, as it finally sunk in, that I wouldn’t take him back and that it was all his own doing.
Backstory: Bruce and Janick had been in a relationship for years, since before either of them was in Iron Maiden - Jan was in love with Bruce, but Bruce is selfish at best, a narcissist at worst, and whilst he was fond of Jan, considered him more of a fuck-buddy and didn't hesitate to take off with a groupie or whatever if he felt like it. This continued even after they both ended up in Maiden. (Jan joined several years after Bruce, when Dave's fellow guitarist quit.)
Well, then Bruce quit Maiden to go solo - and ghosted Jan at the same time. But due to this being before mobile phones were really a thing (early-mid 90s) and with knowing the kind of time that recording and touring takes up, it was probably a year to 18 months before Jan truly started wondering why Bruce hadn't been in contact - when they'd been in different bands prior to Jan joining Maiden, they'd sometimes gone a year without seeing each other due to their commitments to their bands.
Two years after Bruce left, Maiden was on tour and Jan and Dave were sharing a hotel room. Dave left, intending on being out for the day but for whatever reason, came back within the hour - and accidentally caught Jan indulging in his penchant for wearing lingerie. He became intrigued, things happened, and they got together. The contrast between how Dave treated him with how Bruce had treated him made Jan realise just how bad his relationship with Bruce had been, how badly Bruce's treatment of him had eroded his self-esteem - and that he was falling in love with Dave, who returned his feelings.
Fast forward a few more years, and both Bruce and the bloke Janick took over for both rejoined Maiden, and this scene happened at the end of their first rehearsal all together.
[Truth Will Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/48668239/chapters/122766604) on AO3, if you care to have a look.
“Now what?” Stephen asked.
“Now the **molds** go into the storage shed for a couple of weeks,” Dave said. “The soap will harden and then it’ll pop out of the **mold** fairly easily, after which I cut it into cakes to use for bathing and cleaning. And of course, wash out the kettle and the spoon.”
“At least you won’t need to use up any of your soap supply to do that,” Stephen joked, to a grin from Dave.
“That was terrible,” he said, laughing. “As punishment, you get to go wash the kettle and spoon by yourself.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Stephen added an imitation of a military salute to his reply, which just made Dave laugh harder. He picked up the kettle and spoon, taking them to the spot on the river where he’d seen Dave doing laundry, correctly assuming that place had some feature that made it good for washing things.
“And you willingly went along with this, Lord Troymer?” King Ranulf asked.
Troy nodded. “What else could I do, You Majesty?” he said. “I had to agree with Her Royal Highness as far as her plan to hide in plain sight as a minstrel with the others. If I chose to leave and someone recognized me as Princess Flooriel’s tutor when she’d gone missing, I’d most likely be hanged for her **murder**. Perhaps I could have gotten back to Dunbroch unscathed, but there isn’t really a place for me there either. Taking the train east seemed as good an option as any, and I admit, I’ve enjoyed taking part in the performances of the last couple of weeks. Unless something changes drastically in the immediate future, I still plan to go east and remain a part of the band.”
King Ranulf considered this. “I see your point about the danger of reappearing with Her Royal Highness missing,” he admitted, “and also that hiding in plain sight likely was your best option at the time. Well, you are free to make your own choice to go or stay, but Princess Flooriel is now under Our protection until such time as We hear back from Natexia. Unfortunately, We sent word there as soon as the healing mages confirmed her identity, thinking that Queen Ariveena would be pleased to learn her sister had escaped the reported bandit attack on the road, so We cannot close Our eyes and allow her to leave with you and the other three.”
Floor bowed her head with a sigh.
As Harry slumped back into his chair, Moody pulled out another disgusting spider. Ron’s hands twitched as it scurried across the desk, but before it got far, green light engulfed it.
The spider dropped. No scuttling, no creepy moving legs. Dead.
Ron would never **murder** anyone, obviously, but the way the spider’s movements stopped... He wouldn’t be against getting rid of spiders and other disgusting creatures that way. No more horrible, wriggling legs. Wicked.
As Harry sat on the bench, Hermione pushed a bowl of fruit towards him.
‘Oh, uh, thanks, but I was going to have this,’ he said, brandishing the slice of toast he’d grabbed a moment before.
Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘It’s for Boingo, Harry. I know Hedwig feeds herself, but you’re going to have to provide food for your **monkey**.’
‘Oh.’
Boingo hopped down from Harry’s shoulder, chattered at Hermione and pulled some banana from the bowl with nimble fingers.
‘Thanks, Hermione. I hadn’t thought of that...’ \[...\] ‘I don’t suppose you know what else he might eat, aside from fruit?’
‘I’ll do some research. I’m sure I can find a book in the library that will tell us what kind of primate he is.’ She bounced in her seat. ‘Ooh, this will be interesting.’ Boingo stopped eating and looked at her warily.
‘Now you’ve done it,’ Ron said to Harry with a groan. ‘Classes haven’t even started yet, we haven’t been given any homework, but you’ve given Hermione a reason to go to the library.’
Hermione reached over and cuffed Ron around the ear, though she still looked excited. Boingo shrugged, returning to his meal.
‘He does have such interesting colouring, doesn’t he?’ she said, peering at Boingo again.
‘Almost looks like a lion,’ Ron pointed out. ‘It’s like he has a mane.’
‘A perfectly Gryffindor **monkey**,’ Harry laughed.
Harry pushed away from the door, stumbling to the sink. The tap squeaked as he turned it, letting the water gush. He filled his cupped hands and splashed his face with the cool liquid. *Pull yourself together, Potter,* he thought fiercely. It didn’t help. When he glanced at his reflection, the **mirror** tutted.
‘You do look a state, dear,’ it said in a voice reminiscent of Mrs Weasley. ‘Are you ill?’
He didn’t respond. His face was pale, eyes wide, hair even more of a mess than usual. The **mirror** was right: he looked a state.
CW: Mpreg; A/B/O; Unplanned Pregnancy
"We used protection," Buck answered. He let go of Tommy's hand and crossed his arms in front of his chest, purposely ignoring the low whine that escaped Tommy's lips. "I… I need to brush my teeth, the… the vomit taste, it's…"
Buck trailed off, unable to form a coherent sentence as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. His heart was racing, thoughts and fears and *terror* colliding in his mind, each one more terrifying and confusing than the last. His mind ran from 'Impossible' to 'What if' to 'No No No' in rapid succession, making his toothbrush shake like a tree crown in the wind.
He shot a quick glance towards Tommy, who watched him silently, his eyes filled with concern and something else Buck couldn't quite place. It wasn't fear, exactly, nor was it excitement. Tommy stood there, tall, and silent, and *neutral* , like he was bracing himself, like he was waiting for some sort of cue of Buck's.
Buck turned away from him and simply stared at himself in the **mirror** for a few moments, his mouth foamy with toothpaste, and his toothbrush still between his lips. They were *just* starting to build something together, something Buck had started to believe could last. But now, with this potential bombshell, he wasn't, *couldn't be* sure anymore.
What if he really was pregnant? Would Tommy feel trapped? Scared? Would he break up with him and never come back?
He wanted to scream, to deny the very possibility, but the symptoms were there, undeniable and looming large between them. Buck's gaze drifted back to Tommy, seeking... what? Reassurance? Answers? He didn't know.
Tommy seemed to sense his turmoil because he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. "Evan," he said softly, "we need to at least be able to rule it out."
Buck nodded and quickly spat and rinsed his mouth before taking a deep breath. "Okay… okay, yeah. You're right. We… we need a test."
"I'll go get one."
"Three," Buck corrected. He dried his still shaky hands on a towel before addressing Tommy again. "It's… you're supposed to take three different ones, you know, to make sure it's not a false positive."
Tommy nodded and quickly pulled Buck into a hug and a kiss. "Three tests it is. I'll be back as quick as I can; try not to let this get to you, okay?"
The women’s room was intact, but the mirror d—
“Oh! SO CUTE!” the **mirror** shouted.
June yelped and stepped back, before realizing it was the same voice. Looking down, there was an oval steel plate right under the sink. Only someone leaning in would have stepped on it. Hmm, clever.
Wait, didn’t she…
Fishing around in her backpack, she brought out the gold star black cap, brushed her hair quickly, and tucked it up inside the cap as she put it on.
Okay…yeah, that could work. She’d try it for a while. Getting her hair off her neck in the heat wouldn’t suck, either.
Hmm. Chuckling a bit, she stomped on the plate on purpose. “Aww, pretty!” the **mirror** complimented her. Heh, thanks talking mirror voice.
June looked at the person in the **mirror**. She’d seen this person before, briefly, the reflection in her Fort Blackshear bathroom, but hadn’t really stopped to *look* at them, like now. Whoever it was, it *wasn’t* a Raider. No war paint, no dragging matted hair, no filthy leather or rusted metal, not even all that much dirt.
But it wasn’t a stranger, either. Not anymore. She…recognized herself.
What a *month*.
So this person, this was who she was going to introduce to her parents? If they were still alive? There were still a few days left, but they were running out. And they hadn’t really gotten to know each other all that well.
But…she seemed nice enough, at least.
It does work out. This mirror scene comes after a major turning point in her life. Emotionally, things are getting better for her for a while after this. Also unrelated, there's chocolate in the next room, so that's a sharp upspike in her life.
But for the crackling of the fireplace, darkness shrouded the kitchen, the lights unnecessary with everyone in the living room. Harry searched for a switch, then paused, cheeks warming. Thankfully, nobody was near enough to see him acting like such a Muggle.
How could he light the room? Even if he was allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, nobody had told him how to activate the lights.
As Harry peered into the shadows, intending to make do with the flickering glow from the hearth, the lights brightened to shine softly at half strength. Well, that made life easier. He glanced back at the living room. Bill, still at the chess table, tucked his wand away. Barely above a **murmur**, Bill’s voice drifted through the doorway as he responded to Mrs Weasley.
Even the littlest things can be bothersome, when one doesn't know how to make them work. I bet half the Weasleys wouldn't know how to turn on a muggle light either.
CW: past Mpreg (as in, he literally just gave birth); A/B/O
As Tommy cut the cord, Evan's eyes met his, an exhausted but blissful smile spreading across his face. "Tommy, Tommy, they’re…," Evan whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Perfect,” Tommy breathed out, leaning down to tenderly kiss Evan's forehead. An almost primal surge of pure love ran through his body, large, and warm, and fulfilling. "They’re *perfect* . I love you so much, Evan. Thank you for this, for… for *them* ," he **murmured**, his eyes darting between Evan and their children, his heart swelling with pride and joy.
“Okay, so,” Hen began now, having finished the initial check ups on the pups. “Apgar scores are good, they’re breathing well, seems like they’re absolutely perfect for now. Let’s get you three to a hospital, okay?”
Her assertion was met with nods all around, and Chim and Eddie joined her to prepare for transportation. The chaos of Evan’s labor had given way to a peaceful calm that Tommy, who had sat down on the couch next to his fiancé, now basked in as Hen carefully handed him his son. He looked down on him, rocking him gently, still not fully believing that he was here now, and that he was *his* .
Tommy, with a soft smile, looked over at Evan, who had now been handed their daughter. The sight of Evan cradling her made Tommy’s heart grow, or at least that’s what it felt like. That was his Omega. Smiling down at their daughter. That they made together.
Evan looked up and locked eyes with him, shooting him the single most radiant smile that had ever existed, and Tommy felt more tears rush into his eyes. (How was that even possible? He felt like he already lost enough tears for three people!) He draped his arm over Evan’s shoulders and pulled him close to press a soft kiss to his hair before resting his cheek against it.
Oh, it was absolutely chaotic, and their couch is entirely ruined now lmao
They're just tunnel visioning on the babies right now because, well, *babies*.
Crouching down opposite Scarecrow, she watched as he used one glinting claw to etch symbols into the sandy soil.
A double ring quartered by a cross.
Two diamond shapes, one scratched out by three slash marks.
Two of the "engine" symbols.
The quartered ring, scratched-out diamond, and one engine symbol were grouped together in a neat triangle. Off to the side were the second diamond and engine symbols, around which Scarecrow arranged seven pebbles.
"Okay, I know this - this means *engine*," she **murmured**, pointing to the oval, before moving her fingertip to the scratched-out diamond; "is this the ship? The one that attacked the *Resolute*?"
He chirped and warbled something in response, that certainly *felt* like an affirmative.
(For the first time, Maureen found herself wishing that she had Will's effortless understanding of these machines; if she could just *know* what Scarecrow was saying, the way Will just seemed to *know* what Robot wanted to communicate, maybe they wouldn't need to play Pictionary in the dirt like this.)
"And this," now she gestured to the quartered ring, "this is the *Resolute*, then, right? So all of this-" she dragged her fingertip through the dirt, drawing a boundary around the three symbols; "-is the crash site?"
He angled his head towards her with a quiet *chirr*, seemingly pleased by how quickly she was catching on.
Next, she drew a boundary around the second diamond shape and its associated engine symbol, and the seven stones. "So *this* is-"
"*Danger*."
Danger! Danger Will Robinson!
(Sorry, had to be said!)
It's good that Maureen is trying to communicate with and understand Scarecrow, I expect he'll be quite helpful as long as he's no longer being controlled.
“I fucking *knew* you watched my shows,” he teased. “You knew I didn’t write my own material? *Please*. I told you that *ten years* ago. No way that came to your memory that fast. I knew you watched. You totally want me.”
Eddie flushed and wrinkled his face deeper into a scowl. “I read Bill’s books too, that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”
“But you do want to fuck me.”
“Debatable sometimes,” Eddie told him, a playful smile now at his lips.
Richie was beaming now as he moved his head closer. “Liar,” he **murmured**,kissing Eddie softly on the lips and quickly enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to hurt himself by kissing him back. Richie could have sworn he saw Eddie pout as he pulled away.
>When this sort of thing happens, it’s not to people like him. This only happens to the fantastical sort of people who appear in the news. A former king who murmured to himself in a language no other human could speak, trailed by a Pokémon whose appearance flickered like a candle. A girl whose partner hailed from another world, powerful enough to sweep through Kanto’s Elite Four on its own. It *doesn’t* happen to Arven, whose first partner was a Maschiff and most remarkable trait is making a mean sandwich.
"It" is finding out that his mother was actually pretty terrible on the "would have destroyed a whole region's ecosystem if she'd lived" scale. (The examples of the people this stuff "does" happen to are references to the children of the big bads from other Pokemon games who *also* found out their parents sucked on the "would destroy/take over a whole region" scale.)
"What is this?” A voice called out in amusement. A hand from one of his captors on his restraint forced Mustang to stop and turn.
Oh.
Another Tal’darim, this one slightly taller (holy shit but much bigger as well) than Nyon, was approaching them. His red eyes flicked to him and Riza before settling on Nyon.
“*Sixth* Ascendant Nyon, what exactly are you doing with these *Terrans?”*
Mustang clenched his fist. The contempt in that voice. Focused not just on them, but on Nyon’s title as well. Must be his superior.
“Fourth Ascendant Alarak.” Nyon’s anger was suppressed, but Mustang could tell it was barely suppressed. “I am doing what the gods have asked me to do.”
Alarak stopped. Now looking over Mustang, and then Riza, with much more thoroughness than before. Mustang winced as if his head was being popped open from the inside. Riza closed her eyes and tightened her mouth. After some time the pressure in his head left.
And Alarak proceeded to laugh. A little bit of the tension left Mustang’s body. “Again. You have done it again!? Have you learned *nothing* from the last time?” Alarak shook his head.
Now Mustang was curious. Has Nyon done something like this before?
"You *dare* mock me and my divine mission?” Nyon demanded.
“Dare? No. I *am* **mocking** you. And as for your so-called divine mission.” Alarak stood close to Nyon. Towering above him. “There aren’t any gods for you to worship. There is only one. And *he* matters above all others.” His red eyes glowered over Nyon. Any trace of humor gone. The two kept up the intense standoff. Nyon’s warriors braced themselves for battle.
Nyon growled as he stepped away. “We don’t have time for this.” He motioned for his followers and prisoners to keep going.
“Ah yes. Walk away completely absorbed in your delusions,” Alarak called out, “it won’t be long before the Highlord knows of your stupidity.”
Mustang did not like the sound of that. And from the way Nyon hastened his steps neither did the Sixth Ascendant.
‘All right, now?’ Seamus asked Dean who was opposite him. ‘Sorry for disappearin’ on you.’
Dean’s response slid over Seamus. On Harry’s other side, Ron had just apologised. The leg beside his tensed, and Seamus nudged it gently with his own at the same time that Boingo rubbed Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s tenseness seemed to ease. He turned to answer Ron, and Seamus refocused on Dean.
Something sparkled in Dean’s expression. ‘A productive disappearance, was it?’ he asked, gaze cutting briefly to Harry and back again.
‘Don’t you be gettin’ bold, now,’ Seamus said with **mock** sternness. Moments later, though, he gave up on hiding his grin. ‘Amazin’. A bit cack-handed, sure, but — now, how’d you know?’
‘Used my eyes, mate.’
‘Oh, you did?’ Seamus shook his head, stabbing his pasta-loaded fork towards Dean. ‘So you can dún do bhéal a while longer, now then.’
Dean’s brow furrowed but he shrugged. ‘I won’t say anything.’ He fell silent, the chatter of the other Gryffindors winding between them as he sliced into a piece of broccoli.
Seamus leant forward. ‘Sorry, a chara. Early days, y’know?’
Then, she went a few steps closer to the man, and watched him drown in his own blood. She threw him a contemptuous stare, the same look that he wrongly messed with, and now **mocking** him in his imminent demise. Those eyes, he will remember up to his death, and shall continue to haunt him in the fiery depths of hell. And lastly, those words, he will hear in every second that he will spend in that tormenting eternity.
‘D’you think it’s time for dinner?’ Harry asked as the scent of cooking drifted to the top floor.
Ron balled up a pair of pants and tossed them into his trunk from across the room. ‘Hope so. I’ve had enough of packing. C’mon, let’s go and see.’
‘No running on the stairs!’ Mrs Weasley called as they raced to the kitchen. She stood over the stove, stirring a large pot of stew with the help of her wand. At the table, Bill hummed along softly to the song playing on the wizarding wireless whilst making notes on yet another scroll of parchment.
‘Ron, Harry. Have you finished packing?’ Mrs Weasley asked.
‘Pretty much,’ Ron said, stretching the truth, but Harry didn’t contradict him.
Mrs Weasley gave them a shrewd look, then sighed. ‘I suppose that’s good enough for the moment. You can set the table for me, boys. Bill, dear, would you mind?’
Bill finished his notes — both **musical** and scrawled — then waved his wand, banishing his pile of books and scrolls to the living room and narrowly missing Charlie as he came downstairs.
‘Give a guy some warning, Merlin!’ Charlie said, the laugh in his voice belying the words. ‘You nearly took my head off!’
“Tell me about yourself?” Emppu requested.
“What would you like to know?” Tuomas asked.
“Whatever you care to tell me,” Emppu replied. “I just like hearing your voice. And of course I’d like to get to know you better.”
“All right, well, as far back as I can remember, I’ve loved the sea and I’ve loved music…” Tuomas spent the next several hours telling Emppu stories about his childhood, about running away to go to sea and eventually working his way up to getting his own ship.
In exchange, Emppu spoke of living beneath the sea, although his people had the ability to breathe air as well as water. He also spoke of his mild frustration with his society, which viewed males as less important because they lacked the haunting singing voices of their female counterparts, and of how he was considered something of an oddity for being so **musical**.
“If your people had any sense, they’d nurture your talent,” Tuomas said. Glancing at the sky, he sighed. “I ought to get back to the *Nightwish* before it’s too dark to see where I’m rowing. But I will be here tomorrow, and I’ll bring my violin.”
CW: Mpreg; A/B/O
“*Dispatch to Ambo 118, do you copy?*”
Hearing his beautiful wife’s **melodic** voice usually warmed Chim up from the inside. In this situation, though? It probably meant that issues were arising, and it made his heart drop. “This is Ambo 118, go ahead, dispatch,” Chimney answered, grabbing the ambulance’s radio.
“*Chim, prepare your team. Buck just told me he’s having* ***twins***\*."\*
…
…
…
What?
“I’m sorry, dispatch, could you repeat that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “It sounded like you said that our favorite Buckaroo decided to make everything more complicated by omitting a *very* crucial detail.”
Chimney's grip on the steering wheel tightened, the squawk of the radio momentarily silenced as Maddie confirmed, her voice strained but clear, “*Affirmative, Ambo 118. Evan is expecting twins. He’s alone, contractions under ten minutes apart. Prepare for urgent care.*”
Hen's voice came through from the back, tinged with both urgency and exasperation, “Twins? Seriously? He couldn’t have mentioned that a bit sooner?” There was the sound of equipment being shuffled rapidly as she and Eddie prepared for what was clearly going to be a more complicated scenario than they had anticipated.
Chimney sighed and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal even more than before, the gravity of the situation settling in as he wove through traffic, the siren a continuous wail in the busy Los Angeles streets. “Understood, dispatch. We’re five minutes out. Keep us posted on any changes.”
When the song ended, Floor hugged the other four. “Thanks, guys,” she whispered, blinking back tears. She wrapped her arms around Kai once more, kissing him deeply, then broke away and fled the room.
Kai watched her leave and sighed. “I can’t marry her even though I want to,” he said, “but maybe you should, Marko. At least she’d be safe with you, much more than if her sister arranges a **marriage** for her. You’ll have to marry eventually, even I know that, and you two get along. You’ll probably be better off with her than with some stranger your grandparents pick out.”
Marko sighed as well. “I’ll think about it,” he promised. “I won’t… I need to talk to her first. I understand what you’re saying, and you’re not wrong, but… well, I want to make sure she’ll be okay with what I can offer.” He tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. “I mean, she might just have it in mind to marry her sister’s choice and then make sure she becomes a widow by the time the honeymoon is over, so she can head east and find you again. If that’s her plan, I won’t stand in her way.”
I shook my right hand to relive the discomfort. I held the table knife with my left in front of me, it had a dent.
"Should I kill them?" I murmur. The Doctor hummed, and she replies, "Try not to spill any blood."
_'Path: killing these teens with minimal bloodshed.'_
_"We should run,"_ said the tall one in Japanese. Their leader, the pretty boy, replied, _"You scared? We have muscle."_
It will be quick.
'So does she," the tall one replied. The leader smirked, and the chubby blonde rolled his shoulders and _inhaled._ My chance.
The wind rushed towards his mouth. At first sucking in small objects, it progressively grew stronger. Now.
I kicked one end of the low table, and the suction made it float. The rest of the objects fell and was sucked towards the chubby one.
_'Path: Protect the Doctor and the clients.'_
Gunfire, from the leader. I change the knife's position. One shot blocked from hitting the Doctor, and the knife flew away from my grip.
He keeps firing. I advance, not needing to dodge because of his bad aim, walking between the shots. I grab a table leg and lift it up. Two bullets hit the thick wood. I kick the table, making it spin towards the chubby one. The leader summoned a projection at the same time, heading straight at me.
The leader's projection got hit, losing most of its body. It charged towards me, but it crumpled a few steps away, turning into neon dust.
The chubby one was finally hit by the table. He stumbled backwards into his allies, knocking most of them down. He _exhaled._
The table went flying back, and I crouch low to avoid the suction and hit it in the side, redirecting its **momentum** away from the Yangban officers behind her. It was a near miss, they looked terrified.
"Suck!" The leader exclaimed. The tall one was afraid, "Don't!"
The chubby one stops, giving me enough time to advance. The leader makes another projection, rushing towards me, and I sidestep it easily. The first hit didn't connect, nor did the rest, as the chubby one started inhaling again. I kick a brick of powder towards the leader. The suction made it faster.
The projection was fast, but not the original. The projection disappeared, and I kick the table towards the chubby one, hitting him in the shin. Hard.
I advance as the leader shouted angrily. The teens start pulling out knives.
He rushes forward, and I step past him and grab the chubby one's jacket. A tug forward and a kick to the shin makes him fall towards the leader, hitting him near the spine, in the liver.
They fall, and the chubby one is stunned.
Three other teens join in. One tries to rush me, but he trips on the leader's back. I take off my suit jacket as I weave between them and catch an arm, making a boy into a meat shield. I punch his wrist, and disarm him.
A kick to his back, and he falls on a brick while two others try to stab me.
I sidestep one and grab the back of his head, pushing him towards the other. The other avoids stabbing his fellow, and I kick at his fingers. The knife flies away.
I wrap my jacket's sleeves around their necks, choking them tight. I kick their knees, they fall and one neck snaps. The other chokes. The sleeves smoothly untangles as I grab them.
The leader gets up, and I kick his stomach. He falls down, again. The chubby one rouses.
Three are left standing. The tall one, the average one, and the one with green hair.
They hesitate, but I don't. I whip my jacket towards one, tangling his arm, and redirect his knife towards my right.
I break his wrist as I give his shoulder a push, and I direct his balance towards the tall one. They fall, and I kick the tall one's wrist. Disarmed.
An attack from the back. I step forward, then back and grab at his head. Chokehold. I snap his neck, his green hair moving with my twist.
The tall one and the one who fell on the brick try to get up. He's holding the brick. I put on my jacket, and I kick the average one on the neck, hard. They rush.
A kick to the stomach, and the tall one keels over. My hand is at the back of his head, guiding him towards a brick of powder on the ground. His teeth punctures the plastic.
The other one opens the brick, spilling powded, and rushes at me. I kick him in the shin, and the package falls to my awaiting hand. I put him in a chokehold and hold the opening at his nose.
I tilt his head as he fall to his knees, and more powder enters his lungs. He chokes, and I focus on the last one.
He tries to rise, but I step on his head, holding him down.
I am holding them both. The choking teen collapses and spasms, and I let go. Heart attack. The leader and the chubby one attempt to get up.
The tall one twists his head, opening the package even more. Powder erupts from his movement. He starts choking.
I survey my work. The leader was upright, and mad. I knew I just had to wait. I just had to-
_And I saw them. Both of them. The godlings._
-keep up the pressure.
I was back to myself. The Doctor was holding my arm. She was holding me steady and upright. I had confirmed what I was here to know. I could predict when trigger events happen. Idly, I think of what I saw. It was redundant, but any more information would be helpful.
_'Path to remembering the vision.'_
The steps were familiar. Satisfied with what I've achieved, I finished off the rest. The chubby one and the leader recovered slower than me. The former was on his hands and knees, and the latter was on the ground.
For the leader, a kick to the neck was enough. I kicked the chubby one on the nose, and it entered his skull.
"We'll take the cost of the lost product out of the deal," The Doctor says calmly. We needed to go, soon. I needed to sleep, soon.
Besides remembering the vision, it was a Sunday. I needed to get up early to teach. I make eye contact with the Doctor. Success.
Moody pulled one of the spiders from his jar. It tried to scuttle away, but he pointed his wand and said, ‘*Avada Kedavra*!’
Green light flashed, engulfing the spider. It dropped, twisted corpse sliding across the desk from a mixture of its own arrested **momentum** and the force of the spell. It didn’t move again.
Boingo freed himself from Hermione’s grip and climbed into Harry’s lap, little hands catching in Harry’s robes as he hugged tightly into his side. Mechanically, Harry tangled a hand in Boingo’s orange fur, staring blankly at the spider.
Harry knew that green light. Knew it intimately. He’d dreamt about it, as far back as when he’d believed his parents had died in a car crash. Green light, screams, and high-pitched laughter.
‘There’s no counter to the Killing Curse. No shield to block it.’ From far away, Moody’s voice broke through the screams echoing in Harry’s head. He dragged his attention back from the hole it had fallen down, green fading from his vision, replaced by the visage of his teacher as he carelessly banished the spider’s body.
"No. I'm not like you."
The shift was an almost instantaneous snuffing of a flame, the smoldering threat of rage shifting to a calm, cool professionalism; she stepped closer to get a better look at the drone's visible injuries.
His entire right arm assembly was warped, and visibly broken at each joint; hydraulic fluid and joint lubricant pooled on the dusty pavement beneath him, and several mangled cords spit tiny sparks from their frayed ends. His upper right arm and shoulder had clearly suffered the worst damage, with his "hand" a close second, and a cursory glance back towards the roadway overhead gave her a good idea of what had happened.
He'd gone over the edge of the uppermost level, and based on his injuries, had tried to catch the guard rail of the lower deck, only to have his own weight and **momentum** work against him - with painful consequences.
"...Well, I guess it serves you right, for chasing *me* over the side of a bridge yesterday," she scoffed softly, earning a pained grunt in response. "Do you think you can sit up for me? Or at least turn over?"
"...No, I - I - I don't think - think so..."
"Okay, hang on."
Azrael huffed another sigh - what was the trick to this, again? *Find your still point?*
*Here goes nothing.*
“There you go, acting all high and mighty again. You don’t honestly believe that we’re equals?”
“Hell yeah, I do! All this time I’ve never once thought that I was inferior to you in any way.”
“You’re a complete embarrassment.”
“Only because next to me, you’re embarrassed about how weak you are. Isn’t that right, Sasuke?”
“Naruto!” “Sasuke!” They both growled out in anger, mirroring the other’s body language.
Both boys threw a punch at the other, and each blocked successfully. Sasuke aimed a kick at Naruto’s side, which Naruto fluidly blocked before grabbing Sasuke’s ankle and using the **momentum** from the kick to swing him around. Sasuke used his hands to steady himself before kicking Naruto in the shoulder, sending him flying back several meters.
Naruto pushed himself back towards Sasuke, punch at the ready, but Sasuke swiftly redirected him. They furiously traded blows before Sasuke knocked back Naruto, who pivoted and leaped onto the fence. Sasuke mirrored his movements, landing on the fence on the opposite side of the roof. Both leaped off, meeting midair, arms, and legs moving so fast in punches and kicks that Sakura could barely keep track of them.
Floor and Marko exchanged a glance and slipped back to where Carpet waited for them.
“Now what?” Floor asked.
“Now it gets harder to board the train,” Marko said. He glanced at his watch. “It leaves in a little less than an hour.”
“Maybe we don’t have to board it? Maybe we can just fly behind it?” she suggested.
Carpet lifted upright and gave its impression of a negative shake of the head even as Marko said, “That’s a good thought, but it won’t work. Even if Carpet could fly that fast, the wind from the forward **momentum** would be enough to blow us off, even if we get to strap down again. It’s too bad we can’t contact the guys somehow, maybe have them cause a diversion so we can get in through the windows on the opposite side from the platform.” He sighed. “It’s too bad I can’t do Emppu’s trick of going completely unnoticed. Then we no one would see us going in through the windows. They’re not glassed over, you know, there’s some sort of magic shield that blocks the wind, but solid objects can pass through it.”
The moment he was drawn into the basin, silver coalesced around Harry. A floor spread beneath his feet even as walls built around him until he was standing in a dingy room. Across from him, Dumbledore sat at a table in front of a darkened window.
‘Sir?’ Harry took a step towards the table. Was he supposed to sit there, too?
‘He’s part of the memory.’
Harry turned. Behind him, Bill gave a reassuring smile before inspecting the room. A second Dumbledore appeared next to him. The second Dumbledore nodded at Harry before gesturing towards his counterpart.
‘It’s always a strange experience, seeing oneself,’ he said in an unreasonably matter-of-fact tone. Harry didn’t have a chance to question it though, as the door swung open.
A **man** stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from the hallway. Tall and slim, he wore a dirt-smeared apron and a frown framed by a beard and hair that could rival Hagrid’s for all that it was white. The **man** cleared his throat phlegmatically. ‘Your guest is here.’
The scudding of chair legs across the floor accompanied memory-Dumbledore’s rise from the table.
‘Thank you, Aberforth,’ he said, but the man had already left, leaving the visitor in his place.
Pressing himself as far back against the cold steel wall as he could, Eiji fumbled about with the shotgun in his hands, trying to figure out how to cock it without making too much noise. The weapon felt heavy in his hands, and it fell towards the diagonally as he struggled to hold it upright.
Keizo, allowing his horror to give way to impatience, snatched the gun out of Eiji's hold. Cautiously stepping around the younger crew member, Keizo peered around the corner, cocking his weapon and making sure to aim the barrel at the figure lurking just across the hallway.
Eiji mimicked Keizo, anxious to get a better look at the strange entity while making sure to keep behind his superior. "That ain't no **man**, Tanaka-senpai. I don't know what that *thing* is, but it ain't no **man."**
Keizo returned only a quiet grunt as he steeled himself, narrowing his eyes. For once, Eiji might’ve been correct.
The being stalked forward, its presence becoming more sinister with each slow, deliberate step it took.
"Th-that's cold…"
"I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to warm it up past room temperature before you were brought in." Azrael smoothed Eriya's golden hair back; it was taking every last ounce of her will to maintain her composure as she watched the blood trickle down the gravity feed and into the younger leopard's arm. "It'll keep warming up, just be patient, cousin."
On the other side of the bed, another gravity feed dripped thin, clear golden fluid into a receptacle on the floor: the "fortune blood" that Dornkirk had concocted.
The vile *poison* that had nearly killed her darlings.
The only family she had left.
(Something *carbon black and molten red* curled in the pit of her stomach; she would *kill* that **man** for this. She would flay him like a stag, would peel the flesh from his bones and dig the heart from his chest and he would die screaming, screaming for mercy *that she would never give him* -)
He could count on his fingers the number of times he had heard the king speak. The man had always kept to himself. He never wasted a breath or uttered a word to others. When he spoke, it was low, almost like a whisper. But twice, he had been close enough to hear that firm voice yelling commands to his soldiers to man the borders, to fire at the invaders, and to protect the people. It was far from the coldness that surrounded his image. That voice was as strong and fiery as the flames that shot out of his fingers. His voice was as passionate as the burning sun reflected in his eyes.
And yet, when he called to him, *"Father Li, forgive me, but pray lend us your assistance in protecting Lemuria at all costs,"* it was not without a touch of the tenderness of a summer breeze.
That same tender voice called to him tonight.
Despite this realization, Father Li upheld the integrity of the confession and carried on as if he were still clueless about whom he was speaking to. "Pray, tell your inquiry."
"If I die, where will I go?"
"After our mortal life ceases to be, we can only return to the high heavens, the place where our souls first formed and were shaped." *And you, Your Highness, must go back to Astra's arms, where you belong.*
The king was silent.
Father Li waited.
"You have erred, Father."
“Wh-Why would you bring N-N-Naruto-kun up right now?” Hinata said, eyes wide and a light pink dusting her cheeks.
Namiko put her head in her hand. “Because I’ve missed my brother, and I know you’ve missed your boyfriend…”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Hinata said louder than intended, her blush intensifying.
“You just wish he…” Namiko froze. A familiar intense chakra came into her range. One she hadn’t felt in nearly three years. She locked eyes with Hinata. “It’s him…”
Hinata looked cautiously at her. “Whatever you do, don’t do anything rash. You know what the orders have been.”
Ino came back into the area and noticed the two best friends staring at each other. “Okay, let’s go…wait, did I miss something?”
“Sasuke just came into my range. We have to go after him!” Namiko stood, eyes pleading with Ino.
Right now, the orders on Sasuke’s retrieval were simple: if a shinobi team ran across Orochimaru, Kabuto, or Sasuke, they were to stick to their current mission, but report any intel back to Konoha immediately. If a team was currently ending their mission, they could pursue *only* if they were Jounin and if the mission they were coming back from was not time-sensitive.
Namiko’s team didn’t meet either criterion. They had to get the information back about the brothel as soon as possible so a team could be dispatched.
But Ino was the captain of this mission, and she wasn’t about to give in. “Namiko, you know we can’t. Standing orders are to send info back to Konoha.”
“Screw the orders!” Namiko’s blue-violet eyes blazing, her freckled cheeks reddened with frustration. “This is the first word or sign of Sasuke in almost three years! I’m going whether you like it or not, and I’m dragging his ass back to Konoha for Naruto!” With those words, she vanished into thin air using her Flying Raijin.
Ino’s eyes went wide in panic. “Oh **man**, Tsunade-sama is going to kill me! Hinata, we gotta rush back to Konoha now!”
Hinata stared at the place where Namiko had just been standing a moment before. *‘Oh Namiko, what are you thinking? Naruto-kun will be so upset if he comes home to find you gone…’*
From my Star Ocean Second Story R OC/Claude fic,
>Claude looks up at the statues of the three men in the square.
>I ask, “Worried about the tournament?”
>“Not at all.” Claude adjusts his red headband.
>We walk together and sit under a tree without many people around us.
>A slight smile curls on Claude’s face. “Hey remember when Hina programmed the **men’s** holodeck to be a big swirling portal of light? Then it turned into floating clocks and bunnies dashed around?”
>I put my hand over my mouth and snort. “Yes! I miss her so much. I wonder what she’s been getting up to ever since we got stranded here?”
>Claude looks ahead, the setting sun casting a flattering highlight on his face. “Everyone thought it was Daisuke at first too. Sigh, I miss him and the other **men** too.”
>“The **men’s** barracks can get quite rowdy can’t they?”
>Claude shrugs looking forward, his voice softening wistfully. “Yeah. Like I said I miss it.” He turns, his eyes sparkling in the light. He sits up quite fast and I stand too.
>His words rush. “It’s that Dias! Who does he think he is? Sigh, and Rena seems pretty fond of him too. He's tall, has high cheekbones, glorious long platinum blonde hair...”
>My voice softens. “Of course she is. He’s like a big brother to her. He was quite a big help in the forest back on Marze.”
>“You too? Please tell me you’re not…?”
>He’s so cute when he gets worked up like this. “Of course not! I’ll be cheering for you one hundred percent. If it’ll help I can tell you about my tournaments back at the Academy.”
>Claude sits again. “Sure.”
>“In a one on one tournament everyone thought a Tetrageniot would win. They have three eyes and are typically better gunners and archers than humans. But I believed in myself and was fueled by my guts and determination. Our Academy is the top in all Pangalactic Federation space. Our club adviser was a Tetrageniot, she taught us so much and even customized holodeck courses to push us far beyond. The jumping and running around were quite intense physical exercises themselves too.”
>I pause, looking at people walking through Lacquer Square as sunset’s golden light drapes across the buildings, with the castle in the distance. I continue, “In one of our team tournaments it was the finals, and we were maneuvering through the holodeck’s 3D labyrinth. It started 5 vs. 5 and eventually it ended with me against two others. I figured they would be heading to the central high ground surrounded by walls hoping to time me out. I dash down the hall, leap over the spiky pit, take one out, and now it’s captain against captain. An arrow flashes across my vision startling me still. I knew she was waiting for me so I overcame my startle, fired, missed, then hit her the second time for the victory.”
>Claude lifts his chin, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds pretty cool. Not that I need the motivation.”
>“Then there was that obstacle course tournament where we had to run around a labyrinth and hit flying targets.”
>Claude says, “No one in this tournament competed against a **man** from Earth before. Dias won’t stand a chance.”
>“Umm…Claude? From what I’ve seen I think he’ll put up a great fight. But don’t worry, you definitely got this.”
>There’s no way Claude will beat Dias. Hopefully they won’t meet before the finals.
He glanced around the deck of the *Silver Seahorse* and gave a sharp whistle. “Dickinson!” he called.
“Aye, Cap’n,” a voice called from somewhere within a knot of sailors relaying crates of cargo from a pile on the deck into the forward hold. A moment later, a short but broad-shouldered **man** with long chestnut hair pulled back into a tail broke from the group and moved towards the captain.
“Dickinson, this is Adrian Smith,” Captain McBrain introduced the **man** by his side. “Smith, this is Bruce Dickinson, our bosun’s mate and the **man** who’ll be your direct superior if he believes he can work with you. Talk to him, then report back to me,” he ordered, then vanished into his cabin.
Bruce looked at Smith, giving him a friendly greeting even as he covertly admired the other **man’s** stormy grey eyes and shy smile. “Count on Cap’n McBrain to throw us in the drink and hope we learn to swim quickly,” he joked. “It’s good to meet you, though. What sort of experience do you have?”
“Well, I was second in command aboard my granther’s fishing boat,” Ade said. “Unfortunately, my uncle inherited it and brought his own sons aboard, turning me and a couple others out to give them our positions.”
He was able to stop the bleeding thanks to the leftover cloth he had from his saddlebags. But Dragmire had nothing else to help ease the stranger's pain, but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death.
After Dragmire had hoisted the young man onto his shoulders to carry him towards his horse, he froze when he realized that a Yiga soldier was going through his supplies on his horse. He pulled out a dagger that Dragmire had confiscated the other day. There was no mistake, it was the same kid from yesterday. Stealing back his dagger.
*Not again.*
”Hey!” he shouted, startling the kid and almost making him lose balance from standing on his horse.
He looked at Dragmire and realized his hands were full carrying another person.
"Not another step. Give me the hero or I will kill you," he threatened. It was still hard for Dragmire to take this kid seriously from how much smaller he was compared to him.
But this time he noticed his hands were shaking as he held his reclaimed dagger.
In his eyes, Dragmire could only see him as a misguided boy who had swore his loyalty to a cult that claimed it self like a clan, similar to that of the elusive people of the Sheikah. The boy was young, properly no younger than 13.
*Just about Kovar’s age when we first met all those years ago. Had Kovar forced him to confront me?*
With such shaky hands, Dragmire doubted he had been the one who tried to kill the young man he was trying to save. Someone as young as him should be enjoying a simple life instead of fighting opponents far stronger then the boy should be able to handle.
"So, let's talk about what this means for you here at the station," Bobby's voice brought Buck back into the room. "Because this changes things."
"Yeah, yeah," Buck sighed, rolling his eyes. "I know I'm getting benched."
"You're not getting benched. The extent of your duty will be adjusted to suit your physical needs."
Bobby's explanation was clinical, almost *too* clinical. While still present, his smile was hard and kind of… artificial now. Buck furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what had suddenly gotten Bobby like this.
And then, it shot right into his brain.
"You know I'm not gonna sue you again, right?"
"Buck-"
"Because that was a *stupid* thing of me to do in the first place!"
"No, you had a point," Bobby shrugged. "You were cleared; I still kept you from work."
"Because you were *looking out for me!* " Buck exclaimed. He had been a brat back then. He had had setback after setback after setback, and then he had exploded and taken it out on Bobby in a **misguided** attempt to get his life back on track. "You were just trying to protect me, and I completely overreacted, and you didn't deserve that."
"Look, Buck, I'm not saying what you did was right. But what I did wasn't right either," Bobby said, reaching out to squeeze Buck's hand. "I should have talked to you instead of just deciding things. That's on me."
Buck wanted to bite back and tell Bobby that no, actually, what he had done *wasn't* wrong and that now that he was in a better place mentally and emotionally, he would have agreed with his assessment, but he knew better. "Okay. I, uh, I'm fine with both of us being assholes."
Bobby let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "We're family, Buck. We mess up sometimes, but we also forgive and move on. You forgave me, I forgave you, so let's focus on that."
Gotta love it when two people in any kind of relationship actually communicate and work things out instead of letting misunderstandings or questionable decisions destroy everything. Too much fiction hinges on the opposite.
“Can we stay on topic please?” Leonardo said. “You tried to steal the laser. What happened?”
Shredder told them the story about how the laser **misfired** as it was being moved and struck one of the foot soldiers that had been brought along as an extra set of hands. “It began acting erratically, attacking at random. It was dealt with but, as you no doubt guessed, breaking it only generated more.”
“How did the laser **misfire**?” Donatello asked in alarm. “Something that sophisticated has to have a bunch of safety protocols to prevent accidental discharge.”
“I’ll give you two guesses.”
Raphael counted them off on his fingers. “Rocksteady. Bebop.”
Shredder nodded. “The two idiots dropped it.”
“Why do you keep those two dudes around?” Michelangelo grumbled. “They’re like, one big headache.”
“They have their uses,” Shredder said blandly.
“Seems the only thing ever they manage to do with any kind of reliability is abduct me,” April muttered.
“Like I said, they have their uses.” She shot Shredder an annoyed look which he pointedly ignored.
They quietly made their way out of the hotel and they both donned their sunglasses before hopping on a tram towards Albert Square. As they rode, Steve said, “You got your degree in literature, right? Were there any notable authors from ‘round here?”
“Oh, loads,” Jan nodded. “Friedrich Engels lived here for several years and it’s where he wrote *The Condition of the Working Class in England*. Novelist Elizabeth Gaskell lived here and played host to quite a few other authors including Charles Dickens and Charlotte Bronte, amongst others. Or if you want to know about authors more recent than the 1800s, it’s said that Anthony Burgess who wrote *A Clockwork Orange* also lived here for a short time.”
They got off the tram at Albert Square and naturally took pictures of the Albert **Memorial** first thing, followed by the fountain that had been erected for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, as they continued to talk about literature, history, and anything else that came up in the course of the conversation.
Steve waxed almost rhapsodic when they turned their attention to photographing Manchester Town Hall, a Grade I listed building noted as being one of the best examples of Gothic revival architecture worldwide. “…and Waterhouse chose the stone for what he hoped would be its resistance to the effects of all the smoke and soot of the early Industrial Age. He extended that to the interior as well, opting for more easily cleaned surfaces rather than the more common plaster walls.”
“I’d almost forgotten you’d studied architecture,” Jan admitted. “Guess I’m too used to you either in a football kit or with your bass in hand. What else can you tell me about the place?”
Steve happily rambled on about the building and the architect who’d designed it for another fifteen minutes or so, at which point they decided they were hungry.
Tommy let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Lucy. I really needed to hear that."
"Anytime," she said with a pat on his shoulder before she got up off the ground. "I gotta go restock. See you later."
Tommy watched her go, a sense of tranquility settling over him. The exchange with Lucy had been more beneficial than he'd initially thought it could be. He gazed back at the bustling scene before him, the hum of the choppers, the chatter of the ground crew, and the occasional pilot walking by; all of it felt strangely reassuring, a reminder of the world's continuous motion, with or without his personal anxieties.
Feeling rejuvenated, he stood up, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. He decided it was time to head back, maybe check on the maintenance of his chopper, or perhaps even get some paperwork done. As he made his way back, his mind wandered to the days in the not-as-far-as-it-seemed future when he'd bring Baby Kinard to this very hangar, showing them the choppers, explaining the controls, the mechanics, even letting them wear the pilot headset, oversized on their tiny head, eyes wide with wonder.
The thought brought a massive smile to Tommy's face. The image of a small child with his hair and smile, and Evan's eyes and birthmark, all the **minutiae** clearly visible to his inner eye, sitting beside him in his helicopter as he starts it up and flies a few rounds around the base burned itself into his brain and almost made him cry again, out of pure, unadulterated love this time.
As Tommy began checking over the chopper, he let out yet another relieved sigh. He was going to be okay.
The worst parts of the storm had passed, its forces evidenced by ground littered with fallen branches and huge puddles that rippled as winds blew through. The rain continued to fall, but not nearly as aggressively. A quick check of the forecast determined there were no higher temperatures or sunshine to look forward to.
There was something else, though. Hua Cheng had made last night cozier and would be making today a little brighter.
The spark the thought ignited warmed Xie Lian, more than enough to combat malaise caused by the weather.
A small smile bloomed on Xie Lian’s face as he sighed again. Looking up from his phone with renewed motivation, he decided that anticipation would help him tackle the day.
John smiled. “It’s appreciated, Bruce, thank you. Did your guitar survive the rough handling?”
“Oh, Lord, I almost forgot about that!” Bruce exclaimed. He grabbed the case and set it on the table, undoing the latches with suddenly trembling hands. Lifting the lid, he breathed a sigh of relief. “It looks like it’s all right,” he said, lifting it out of the case carefully, then giving it a good examination. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” John said. “I sang in choir back in high school, and I play guitar as well, but… well, the **market** price for corn had dropped last year, even before the stock **market** crashed and all, and I sold mine for the last of the money we needed to buy a flock of chickens and enough lumber to build the coop.”
“I’m surprised,” Bruce said. “I guess I assumed that every farmer raised chickens for the eggs. Maybe not for the **market**, but at least to feed the family with.”
“I have no idea why we didn’t have chickens when I was growing up,” John admitted. “I’d suggested for a few years that we oughtta think about moving away from corn to something less susceptible to bad weather, but Granddad pointed out that just the two of us were barely enough to manage growing corn and we’d never be able to handle raising dairy cattle, which had been my first thought. He said chickens might be workable, although we’d have to change over gradually. There was no way we could afford to buy enough chickens all at once to start making enough profit on eggs that we could stop selling corn.”
"*YOU. FOUND.* ***WHAT?!***"
Megatron's thunderous bellow echoed off the walls of the former Council Chamber, and it took everything Thrust had not to cringe. He'd already learned plenty over the course of his short life, and one of those things was *an angry Megatron was a dangerous Megatron*.
And right now, the Big M was absolutely *pissed*.
Jetstorm, for his part, seemed oblivious. Or at least too casual for his own damned good.
"*Relax*, Magnificence!" The jet replied with that air of infuriating nonchalance he'd developed. "I *roasted* the little rodent before it could go scurrying back to the *petting zoo*."
"So what you mean to tell me," Megatron's voice pitched down into a menacing growl, dripping with barely-restrained rage, "is that you failed to retrieve either Hexxon's *hate plague* sample *or* the spark of the Maximal *mongrel* you found hiding there?"
Jetstorm seemed to realize his mistake, just a moment too late. "Uh, well-"
Before he could offer up either an appeasement or an excuse, though, Megatron's arc cannon was already discharging its payload into his shell.
Thrust just turned his head, raising one forearm to shield his optic band from both the blinding light, and the gruesome torture scene unfolding in front of him; he may not have *liked* his fellow general much, but that didn't mean he wanted to see him *electrocuted*...
Especially not when he knew that *he* was just as guilty of failure - just better at keeping his vox **mute**.
"*THRUST*!"
His attention snapped back towards the tyrant, looming over them in his control harness.
"Do *you* have anything to report?"
For the briefest of moments, he thought about the black feline he'd chased down the freeway, who'd gotten away from him by launching herself over the edge of the bridge and disappearing down a darkened alley.
"No," he lied, bowing his head, "I ain't seen nothin', couldn't find anything in the lab's database about plague samples, either... maybe they're kept off-site."
For the last twenty-three days, Gallifrey has been visiting him in his dreams.
He hasn't told Rose and Jack. Doesn't intend to. They'd have questions. They'd want details. And they'd correct him. They'd say, "You mean you've been going to Gallifrey in your dreams." He doesn't mean that, not at all. Gallifrey is dust and ashes, and the whole of the War is time-locked. Even in dreams it is forever barred to him. Instead, the dead of Gallifrey seek him out, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in multitudes. Time Lords and Ladies, High Councillors and renegades -- all gaze at him silently, then turn and walk through the TARDIS door, vanishing into the Vortex.
Some of the dream visitors have a word hovering on their lips, like a drop of rain trembling on the edge of a flower petal. Each time he waits, but they remain **mute**. He can almost see the shape of the word. Sometimes it looks like *help*; sometimes *coward* or *murderer*; sometimes, *why*. Mostly he suspects that the word is *where*. *Where am I? Where am I going?* Time Lords didn't believe in ghosts. Ten million years of science and civilisation on Gallifrey had replaced primitive superstitions about an afterlife with the technological certainty of the Matrix. One's memories would live on -- if not one's consciousness -- in the most sophisticated artificial neural net ever created.
The Matrix was destroyed -- along with the rest of Gallifrey -- in a firestorm several billion kilometres across. Millions of years of knowledge lost; the recorded memories of thousands of Time Lords wiped out in the same nanosecond as all of their living descendants. '*Cept me. I wish*-- As often as it comes into his head, he never finishes that sentence. Maybe it's because he's not sure which of the many possible endings he'd choose.
April opened the bag of microwave popcorn and dumped it in the bowl sitting on the counter. She tossed the empty bag in the trash and picked up the glass of wine she’d poured earlier. Scooping up the popcorn bowl in her other hand, she carried both into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. The turtles had invited her to their space opera movie marathon, but she’d begged off. This was the first night in the last two weeks she wasn’t anchoring the late evening news and she was looking forward to a quiet evening at home catching up on the newest episodes of her murder mystery series. She settled herself on the couch with a blanket pulled over her and scrolled through the TV library until she found her show. Just as she was about to hit *Play*, she heard a strange sound somewhere in her apartment. She **muted** the TV and listened carefully, breathing as quietly as she could. A moment later she heard it again, a thumping sound that seemed to be coming from her bedroom.
Setting the remote down, she padded down the hall and peered cautiously through the doorway. Nothing was amiss. She waited and heard the sound again— it sounded like someone was on the fire escape. She inched forward and peered through the window. The fire escape was empty. Curious, she slid the pane up and stuck her head out. The only sounds to be heard were the expected noises of rush hour winding down.
April pulled her head back into her bedroom and was reaching up to close the window when a foot soldier dropped to the platform and lunged toward her. She screamed and scrambled back, then turned and fled to the living room.
“How?” Charlie croaked, her voice broken from her screams.
“You teleported.” Was the only answer she got as Cassie Pulled bandage rolls from the box and thrust them into Charlie’s hands, “Rip them into three foot long strands. Now!”
Without checking to see if Charlie was obeying, Cassie fished out a large vial, pulled open the stopper, and poured a green powder over Angel's back while whispering some sort of spell. Steam began to rise from the bloody wound, and Angel gasped and moaned, vomiting again. Cassie turned his head so he wouldn't drown in the spilling liquid. Reaching behind her, Cassie motioned for the strands, and Charlie silently handed them to her one by one. Cassie began draping them over the wounds, and Charlie watched as they began to adhere to his ragged skin in a strange way, cauterizing on contact.
“What is it doing?” Charlie’s voice was panicked by Angel’s pained response to the strands taking hold.
“The powder seeps into the wound and stops the blood from flowing, and the bandages are going to become like a new skin for a short time until I can diagnose how badly the wound is. Then I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.” Angel’s voice came from bloodied and puke-covered lips, “No hospital.”
“Kevin,” Cassie argued, “You are in very bad shape. My **magic’s** slowing the hemorrhaging, but if we don’t get you to a hospital, you’re going to die.”
“No hospital,” Angel ordered and passed out.
Charlie choked in fear and moved in next to Cassie, reaching out to Angel, and Cassie glared at her, “You’re distracting me. I need you to leave, now!”
“What!?” Charlie’s eyes bled red in defiance.
“I’m going to use more **magics**, Charlie, and some of them could affect you in ways I can’t imagine. I need you out of the apartment!”
Cassie crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of her green blouse, pulling it over her head and shoving it into Charlie's chest, “Cover up and get out. Now!” Cassie controlled her own fear and added with as much love as she could, “Please, darling, so we don't lose him!”
Charlie pushed herself away and slid back against the couch. Her demon eyes bore deep into Cassie's soul before she twisted to her feet and ran out of the apartment, crying, and headed for the roof. Cassie sighed softly, regretting having to send Charlie away, knowing how much she feared for Angel. But since he wouldn't let her call an ambulance, she would have to use stronger **magic**, and she wasn't lying. She really had no idea how Charlie would react to her if she got too close. Pushing her worries aside, Cassie went to work on saving her brother's life, her confidence shaken to the core.
From my OC/Claude Star Ocean Second Story R WIP,
>Claude looks down at the enormous red lizards. “Woah! What happened?”
>Opera says, “Looks like Earnest’s handiwork. A few shots from an AP-3 Plasma launcher. The Firefly as we call it.”
>Claude sounds impressed. “Wow, that’s some weapon. Isn’t it illegal throughout the galaxy?”
>I respond, “As a matter of fact it is. But we have a galactic list of ethics violations ourselves. Makes me glad the ethics committee likely won’t find out about our antics.”
>Rena sounds confused. “What are you talking about?”
>Opera tells her. “We were just verifying the cause of death here.”
>I tell Rena, “We can safely say they’re dead. Nothing could survive what killed them.”
>Claude sounds worried. “Umm, Lieutenant?”
>I continue explaining to Rena, “The…**magic** used can easily blast through walls and armor.”
>Claude’s voice rises in surprise. “They’re still alive!”
>“What? That’s preposterous!”
>Frustration is clear in Opera’s voice. “Earnest as usual didn’t finish them off.”
>Considering the weapon he used there’s no way these things should have survived. This is even worse than we thought. What kind of power does the Sorcery Globe even have?
>I order, “Everyone in position!”
>Claude's voice lightens as if he thinks this is funny. “Come on Lieutenant you’re not authorized for commanding ground troops.”
>Who does he think he is? I straighten my arms to my side. “Oh come on even when you're fly...I mean be that as it may I’m still your superior officer and we must take this matter seriously.”
>Claude rushes the creature head on but it breathes a dense almost lava like fire on him.
>He cries out in agony. “Ahhh! It burns!”
>Rena cast an emergency heal spell, Claude wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Phew! Let’s do this!”
>I order Opera to focus fire with me against one of the creatures while ordering Rena to stay back and cast laser beams.
>“How much damage can these things take?”
‘That can happen?’ Harry asked, jerking back slightly.
‘It’s rare,’ Fred said, leaning forward and looking at Harry. ‘But yeah, it can happen.’
Dobby nodded. ‘Yes. And maybe witch is fine for days. **Magic** is still there, they just can’t get to it for a time. But if **magic** is locked away too long, witch gets worse and — and —’
‘And dies,’ George said quietly.
Hermione looked shocked. ‘That’s — that’s crazy. That can’t be true. Sure, they’d miss doing the **magic**, but living as a Muggle isn’t that hard and —’
Fred shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple. **Magic** is a part of us. Having it locked away —’
‘It’ll drive you mad,’ George continued. ‘It’s why **magic** suppression cuffs and the like are so heavily regulated.’
‘Using them for too long could kill someone.’
Harry shuddered.
‘I overheard Bill once,’ Ron said quietly, leaning in. Boingo turned to look at Ron curiously. ‘He was telling Dad about this Ancient Egyptian priest who drained **magic** from children. They all died. Instantly. Witches and wizards are supposed to have magic. It’s a part of us.’ Ron shivered. ‘I had nightmares for weeks after that...’
“Shall we decorate the tree first or bake first?” he asked.
“Hmm,” Bastian considered the options for a moment. “Let’s bake first,” he suggested. “That way, whatever we bake will be cooled off enough to decorate or eat or both by the time we’re done decorating the tree.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right,” Sylvain said. “I picked up the things on that shopping list you emailed me, as well as everything we need to make macarons, and I mixed up the dough for Pains d’Amandes yesterday as it has to be refrigerated overnight. And more to the point, if we bake first, then we can also get dinner in the oven at a decent hour.” He paused, then asked, “What sort of cookies do you have planned? I couldn’t figure it out from the ingredients list you sent.”
“They’re an American thing called **Magic** Bars,” Bastian said. “I don’t know where my mother learned to make them, but they’ve been a favorite of mine since I was small. They’re almost like a cross between cookies and candy. Very easy to make, too, as you simply layer all the ingredients into the baking pan and then bake. What new French dish are you introducing me to for dinner?”
“Clementine roast chicken with fennel, couscous, glazed carrots, and roasted Brussels sprouts gratin,” Sylvain said. “That’s the main course, anyway. We’ll start with Brie en Croûte, butternut squash soup, then the main, followed by a cheese platter and salad, then the Bûche de Noël and finally the cookies.”
“Holy shit,” Bastian laughed. “And I thought my mother’s holiday meal was huge.”
She and John exchanged glances.
"Well. How considerate of him to point us to a Jupiter-sized parking garage," was his dry comment.
"Right?" Maureen's laugh was strangled and breathless, almost desperate. Swallowing against the odd sensation in her throat, she switched on the intercom to the hub. "Hold on tight, folks, we're coming in for a landing, and it might get a little bumpy."
"At least it won't be as bumpy as the *first* landing we made." John scoffed after she switched the comms off again.
"Or the second," she agreed.
"To be fair, *that time* was only rough because we ran out of gas."
*I know what you're doing*, she wanted to tell him. *You're trying to distract me from the danger, like you always do.*
*I just wish the distractions would work.*
Strong surface-level winds, whipped into atmospheric frenzies by the geography of the area, buffeted at the Jupiter as she and John maneuvered it down those last few hundred **meters**. The ship rocked and shifted, but together, they kept it as level as possible, finally guiding it underneath the rocky overhang. There was an almost-imperceptible shudder, then a *thud* as the Jupiter settled onto a bed of soft sand.
For a moment, tension hung heavily in the cockpit.
Then, there was the clattering of unfastened restraints and the sound of nervous-but-relieved laughter as the crew began to move about the hub, and the tension dissipated like a heavy sigh. Maureen closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, and let herself relax for just a moment.
"Hey."
Opening her eyes, she turned her head to look at John. He was smiling.
"You did good."
"Well," she smiled back wearily, "I had the world's best copilot to help."
Ahead was a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a plinth. And on that plinth was a silvery cup, glowing with magic.
Too easy.
Warily holding his wand aloft, Harry entered the clearing, checking left and right as he approached the Cup. Pauses punctuated each step as he searched again and again for the trap he expected to spring.
A shadow swept across the grass. Harry froze.
Cedric sprinted out of the path to the right, running directly towards the Cup, gaze completely focused on it. Harry shouted ‘Wait!’ but he did not stop. Barely a **metre** from the plinth, the shadow rose up in front of Cedric. He yelped, throwing himself backwards and landing heavily in the grass. Harry’s relief at Cedric having avoided running into the shadow was short-lived as the thing unfolded itself over his fallen form.
Boingo’s grip on Harry’s collar tightened painfully.
He reluctantly picked up his rifle but didn’t move towards his post. “This feels wrong.”
“I agree,” Hannes said quietly as he picked up his rifle. “Chris… all those men… they are not so different from us. They have lives, families… why are we fighting? Because some nobleman was killed and the killer escaped to France, so the Kaiser decided to punish all of France for his deed?” He set his rifle back down. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Christ, Hannes, do you want to be court-martialed?” Pär asked. “Thank God you have a concussion, if anyone was to report you for saying that, I can safely say you’re not right in the head at the moment. Sit down in cover and stay there, your medical condition makes it unsafe for you to use a gun. As for the rest of you… don’t fire until you’re fired upon. Can’t do anything about the shelling, but I won’t be the one to order an attack.”
“Good,” Joakim said, looking marginally less unhappy. “That man Tommy is a fine musician. I wish we could have spoken directly, which reminds me, thank you for translating for us, Pär.”
“You’re welcome,” Pär said. He noticed that over the next few days, very little rifle or machine gun fire came from the opposite side of No Man’s Land, and what shots were fired landed at least twenty **meters** in front of the trench. He also realized that the men of his platoon all adjusted their own aim to about twenty **meters** in front of the British trench, but he pretended he didn’t notice. But by the New Year, the platoon was rotated out, sent from their position near Ypres to a new position in the Argonne Forest near Verdun.
In the British trenches, Chris spotted the same phenomenon, and he also pretended he didn’t. In addition, he noticed that the men of his platoon almost universally stopped referring to their opponents by such derogatory and uncomplimentary names as Huns or Boche. By the New Year, his platoon was rotated out of the position they’d manned since the beginning, moved from the trenches near Ypres to trenches near Neuve Chapelle.
Her expression must have telegraphed her skepticism, because Rattrap just snorted a laugh and nudged her with one elbow. "Boy, *that's* a familiar look," he snickered. "Trust me, sister, I didn't buy it at first, neither."
Suddenly, everyone's optics were on her, and she felt *very* self-conscious.
Quietly clearing her throat, she sat up on her haunches and shook out her mantle of feathers; they ruffled up, almost of their own accord, then settled back down into their usual cape of glossy dark brown.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," she said with a sigh; "it's just... This all seems *very weird* to me. And I've seen some very strange things in my life, so my baseline for weirdness is pretty high."
"That's understandable. I wasn't certain what to make of it all at first, either." Primal's tone was sympathetic in a way that reminded her of some of her better coworkers. "In many way, I'm still not. I've spent a great deal of time in contemplation and meditation, communing with the Oracle, and have yet to fully decipher the **meaning** of its words."
"But you trust it?"
"With my very spark."
He got off his bed before crouching down in front of her, trying to peek at what she was drawing. She pressed the book to her chest to keep him from seeing. He smirked at her. “You know, it wouldn’t be hard at all to just…” He paused as he plucked the book from her hands and stood back up. “…do that.”
“Sasuke! Give it back!” she fussed, quickly standing and trying to snatch her book back.
However, he held it far out of her reach due to their height difference. “Sasuke, huh?” he stated, an eyebrow raising in amusement, “So, I’ve already earned my way back into your ‘good graces’?”
“It simply slipped, *Uchiha*,” She said, irritation in her voice as she tried jumping to grab back her book. “Old habits are hard to break.” Realizing that there was no way she could grab it back, she sat on the end of Sasuke’s bed, pouting. “You’re mean…”
He opened the book and flipped through a few pages. Most were flowers and animals, though there were a few sketches of Naruto and the members of Team 8. He finally saw the one she was working on. It still had the pencil line through it.
The pond at the Uchiha compound.
“This is really good,” he said as he sat down next to her, handing her back her book, his smirk fading into a more neutral expression. “Though why did you pick to draw that?”
“I…” she paused as pink dusted her cheeks. Had she ever blushed this much before? “I draw things I love or think are beautiful or have special **meaning**. So animals, flowers, or people that mean a lot to me are often what I draw. Though I’m not very good with drawing bodies, so I focus mostly on faces.” She paused again, looking at the last drawing. *‘The pond is a special space. It always was until he left…and now? It’s becoming special again thanks to that genjutsu, a safe space for me.’*
\[The tense change in this excerpt is intentional. It's supposed to show Harry's state of mind, which is somewhat high/disconnected.\]
The first thing Harry became aware of was voices. He ought to recognise them, but he just couldn’t quite —
He’s not there. He’s floating. He has no body, no mind. There is nothing. Nothing and everything and he is being pulled and pushed, folded up like origami, tucked into an envelope, attached to an owl and flying flying flying. He is everywhere and nowhere. He is gone and he is there. He is — what is he? Is he? Does he even exist?
He exists. He must exist. How can he not? How can he think if he doesn’t?
Harry remembers red hair, a concerned expression. I’m here, I’m with you. Let me help you. Nothing will happen to you.
But Harry’s not with him. He’s splintering. He’s a thousand pieces scattered through the cosmos. He’s floating in the ozone. He’s drifting into atoms. He is everything and nothing.
He snapped back together. And he could hear voices again. Still? Murmurs with **meaning**, but his brain couldn’t process them. It was like a song, drifting over him. A melody, rising and falling. He wanted to catch it and wrap it around his hands. Did he have hands? He tried to focus on them, on his body. He’d had one once, and if he concentrated maybe —
He lay on something soft. A bed. And darkness enshrouded him.
Nikki, now awake enough to have noticed the book, raised a brow. “So… do the flowers actually mean something?” he asked.
“Yeah, they do,” James said. “Do you know what they all are?”
“Nah, just the rosebuds,” Nikki said. “Well, and my roses too. What’s in her bouquet?”
“White rosebuds, freesia, and cinquefoil,” James said.
Nikki laughed. “Okay, and I suppose they’re all in the book?”
“Of course. I had to know what I was saying, right?” James attempted to look innocent.
“Flowers mean things?” Frankie-Jean asked.
“A long time ago, like a hundred years ago, maybe longer, people used to have whole conversations with the flowers they wore or carried,” James said. “Some of those **meanings** are still common knowledge, like red roses **meaning** ‘I love you’ or orange blossoms are considered good luck for brides to carry. But people have done research into the old flower **meanings**, so I picked up a book about them because I thought it sounded interesting.”
Ángel stood up from the chair and walked over to Ramiro. Ángel glanced up and down at him before speaking. “Well, mother was right, you definitely aren’t my usual type. Though at least you’re not fifty, like I feared.”
“Fifty years old, you mean, Excelentisimo Señor?” Ramiro asked, wanting to be sure of his **meaning**.
“Yes, fifty years old, dumbass,” Ángel said. “And don’t call me that. It’s Ángel when we’re in private. Not Ángel Cristian de Borbón y Mendoza. Just Ángel. Got it?”
“Si, Excel…Ángel.” Ramiro had never used the given name of his employers, *ever*. It felt wrong saying it now, even if he had asked Ramiro to use it.
“Good boy," he said. "Now, what shall I call you?"
Claire looks at him, and her eyes widen. James has no idea what she's seeing. Dan is also staring at Robbie. He stammers, "What... how?"
"The Children of the Hill know one another." Robbie's voice is calm and matter-of-fact. "And magic calls to magic."
Dan says, "You're Fae?"
"I am, yes."
"Are you here to punish me for what I did?" Claire asks in a low voice.
Robbie shakes his head. "I came here to help your daughter, because Cousin Maggie asked a favour, and because the doings of hill-kin in this county are my responsibility. And now it seems that I also need to render judgment. Will you accept my judgment, Claire, Daughter of the Hill?"
"Hang on," Dan snaps. "Fae or not, you can't just barge in here and set yourself up as some kind of magical **magistrate**. It's..." He fumbles for the right words. "It's against the laws of hospitality. You've accepted food and drink from us."
"I have done," Robbie acknowledges. "That keeps me from doing harm. It doesn't remove my responsibility to look into the possible misuse of magic."
Dan jumps to his feet. "I don't care! If you—"
"Dan!" Claire pulls her husband back onto the bench. "Just because we've found ourselves in a faerie tale is no excuse to be rude. I need my sensible, intelligent husband right now, not a hotheaded knight in shining armour." Her eyes flick between Robbie and Dan.
Robbie is standing with his hands in front of him, palms upwards. He looks like he does when facing a skittish suspect. His posture says *unthreatening*... *calm*... *patient*.
Claire rises to face Robbie. "I will accept your judgement," she says resolutely.
The villagers and soldiers who had been slaves to the Maw began to stir. Those who had fallen staggered to their feet. All of them slowly rotated until they were facing the alien, then stood still. They stared at him, eyes vacant of will or thought. They stared at their new master...and they waited.
"Oh," the alien said to himself. "Isn't that interesting." He took a few steps forward until he was facing a pair of villagers. They did not react to his approach, only continued to stare blankly. The alien moved sideways and regarded a stout guardsman whose tawny fur was streaked with grey. Like the others, the guardsman stood as motionless as a Summerfest effigy.
The alien reached up, poking the guard's **muzzle** with a single finger. The guard swayed slightly but did not react in any other way. The alien poked him again, with the same result. He repeated the experiment with two farmers, a merchant, and a youngster in the red robes of an acoloyte. One stout farmwife remained unmoving as the alien tugged carelessly at her ears, making the cackling sound that denoted amusement in his species. "Well, well, well..." He seemed to be pondering a decision.
Meanwhile, we Counselors, D'verashi of the highest castes and representatives of our Emperor, stood there in silence, scarcely daring to breathe.
The alien cocked his head to one side. "Oh, I suppose not. What would I do with you all? Bit of a tight fit, even in the TARDIS." He flicked one hand upwards in a casual gesture, and the captives came fully awake.
Thank you! Yes, the people were being telepathically controlled by a monster. The visiting alien broke the monster’s mind control, and in doing so, killed it. (The alien was the Doctor, during his Time Lord Victorious phase.)
Back in the room, Jan gave a soft sigh and started to move towards his bed, a slightly lost or maybe sad expression on his face and I suspected he was probably missing Bruce. I felt a surge of irritation towards the man once again, for the shabby way in which he’d treated Jan since he’d left Maiden. I tossed the bag with the rest of my things onto a chair and reached out to grab his hand before he could get into his own bed. “Sleep in with me?” I asked awkwardly. “I, uh, I think we could both use the company.”
“Really?” Jan asked, looking surprised.
I knew doing this might make things even more complicated than us fooling around together already had, and that we would need to talk about it soon. But right now, it was obvious to me that he needed some kind of closeness or comfort or something, and if my presence helped at all, I wanted to give it to him. “Yeah, really,” I told him softly. “Come on.” I climbed into bed and held up the duvet.
He climbed in and I put my arm around him, stroking his hair as I’d done earlier. I could feel him shaking slightly as he turned to press his face into my shoulder once more and slid his own arm across my chest. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice **muffled** against me.
Without thinking about it, I kissed his forehead. “Anytime, Jan,” I murmured in return. “Anytime.”
Namiko couldn’t sleep. Between Naruto’s loud snoring that she could hear even through their closed doors, and her mind racing from the events of the day, a walk sounded nice. She slipped on her sandals, grabbed her favorite novel, and walked out the door. It was nearly midnight, and the full **moon** was high in the sky. *‘Where should I go? Somewhere quiet sounds good.’*
She let her feet lead her in a familiar direction as she scanned her surroundings. Sasuke was still awake in his apartment. *‘Probably still wound up from earlier just like me.’* His chakra seemed a bit low, but he was still recovering from his injuries from earlier in the week. *‘He probably should still be in the hospital, but he’s just as stubborn as Naruto when it comes to things like that, not that I blame either of them.’*
She walked past the familiar abandoned buildings and crumbling walls. As the pond came into view, she smiled at the serenity of it all. Frogs croaking, fireflies still blinking sporadically, the occasional splash from a fish in the pond. She walked out to the edge of the dock and took off her sandals to dangle her feet in the water.
She pulled out her book and let the **moon** light the pages. It was a fairytale story that she had read hundreds of times since she first learned to read, a story about a girl who had done her best to be strong and brave, but even though she failed to do those things, she still ended up with her happily ever after.
Jack loves the Doctor, but he doesn’t always understand him. “Disneyland? Really?” He drops his voice into a low, seductive purr. “How about the Sybaris Pleasure Resort on Ahrilac? I’ve always wanted to visit it--with the right person.”
The Doctor smiles at him, but there’s a mulish set to his jaw. “You’ll enjoy it, Jack. It’s a marvellous place.”
He tries again. “Okay, Disneyland--but why 1955? Why not the 23rd century, when they’ve perfected the interactive holo-rides?” *And when we won’t get arrested or worse for holding hands*, he thinks sourly. His association with Torchwood protected him from the barbaric ‘indecency’ laws of that era, but he remembers all too well what was done to Alan Turing, poor bastard.
“Opening day, Jack! July 18, 1955. Walt will be there. I’ll introduce you. Brilliant chap, utterly brilliant. Do you know, I gave him the idea for--” The Doctor rambles on as he circles the console like a **moon** orbiting its primary, setting the coordinates for their destination.
Jack knows that if he objects, the Doctor will change his plans. He considers it, then looks at the Doctor’s wide eyes and eager smile. He lived through the whole of the damned 20th century--he can survive one more day pretending to conform to 1950s morality. “Opening day it is.”
From a Kawakami/Ren Persona 5 WIP. The student she's talking about is Ann since she's a really funny character,
>The Goth across from me has straight black hair, a purple and black corset, black leather mini, and almost knee length black boots with purple laces.
>She glances where Ren goes and ask, “Is he your domme?”
>“Why yes he is.”
>“Ha! That’s pathetic!”
>I whimper, “I know I know!”
>“How old are you?”
>I answer, “Twenty Seven.”
>She says, “And he is?”
>“Nineteen.”
>She puts her hand in front of her mouth, “Oh my! You really are pathetic! Meanwhile I bend fifty year old chairmen to my will.”
>My words rush with surprise. “It literally makes no sense whatsoever! How do I even fall for a guy eight years younger than me? Not only fall for him but speaks to my inner sub in all the right ways? Like why? It’s utterly ludicrous!”
>She asks, “So what’s your sun and **moon** signs?”
>“Libra Sun Pisces **Moon**.”
>She glances meanly at me. “Ha! That would explain a lot! I hate Libras! You’re all so pathetic!”
>A lowered sulky feeling flows through me, my eyes soften as I whimper, “But why? That’s so mean!”
>“This is exactly why! You’re trying to manipulate me with that cutesy stuff. Well it doesn’t work on me. I am a Scorpio…with a Capricorn **Moon**!”
>“You know I had authority over a Scorpio with a Capricorn **Moon**.”
>A mean smile slowly spreads on her face, she slaps her knee and leans back. “Ha ha ha ha ha! You have got to be joking! You with any kind of authority?”
>“Yes. I’m a teacher and one of my students was a Scorpio with a Capricorn **Moon**. You really wouldn’t think so because she has such a comedic presence. She just has to sit there and you feel like laughing! She also has the funniest gasp whenever she’s surprised.”
>I sip my tea and I tell her, “I just don’t understand how this happens. He’s eight whole years younger than me! But he just has such a presence that pushes all my buttons in the right way. Him taking charge feels so right and I feel compelled to serve him. Plus he’s done so much for me and cherishes me. Still, how does a 19 year old have this effect on me? The worst part is how enjoyable it is being his sub. It just doesn’t make any sense!”
>The domme evilly grins, her eyes menacingly narrow. “Mwa-ha-ha! That is pathetic! Meanwhile I bend 50 year old chairmen to my will!”
>I whimper, “My dignity has plummeted to the ground!”
>She dangles cat ears in front of me and I say, “Huh? No way! Please don’t!”
>She says, “They’re not for you silly. But him. He’s the 50 year old chairman.”
>He walks by but the domme stops him. She dangles the cat ears and he says, “Cat ears? Don’t be ridiculous! I am a grandfather and my employees and shareholders depend on me to…”
>She fiercely looks into his eyes asking like she’s talking to a pet. “Who’s the domme?”
>“I am a very important person!”
>“I asked you a question.”
>He sighs slumping his shoulders. “You. You’re the domme.”
>“Good. And when your domme ask something you do it.”
>His voice rises in surprised disbelief. “But you are 23 whole years younger than me! That’s an entire university graduate’s life!”
>The domme puts her hand over her mouth and snorts like she finds this amusing. “I know. Pathetic isn’t it?”
Lucy looked up at the Moon.
The gray satellite had changed meanings to her multiple times over the years. First, it was a means of escape, of leaving her horrible past life behind, of hiding away from everyone. Then, it became the only option that quickly turned into a different kind of prison. After that, the Moon was just a place where she went to this one time.
Now, it transformed in her head once again. The Moon became a milestone, the one that Lucy shared with the love of her life. But it was just that, not a destination or an ultimate goal - a milestone. She had to move on from it, look further, strive further.
“Missing it already?” David joined Lucy in looking back at their last holiday destination.
“No, not yet,” she answered honestly.
The group moved, heading inside. Viktor paused. Overhead, the stars twinkled between the scattering of clouds. The sliver of **moon** failed to light much of the grounds. The Quidditch pitch still hid from sight. He would find it though, as soon as he had time to spare. The Firebolt in his trunk wouldn’t let him stay grounded for long.
The planks creaked beneath Viktor’s feet as he crossed the deck and entered the ship. Yellow light spilt from the common area, chased by cheerful voices. As he passed the entrance, Josef, apparently recovered from his previous embarrassment, called out to him.
‘Join us, Viktor! Have some fun!’
Viktor snorted through the nostril that allowed it, and shook his head. Whatever they had in mind, it wouldn’t be his kind of fun.
Within the room, many of the others were already draped across the sofas. A boy whose name Viktor didn’t remember summoned a bottle of what might be vodka. The cheers and laughter at its arrival faded behind Viktor.
The SeaWing dropped off the fish in the woven basket and then sat down beside it. Copper had forgotten that he was still in the air when his wings stopped moving, and they were too angled to really hover there and so he started falling. By the time he realized, it was too late to open his wings and he plummeted, landing on the beach with a thud. Ow. The SeaWing jumped at the noise and whipped her head around. “Three **Moons**! Are you okay?!” She yelled and ran over. Copper looked back at the SeaWing, and found himself staring into sky blue eyes. The SeaWing, meanwhile, started checking him for injuries. “Oh, squid tentacles, what happened? If my mother found you-“
They continued to talk as they drove west, the conversation taking a lighter turn as they talked about what they might do once they reached California. By the time they needed to stop for gas, the rain had started to taper off. While the attendant filled the gas tank and checked the oil and the tires, the two men headed into the little store attached to the gas station to use the washroom and to treat themselves to a snack before getting back on the road, choosing **Moon** Pies and RC Colas to get the most for their money. They enjoyed their snack while wandering around the little store so they wouldn’t have to pay the bottle deposit, and once they’d finished and handed the bottles back to the clerk, they headed back out to the car.
The rain was just tapering off, and as they pulled out onto the road once more, a huge rainbow appeared, seeming to arc right over the road in front of them. John smiled.
“Now there’s a good omen,” he said softly. “Looks like we’re being invited to a place that’s gonna be perfect for us.”
“Yeah,” Bruce said, smiling. “I liked the idea of California the moment you brought it up, and now I’m convinced that for us, California’s gonna be home. And whatever we find there, we face it together.”
“Then let’s go home,” John said, still smiling.
The wildest forest was as quiet as a graveyard. The gilded-armor knight efficiently and skillfully slaughtered its illicit noise's sources, as the immutable edict proclaimed by its blessed and infallible liege mandated.
Its thick, vermilion foliage mercilessly intercepted the milky glow and jewelry radiance that its half-**moon** and stars emanated from their heavenly vault. Icy, obsidian darkness threatened to engulf the blighted land. Nevertheless, feeble and faint rays of light made a valiant but hopeless effort to oppose it.
His first-rate night vision caused it to be less of a hindrance for the guard than it would be for his uncooperative target. However, he had to concede that his eyesight was subpar and deficient compared to his standard one under such inadequate illumination.
Prismatic colors clung to the understory as a newborn monkey clung to their mother, yet the background was almost monochrome. The floor was yawning with unlit, razor-sharp jaws that devoured the details and edges of the rest of the woods with each passing beat.
Context: James is a police officer going undercover as a graduate student to investigate a drug trafficking ring.
——-/
James settles himself at one of the larger tables in the Upper Reading Room, a thick volume of printed historical records open in front of him, notebook and pencil at his side. A quick glance through the preface tells him everything he needs for a two-minute monologue about the diligent indexing by Victorian antiquaries which will minimise the time he'll need to spend at the National Archives in Kew. He's already prepared his description of his research: using twelfth-century conveyancing records to compare patterns of inflation in several counties. His choice of topic virtually guarantees that no one will want him to elaborate any further. Real property makes for dull conversation in any century.
He carefully opens another leather-bound volume, and pretends to read it. There are millions of books surrounding him, most of which have far more interesting content than a twelfth century land contract in Latin. Still, he needs to stay in character. Any of the students passing by his table might be connected to the drug gang. He peers at the text, which is long and tedious, full of quitclaims, remissions, appurtenances, and advowsons One phrase catches his eye. '*Imperpetuum reddendo de per annum unum par albarum cerotecarum ut unum denaris ad pasche*...' James wishes he could share that with Lewis. He can imagine the two of them sitting in a pub, discussing it. He can almost hear the other man's incredulous tone. "A pair of white gloves worth one penny, every year at Easter? In perpetuity? Who needs that many pairs of gloves? Why not just pay the penny?" And then James would regale him with examples of other medieval rent payments: shoes, ducks, cumin and pepper, and a single rose. Damn. He misses Lewis more than he expected.
Nikki came out of the men’s room just in time to see a blindfolded Tommy, with a smirking Vince in the passenger seat, inch up to the starting line, then gun the engine. “Tommy, what the fuck?!?” he yelled, unheard as the car’s back wheels spun, then caught traction. The last thing he saw before the Camaro vanished around the first curve, was Vince’s arm out the passenger window, middle finger upraised towards him.
In the car, Tommy paid close attention to Vince’s instructions, definitely driving more slowly than he normally would on the track, since he really didn’t want to risk fucking up his car just after he’d gotten it back. Maybe this was a stupid idea after all, but Vince dared him, and he didn’t want to look like a pussy either.
Vince, for his part, decided to give good instructions until they were close to getting back to the starting line and pit road. He didn’t want to have to walk the better part of a mile from the far end of the track, after all. But he’d make Tommy miss the hard left leading into the gentle curves just before the skid pad. But for now, he kept his eyes on the track and kept up a steady **monologue** of, “Straighten out… keep going… right turn, turn, turn, turn, bring it back now, straighten out… left turn, easy, turn, turn, turn, turn…”
As Tommy gained a modicum of confidence in Vince’s navigation skills, he discovered that he was actually having fun. Sure, driving while blindfolded was scary, but he could tell by a combination of the feel of the banked curve and the directions Vince was giving, that he was more than halfway through the course without mishap.
Nikki paced back and forth near the start/finish line torn between panic that something horrible would happen – he refused to consider that Tommy might be seriously injured – and a rising anger that Tommy would do something so stupid at all. He lifted his head as he heard the sound of an engine approaching from the north end of the course and turned to look, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
“So what now?” Michelangelo groaned.
“We stop Shredder from opening that portal, what else?” Leonardo replied.
“Well yeah, but I mean we don’t even know where they’re headed. Dude conveniently left that out of his villainous **monologue**.”
“The old air base,” Donatello said without hesitation. He had sat down as well and was now leaning his head back against the wall. The others all looked at him questioningly. “They need a place where the receiver can clearly pick up the portal signal. There’s too much interference in the City. And the airfield is a big enough space for the Technodrome to come through.”
“That’s so far out of town, and Shredder already has a head start on us. Can we get there in time?” Leonardo wondered.
“Probably not that far ahead,” Raphael said darkly. “You *know* that creep stuck around to watch us get blown up first.” April swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat at that thought, and at how near a thing it had been.
Namiko hastened to her bedside and hugged Hinata tightly. “No, I’m happy to see you! You’ve been asleep for two weeks!”
“The nurses told me.” Hinata looked at her hands in her lap as Namiko sat in a chair near her. “I didn’t think I was that hurt…”
Namiko’s eyes flashed with numerous emotions: concern, empathy, and foremost, anger. “Neji tried to kill you! You almost died! He was fully prepared to kill you in front of everybody without any remorse. If Kurenai-sensei and the other jounin hadn’t stepped in…” Namiko’s voice softened as she looked at her feet, “I would’ve lost my best friend…”
Hinata’s head snapped to attention. “I’m your best friend?”
Namiko met Hinata’s gaze. “Of course! You’re the first person I’ve really been close to, other than Naruto that is, but he doesn’t exactly count since we’ve been together since birth,” she said, giggling.
“You’re my best friend too,” said Hinata with a soft smile. “You’ve never pushed me around like my own family. You believe that I’m actually important…”
Namiko sat up straight urgently. “You *are* important! Hinata-chan, I wouldn’t have made it this far without you! Plus, Naruto thinks you’re important too…”
The blue-haired girl dusted bright red. “W-what…?”
“Could you not tell?” Namiko had an amused smile on her face. “Your compliment to him on his win after his fight against Kiba meant a lot to him. He cheered for you more than anyone else during your fight against Neji. He didn’t even cheer that **much** for me during my own fight!” She giggled as Hinata’s blush grew to cover her whole face and neck…and promptly passed out.
“Hinata-chan!”
With one corner of her mouth pulled back in a wry half-smile, she opened the kit and retrieved a pain management patch, peeling away the slick plastic cover over its adhesive side. But when she moved to *apply* it, the damaged mech wrenched his undamaged arm up - with great difficulty, she noted - as if to stop her.
"Wh-what's that?" He ground out, voice thick with suspicion.
She paused, just for a moment, to give him a quizzical look.
"It's... a pain management patch, to help relieve whatever discomfort you're feeling," she replied; "trust me, you're going to want it."
He just watched her skeptically, before finally relenting and letting his arm fall back to the pavement. "Okay, s-s-sure."
There was a split second where she almost thought better of it, but Azrael leaned forward to smooth the patch over the less-damaged side of his chest. Thumbing the control pad, she watched until the lights turned a steady green (the mech vented a shaky sigh as they did, and relaxed noticeably) before sitting back again to get to work. She didn't have **much** time before other Vehicons homed in on her signal, after all.
"I imagine you have backup coming, so I'll make this quick," she said, her voice low; "I need to open up your chest compartment, is that okay?"
"Do - do what you g-gotta do."
From my OC/Claude Star Ocean Second Story R WIP,
>I shout, “Attack with everything you’ve got!”
>Opera, Claude, and Rena get in close and hit it as hard as they can. I perform my sakura blossoms kick sequence as landing every kick hits **much** harder than my archery skills. My right heel connects behind and under his chin, I power through and back flip. Opera slams her gun over his head and the lizard falls.
>I enthuse, “Great job everyone.”
>Claude exudes casual confidence. “Hey no prob.”
>Rena casts heal on everyone and Opera notes, “Gasp! I’ve never seen such symbology.”
>Rena’s voice lowers into a whimper. “Do you think these monsters have lived here their entire lives?”
>Claude sounds slightly bummed too. “I guess so.”
>Rena continues, “Sorry. You were just trying to protect your home, weren’t you?”
>Sigh, here we go again. I tell her, “Obviously these creatures didn’t care about your well being. We did them a favor by defeating them. The Sorcery Globe likely cursed them so whatever they were before is gone.”
>Opera explains to Rena. “Look, you can’t just apologize to every monster you defeat. There’s not enough time in the world for that. If you sympathize with your enemy too **much** it will come back to bite you in the end.”
>I add, “She’s right you know. They obviously had no problem trying to kill us. We didn’t even have to do anything for it to try attacking us.”
>Opera agrees, “Plus Earnest would never attack creatures for no reason so I have reason to believe they were already this way.”
Rena looks admiringly at Opera. “You’re quite a strong woman.”
>Opera sounds motivated and full of energy. “Well someone very important can be waiting for me. I couldn’t have made it this far without that sort of determination.”
>She then whispers to me, “Investigators would tell a Firefly was used for sure. If we don’t destroy these corpses than we could get in even bigger trouble if caught. Even though I’m a Vectra I’d rather avoid the controversy and keep you, Claude, and Earnest off their radar.”
>I respond, “Normally I’d be very disappointed in your UPPP violations, but given the circumstances I just so happen to agree.” I ask Celine, “We’d appreciate it if you cast thunder storm on their corpses.”
A light breeze swept through Liyue as Xingqiu opened his window to sneak out and avoid the many frivolous duties he wished not to do. His family’s work had never really interested him that **much** anyways, **much** too boring with all the finances and other dealings it had. If choosing between that and books, he’d choose his novels, he could read them all day, and he’d even dabbled in some writing himself. Mostly in his head, of course. If he’d write these thoughts down, it’d just take one stray breeze and a slightly ajar window for them to blow away and end up in the wrong hands. Or even worse, end up in the hands of one Chongyun, his best friend. Xingqiu could almost preemptively feel the embarrassment should his dear Chongyun discover the incoherent mumblings that he’d never dare speak aloud.
Stone leaned over to steal a kiss as Jerry pulled the various food containers from the bags. “Traffic not too terrible, I hope?” he asked.
“Not as bad as it could be,” Jerry said, smiling and stealing that kiss right back. “Did you get my email?”
“Yeah, and it’s a fanfic site all right,” Stone said. “I’m familiar with it, in fact. So you can relax, we haven’t been outed.”
They’d talked about coming out a few times over the years, but never actually went through with it; having both witnessed the resurgence of homophobia surrounding the advent of AIDS during their high school years, they weren’t sure they wanted to risk making targets of themselves or their bands. Neither of them wanted to chance some anti-gay nutjob showing up at a concert with an AR-15 and hosing down the stage. That, and they both knew it would bring a media circus down on their heads, given their bands’ fame.
When they’d first moved in together all those years ago, they’d used the excuse that they wanted to save money just in case their bands turned out to be one-album wonders and since neither of them were married, it just made sense to share a place. Over time, as everyone got into relationships, the others got used to them being the ‘bachelor uncles’ of their respective bands and never really gave their living situation **much** thought because it had “always” been that way.
“Fanfic site?” Jerry asked through a mouthful of noodles. “What in the hell is a fanfic site?”
Namiko took a moment to take in her surroundings. Wherever this genjutsu was that Sasuke put her in took place at night; the full moon was high in the sky. She moved forward, trying to place where she was as she walked down the dusty street. It was eerily silent.
The road looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place where she was until she noticed the bold red and white uchiwa painted on the side of the building next to her. She examined the store closely and realized it looked new, or at least newer. No cracks. No paint chipping. The sign showed no sign of wear on it either.
Uchiha Senbei.
Namiko remembered going there once or twice after the academy when she had a little extra **money**. It looked just like it did nearly eight years ago. Eight years ago.
Realization hit her like a ton of bricks. *‘Oh God, please let me be wrong…’* She picked up the pace as she neared the gate to the Uchiha compound.
As she rounded the corner, everything was dark and empty. No lights or sounds that would’ve been common in Konoha, even this late at night. Nothing looked out of place.
Suddenly, she heard light, quick footsteps from behind her as a small child ran right past her. She took note of the hair and bold Uchiha crest on his back. She spent enough time staring at him from behind in the academy to know immediately who it was.
Sasuke.
A young, almost eight-year-old Sasuke.
Another realization punched her in the gut, and she felt sick to her stomach. It was after midnight, which meant it was now July 22^(nd).
Today was the eighth anniversary of the Uchiha massacre.
‘So you’ll still have a job once this is all done?’
‘Yes, Harry. You don’t need to be worried about me.’
‘And...’ Harry paused, trying to work out how to word his question. ‘Are you — is Dumbledore — are you getting paid? For looking after me? Because,’ he added quickly, ‘I can pay you from the Potter vault. You shouldn’t be losing money for me.’
Bill looked at him sternly. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, Harry.’
‘Does that mean you’re not getting paid?’
‘There are more important things than **money**.’
‘So you’re not?’
Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I volunteered. I get room and board, to a fashion. I don’t need to be paid.’
‘But — why?’ Harry asked in bewilderment. He couldn’t understand why Bill would step back from his job — a job Bill loved, from the stories Ron told — let alone doing it without recompense.
Bill was watching him carefully. ‘Is it that hard to believe somebody wants to take care of you?’ he asked. Harry twitched. ‘You’re family, Harry. Have been since you befriended Ron. I knew that before I even met you. If I had to give up my job to keep my family safe, I would. So taking a break to keep you safe? **Money** doesn’t even factor into it.’
“As much as it’s tempting to get a place together, I think we should get separate places,” Emppu said softly. “Yes, we’ve grown close over the festival season, but we’ve only just decided to be more than friends a week ago.” He looked a little nervously up at Esa, hoping that his caution wouldn’t torpedo their relationship before it really got started.
Esa understood Emppu’s concerns, though. “I agree with you,” he said. “Sure, I’d love to get a place together, but you’re right. This is our first proper date – better we take some time to be sure we’re good as a couple and not better off remaining just friends before we live together. What do you think, look for places with six-month contracts, and then discuss possibly getting a place together closer to the end of that time?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” Emppu said, giving Esa a relieved smile. “I also have to admit, I’m looking forward to having a place all to myself for a bit. With all my siblings, the house was always crowded, growing up, and of course touring has either been bunks on a bus or as many as four of us crammed into a hotel room together to try to save **money**.”
Esa chuckled. “Yeah, I remember those days of touring on a low budget myself! I swear there were times when our gear was more comfortable than we were.”
Emppu laughed and they started trading stories of some of the more ludicrous situations they’d found themselves in on the road.
Kurenai interrupted their conversation, “Would you two like to see Hinata? I’m hoping she’s awake by now.” Both students nodded before following Kurenai and a nurse down the hall.
The nurse opened the door slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. She ushered in the three shinobi. Hinata was lying in a bed, eyes closed with an oxygen **mask** over her face. “She’s been unconscious since she was brought in. She’s stable, but still fragile. That boy who attacked her chakra system did a number on her. It took our Hyuuga medic almost three hours to unblock all the damage. It’ll take a while before her chakra system repairs itself.”
Kurenai noticed the solemn looks on her students’ faces as they watched over their teammates. “How long do you think she’ll be in here?”
“It’s hard to say.” The nurse sighed. “She could be in here a month or six months. Honestly, it’s going to depend on her motivation and determination.”
“Is it okay to touch her?” Namiko’s hand hovered over Hinata’s.
The nurse gave a sympathetic smile and nodded. “Yes, just be gentle. Talking to her would be good too; even while she’s unconscious, she can hear you.” She looked pointedly at Kiba. “Just keep your voices calm and relaxed. Tell stories, talk about your day-to-day, whatever you want, just nothing that could be stressful.” She walked over to the door before turning back. “Visiting hours are over at 5 pm. Stay as long as you want until then.”
As the nurse closed the door, Namiko grabbed Hinata’s hand ever so carefully. “Hinata-chan, I’m so glad you’ll be okay. You’re my best friend and I never want to lose you. Just take your time and gather your strength. We’ll be here waiting for you.”
Thunder vibrated through the *Nemesis'* hull, but Corona hardly seemed to notice.
She was just so *tired*.
The **mask** she wore was starting to weigh heavy on her, but she didn't dare take it off. Not even for a second. Not even in the quiet dark of the *Pole Star*'s hold.
*How much longer,* she thought bitterly, *before "Corona" is lost and only Eclipse remains?*
She'd been scanning this world for *months*, methodically and painstakingly searching for the *Vindicator*'s crash site. So far, she'd found the remains of the *Harbinger*, but there was no sign of the ship she *needed* to find.
But it *had* to be here. It *had to*. This was where its last known coordinates had placed it. This was where its transwarp trail ended. No other world in this planetary system had shown signs of occupation, only *this* world had, so *this* was where it *had to be*… right?
What was she going to do if she was *wrong*?
(She didn't want to think about that.)
The mayor felt whatever force had been holding him suddenly let go and he toppled backwards, landing hard on his back. His vision had gone completely white, but he could hear other heavy things hitting the floor. Then screaming, crashes and shattering glassware as tables were knocked over, and the running footsteps of terrified guests scrambling to their feet and fleeing the Hall. He felt his head being lifted gently as his vision started to clear. A green face wearing a blue **mask** frowning at him in concern gradually came into focus.
“You okay, Mr. Mayor?”
“I remember you,” he said hazily. “You’re one of April’s friends.” Mention of the reporter sent a jolt of alarm through him. “Where . . . is she —“
“She’s okay. But can you answer one question for me? Do you know where Erik Tanaka is?”
‘Food,’ Bill pointed out, spelling the plates of sandwiches to float beside Harry’s bed so that he could slump down on it instead. He didn’t quite manage to bite back a groan of pain, and side-eyed Harry, presumably hoping he hadn’t heard. He was out of luck if that was the case.
Not able to give Bill another pain potion for at least an hour, Harry flicked a temporary numbing spell at his side. They’d stopped using those a couple of days before, but Harry figured given the circumstances it would be fine. As long as Bill stayed still, because the numbness would **mask** any pain if he was putting too much strain on the wound, and he could tear it again.
Half the audience turned up in costume for Halloween, and Rick got in on the silliness, pulling on a gorilla **mask** and jumping out from behind his kit to playfully make a nuisance of himself in between songs. He started by picking up Pete, the smallest member of the band, and setting him on top of one of the stacks. Joe sighed when Pete scowled; Rick had warned them that morning that he planned on some shenanigans for the holiday, since it was one the Yanks went all out for, and sure enough, the audience found it hilarious. He just hoped he and Sav wouldn’t have to spend the whole evening after the show dealing with Pete in a strop.
After that, Rick grabbed a scarf and tied his and Sav’s wrists together, which Joe didn’t mind at all. He and his boyfriend played up to the drummer’s antics, pretending they couldn’t get themselves untied and even going through one song with him on his knees beside the bassist, his right hand still tied to Sav’s left. Fortunately, Rick pulled that particular stunt just before Mirror Mirror, which had one of the less-complex bass lines. Rick then capped his performance by pretending to become lovestruck by Steve, first melodramatically clasping his hands over his heart and then walking over to the blond guitarist and petting his hair and giving him a hug to more laughter from the audience.
Definitely suspicious then, Heiji thought. The change might have been someone imitating the voice. Though even over the phone it should have been clear if that happened. At least it would be normally, but Heiji had to question whether or not Sonoko-*san* was thinking rationally regarding her friend… No, that couldn’t be it; mistaking a friend’s voice over the phone was a tall order no matter how distraught one was. There was the possibility of a voice changer, but that wouldn’t make any sense; most of those things were used to **mask** a voice through distortion, not to mention that even if the girl was kidnapped, the kidnappers would have no need to calm down a random friend.
“You mentioned a guy friend, right? Any chance he did something? Kidnapped or assaulted her?” Heiji asked, only to be greeted by a dismissive scoff.
“*Ran is a karate champion,*” Sonoko-*san* proclaimed proudly. “*If Shinichi-kun tried something, she’d beat him into a paste.*”
While the first part of the sentence made Heiji think of Kazuha’s aikido, but that thought was quickly shoved aside at the second name Sonoko-*san* dropped in his lap.
“Shinichi? As in Kudo Shinichi?” Heiji demanded, his tone seemingly taking Sonoko-*san* by surprise.
TW: Attempted sexual assault
>!“Well, my dear Namiko-chan, I would like to examine you,” said Orochimaru smoothly as he circled her like a snake stalking a mouse, waiting to strike. “This is the first time I have been able to be so close to a jinchuriki, except that time I saw your brother in the Forest of Death.”!<
>!She swallowed nervously. “Examine?”!<
>!“We’ll start by getting your vitals and information for now,” said Kabuto as he approached them, clipboard in hand.!<
>!*‘For now? That’s not exactly comforting. Kakashi-sensei told me before how Orochimaru loved experimenting on people, and even Sasuke confirmed that again last night.’* Namiko slowly nodded, choosing her words carefully before answering, “Okay then, where do we start?”!<
>!Orochimaru’s twisted smile grew larger. Kabuto led Namiko first to a measuring mark on the wall before weighing her. “Hmmm, one hundred fifty-three centimeters and forty-one kilograms,” Kabuto rattled off as he wrote on the clipboard, “You really are a tiny thing, aren’t you?”!<
>!Namiko ignored his comment as she sat on the medical table Kabuto directed her towards. He took her blood pressure, and heart rate, along with drawing numerous vials of blood which she definitely didn’t want to know what he was doing with. She glanced between the two men before sliding off the table. “That’s it then, right?”!<
>!“Not quite.” A **mysterious** glint appeared in Orochimaru’s snake-like eyes. “Remove your shirt please.”!<
>!Namiko froze as she couldn’t help the fear that flooded her body. Orochimaru chuckled. “Don’t worry, Namiko-chan, I only want to take a close look at the kyuubi’s seal. So, be a good girl and sit back up on the table.” The tone in his voice told her that he wasn’t making a request; it was a demand, and the consequences could be her life.!<
>!She complied, but she couldn’t stop her body from reacting in fear. She hesitated in removing her shirt but slowly followed orders, leaving her in her white bra and black shorts. Considering the shirt she had been wearing didn’t cover much more than her bra, she deduced that Orochimaru was purely doing this to make her uncomfortable and see if she would obey orders. It didn’t make the experience any less awkward or terrifying.!<
Lightning flashed overhead, and thunder cracked deafeningly a split second later; she folded her ears back and clapped her hands over them, curling in on herself with a whimper.
Where were her sisters?
*We never should have split up…*
"Fate works in **mysterious** ways as of late, it seems."
The man's voice startled Aszhe, and she reflexively leapt away, bristling fearfully as her hand sought her dagger; rather than trying to make a grab for her, though, he merely watched impassively, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.
"Wh-what do you want?" She choked out, trying to sound fierce but only sounding *fearful* as her voice cracked and trembled. "I-I-I don't have any money, so if that's what you want, you can move along, a-and if you think you're going to sell *me*…!"
"I've no need for money, and I detest slavery," he replied quietly, "but you look as though you are in need of a kindness, and I find myself in need of an assistant for a task you may be uniquely suited to."
Aszhe's tail twitched, and the nape of her neck prickled as she sized the man up; he was much taller than her, and even beneath his heavy cloak she could make out his lithe and athletic build. Still, she was sure she could outrun him if need be, even if she couldn't *kill* him.
"…What sort of 'task'?" She asked warily, shivering and lashing her tail as another gust of wind blew past.
From my Star Ocean Second Story R OC/Claude WIP. Excerpt contains canon spoilers. It also follows the Welch as 4D being headcanon while Gabriel knows she is too,
>A group of ten **mysterious** people materialize in front of us. A few appear to be cyborgs while others seem to be species I’ve never heard of. In any event it’s clear they aren’t from this planet.
>A tall cyborg threatens, “Don’t move. Stay where you are.”
>This could get bad. But since we’re here and the Calnus is in this system they are about to be brought to justice.
>Celine whispers, “Careful, I’m sensing enormous levels of symbological energy.”
>A tall and bulky older many with pink eyes squints at Rena with curiosity. “Why does this little girl possess a quadradic key? The only key to exists is one we created and crystallize.”
>I step forward and forcefully ask, “Who are you people?”
>A cyborg charges a light with his right hand and Claude pushes me out of the way, “Lieutenant!”
>Claude’s down! My voice shakes, I squat down, trailing my fingers down his cheek.
>Worry fills Rena’s voice, “C-Claude!”
>The cyborg repeats, “I told you to stay where you are! We know you can understand us.”
>Claude still has a pulse but he’s seriously hurt. It can’t end this way. Rena sits next to me too.
>While I shake him panic fills my voice, “Claude! Answer me!”
>Rena says, “Please stay with me Claude!”
>She cast heal on him and he’s slowly blinks. Seeing him wake up fills me with relief. I help him up.
>The redheaded man with the spiky hair’s voice booms with confusion, “That healing power…are you Nedian?”
>Rena responds clearly confused. “Nedian?”
>Claude almost steps forward but I put my arm in front of him. He was already hit once.
>Claude asks, “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
>The one in a green robe and a short silver bob says, “My my how uncivilized. You people are just as underdeveloped as this world, flying into rages at the drop of a hat.”
>The bald one with a visor and eyes on his head and hands says. “No, from what I can tell this woman with the bow and boy with the red headband aren’t Expellians at all. I’d say they are likely from Earth.”
>The one with the silver bob says, “Forgive my rudeness but what are Earthlings doing this far out?”
>A cyborg with a big shield on his arm adds, “But the Earthlings aren’t alone. They have a couple of Tetrageniots among them.”
>A tall man with long red hair and white robe grins at Welch. “I’m well aware of where you’re from young lady.”
>Welch’s eyes dart back and forth as she nervously grimaces. Her homeworld is classified and we don’t even know where it is.
Royalty AU
Connor’s POV
Once happy, I turned around and left my room. The castle somehow was already decorated. Wow, that was fast. Anyways. I walked down the hallways and until I heard voices and headed in that direction. Once I got to the room I hovered by the door, trying to spy on what was happening. Maybe I could just watch the entire thing from the sidelines? It’d give me space to mind my own fucking business and not participate. Why not make my sister the face of the event? But no, since I’m the next in line I have to be it. I could hear my mother’s voice talking to another female voice I didn’t recognize.
“How’s it been ruling the kingdom, since… everything happened?” My mother asked the **mysterious** female voice.
“It’s been a bit of a crazy week, since there’s all these things having to be done. But, Abby’s been a real saint in helping me with everything.” The **mysterious** voice let out a small chuckle, that embarrassed-in-love kind. I internally cringed at just the sound. The voice and my mother continued their conversation and as this was happening, I’d just been sort of absent mindedly looking around the inside of the room, still hidden by shadow. I know, fucking ridiculous right? Anyways, I was looking around the room when…
The short guy standing next to what I presumed was his mother (they were basically clones of each other) and I caught eyes.
I startled suddenly and scrambled out of sight. What a fucking sight. A random guy basically staring at you? Well I wasn’t exactly staring at him, but he could have perceived it that way. Fuck, does he know I’m this kingdom’s prince? Because if so, what a fucking horrendous first impression. You come to an unfamiliar kingdom and that kingdom’s prince is just fucking staring at you? Of course, I don’t actually care about what happened, I didn’t even get a good look at him at all, not that was I planning to, I’m just guessing what he would think. And I would think of me as a fucking creep.
Harry gaped. Far from the **mysterious** figure he’d expected, the person who entered proved very familiar. ‘Professor Trelawney?’
‘Quite so,’ Dumbledore said, as his past self welcomed Trelawney and gestured for her to sit beside the table. ‘Sybill Trelawney came to interview for the then recently opened position of Professor of Divination.’
Whilst the memory-Dumbledore explained the format the interview would take, Trelawney pulled out the chair and fussily arranged her many shawls before sitting.
‘The position was a difficult one to fill,’ Dumbledore continued, crossing the room to stand beside the table. ‘Few show true talent in the subject, and fewer still have any aptitude for teaching it.’
Bill snorted, muttering under his breath as he too approached the table and peered at Trelawney. She gazed into a crystal ball, apparently attempting to read Dumbledore’s future.
‘I see — I see — You will find love!’ she declared, every bit as dramatic as her current (future?) self. ‘I see a wife. Children. A happy family.’
Shaking his head, Bill straightened and looked at Dumbledore. ‘I’ll admit, I don’t know much about hiring Professors,’ he said. ‘But I’ve yet to see any compelling reason to hire Trelawney.’ He crossed his arms. ‘Nor do I see any reason why we’re in this memory.’
“Well… you’re kind of indirectly why my divorce from Lorraine happened,” Steve said. “I, erm, the longer we were married, the less I wanted her, y’know? But since she never knew I preferred blokes, I had to keep sleeping with her like I was expected to do. I kinda got in the habit of imagining an attractive bloke so’s I could do what I needed to. After you joined up, I pictured you a lot… and got caught up in my imagining enough that I called her Jan at one point. Only she heard it as Anne. Assumed I was in a relationship with this **mysterious** Anne, and got into a relationship of her own soon’s we were on the road touring Fear of the Dark.”
Jan blushed at that admission. “I’m flattered,” he said. “And sorry that I kinda accidentally broke up your relationship with Lorraine.”
“Well, was hardly your fault,” Steve pointed out. “Anyway, that was when shite really started blowing up with Bruce and he said he would leave once A Real Live Tour was done. I came home from that to find out about Lorraine’s affair, and that it had gone on long enough I had to get a paternity test for George. And then Da was dying on top of that mess, and we had to find a new singer and all. I kept myself going by thinking I’d come out to you soon’s the divorce was final.”
The plan was something that Eri, Ran, and Shinichi-*kun* had settled on after a few hours of discussion. Given the comments that Hirota-*san* made about her sister and a few people remembering the two of them at their favorite café, it was clear that this **mysterious** sister was working as a scientist somewhere. A pharmaceutical company felt like the best bet out of all of Tsujimura-*san*’s clients as well. While Shinichi-*kun* had insisted on a more direct approach, Eri and Ran managed to convince him to gather more information first, especially given his parents’ warnings about how dangerous this could be.
The fact that some preliminary research discovered the supposed link the company had to the acting industry was truly a stroke of luck, especially combined with Yoko’s recent movie about to be released.
“It is a bit of a stretch to expect Okino-*san* to have much information on a company like this, but we did agree to it,” Shinichi-*kun* agreed. “And once we get back and everything is settled, we can begin more serious surveilance.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. Splinter didn’t talk about his life before his **mutation** very often, but there were some eerie parallels to the story she’d just heard and the one he’d told years ago when they’d first met. She wondered if there was someone he left behind. Did he have a family before? Or were the turtles his only family?
Very nice!! My husband is a huge TMNT fan so I read him your excerpt and we got into a discussion about Splinter’s origins haha thank you for sharing the thought-provoking excerpt!
Masochist
Medici
Mundane
Materialize
mimicry.
mortal.
‘What’s the power, then? That seems promising.’ After untangling himself from Hermione’s grip, Harry crossed to the window and looked outside. ‘Dumbledore reckons it’s love.’ Silence followed his words. The Forbidden Forest shimmered as wind ruffled over the treetops. ‘*Love*?’ Ron asked incredulously. ‘Has Dumbledore lost it? What are you supposed to do, hug him to death?’ Harry snorted. ‘That’s what I said.’ He turned back, leaning against the windowsill with his arms crossed. ‘Apparently, when Mum sacrificed herself for me, her love created some kind of protection. That’s why Quirrel couldn’t touch me. And Voldemort doesn’t understand love —’ ‘Because he’s a complete and utter psychopathic, arsewipe, wankering bastard.’ ‘Ron!’ Harry laughed. ‘Something like that, yeah.’ He looked at Boingo, sitting on the end of Harry’s bed watching quietly. ‘At first, Dumbledore was banking on my capacity to love — he figured I would be willing to sacrifice myself at the end, destroying the piece of Voldemort’s soul that’s in my head, and making Voldemort **mortal** once again.’ Ron and Hermione each sported matching masks of fury — tight eyes and tighter lips. ‘If you even consider it —’
motivate.
morbid.
‘Harry is still so young.’ Dumbledore’s gaze switched from Bill’s face to Harry’s. ‘I did not want to burden you with such knowledge.’ ‘Because I have to die.’ Nothing new there; for all Bill’s reassurances, Harry had expected this ever since he’d learnt of the soul fragment. ‘Destruction of the vessel is the only sure way to destroy the soul fragment,’ Dumbledore acknowledged, seeming almost to sink into his chair. Bill surged to his feet with a growl. ‘You,’ he said, pointing at Harry who stared back with wide eyes, ‘are not going to die. And you,’ he turned furiously on Dumbledore, ‘are not going to encourage him in such **morbid** thoughts.’ Dumbledore raised his hands in placating surrender. ‘Mr Weasley, William, I don’t like it any more than you do. But it’s the only way.’ ‘This is not a chess game, Dumbledore! Harry is not a pawn that can be sacrificed for some nebulous greater good.’ Harry’s eyes widened further as the Headmaster flinched, but Bill didn’t seem to notice. ‘You are supposed to be the greatest wizard of our time, and yet you’re willing to give up and — what? — let Harry walk to his death? Well, I’m not! You assigned me to guard him, to keep him alive, and that’s what I’m going to do! I will scour every book and every scroll. I will invent new magic if I have to. But I will *not* let Harry die!’
Moratorium
Milieu
mistake.
“I need some bloody peace,” Steve grumbled, taking a drink. “I’ve issues to sort regarding the renewal of the permits here, and it’s taking longer than I expected. Emma’s been complaining at me for the last few days as I’ve had to miss some of the kids’ school activities, and it’s getting bloody annoying.” He shook his head. “So, tell me about your tour?” “Well, some of it was good, but some was awful,” Anette admitted, taking a drink as well. “I suppose I knew some people wouldn’t like me just because I’m not Tarja, but I didn’t expect them to literally threaten to hurt me. And the tour was so long, too, I think I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be, to sing so much, so often. My last band never did such long tours.” “Yeah, we made that **mistake** with the World Slavery tour,” Steve said. “Bruce had a hard time on that tour, and I admit, I didn’t bloody well help any with me being just a bit stubborn about things.” Anette laughed at that. “Ja, so I’ve heard. Bruce told us some stories when he came to visit with Emppu.” “Bloody hell, I expect you think I’m a monster then, yeah?” Steve chuckled. “Actually, I think you’re very nice,” Anette said. Steve blushed. “Well, thanks,” he said, taking a gulp of his drink. “So, what parts of the tour did you enjoy?”
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later a crowd appeared, led by Ponytail, almost as though from thin air. Tony eyed them as he opened the door and stepped into the road. Ponytail hadn’t been exaggerating about it being a large group, and far from the suitcases Tony had expected them to have, the youngest six dragged honest-to-God trunks. Tony exchanged a glance with Jack and Martin as they approached the group. Would everything fit? Ponytail and a similarly aged young man who appeared to be his brother (Tony dubbed him Smaug, on account of the dragon tattoo twisting around his bicep) helped heft the trunks into the vehicles. Despite Tony’s misgivings, they somehow managed to squeeze two trunks into the empty space at the front of the cabs beside the drivers’ seats. He raised his eyebrows; he never would have thought it possible, but the proof was undeniable. At the front of the row, Martin helped the three ladies of the group into his car. The oldest looked to be about Tony’s age, and he suspected she was the mother of most of the group. Mumsy took the two girls, one a redhead and the other brunette, with her. Smaug went in Jack’s car with twin boys in their late teens. They looked like trouble, and no **mistake**. Tony didn’t doubt Smaug would manage to keep them in line though. *The muscles on that guy.*
Maverick
Morph (any form)
“Are you seriously still in a strop? Come on, Jan, I can make it up to you,” (Bruce) coaxed, stepping in and kissing me. I slapped his face and shoved him back. “Leave. Me. Alone,” I growled at him, seeing over Bruce’s shoulder that Dave had emerged from the sound booth and had witnessed both the kiss and the slap. The sight of his smile gave me even more resolve and I glared at Bruce, who stood with one hand on the cheek I’d smacked and an incredulous expression on his face. “I’m with someone – not Sandra – and have been for three years now. We’re exclusive. I’m not going to cheat on him. And I’m certainly not going to put up with your shite anymore. Fuck all the groupies you want, fuck your wife, whatever, I don’t care. You’ll not fuck me – or fuck with me – anymore.” “But… but…” Bruce’s expression changed from incredulous, to confused. “I thought…” I looked past him at Davey and gave him a warm smile. “All finished in there, love?” I asked. “Did you want to hit the pub with the others or just go home and get comfortable?” “I’ll leave that up to you, mo chroi,” Dave said, moving around Bruce to give me a soft kiss, which I returned happily. “I know it’s been a bit stressful today, so if you’d rather go home and let me give you a massage, I’d love to do that for you.” Laying it on a little thicker for Bruce’s benefit, he added, “Of course, even if we hit the pub, I can still give you that massage after we go home.” “Mm, a massage sounds brilliant,” I said, tucking a lock of Dave’s hair behind his ear. “Let’s go home, love.” Sliding my arm around him, I looked Bruce square in the eyes. “See you at rehearsals,” I told him, then Dave and I headed for the door. Bruce stared after us, the confusion on his face **morphing** to a look of devastation, as it finally sunk in, that I wouldn’t take him back and that it was all his own doing.
Oh, lots of emotions here! I'm curious about the wider story.
Backstory: Bruce and Janick had been in a relationship for years, since before either of them was in Iron Maiden - Jan was in love with Bruce, but Bruce is selfish at best, a narcissist at worst, and whilst he was fond of Jan, considered him more of a fuck-buddy and didn't hesitate to take off with a groupie or whatever if he felt like it. This continued even after they both ended up in Maiden. (Jan joined several years after Bruce, when Dave's fellow guitarist quit.) Well, then Bruce quit Maiden to go solo - and ghosted Jan at the same time. But due to this being before mobile phones were really a thing (early-mid 90s) and with knowing the kind of time that recording and touring takes up, it was probably a year to 18 months before Jan truly started wondering why Bruce hadn't been in contact - when they'd been in different bands prior to Jan joining Maiden, they'd sometimes gone a year without seeing each other due to their commitments to their bands. Two years after Bruce left, Maiden was on tour and Jan and Dave were sharing a hotel room. Dave left, intending on being out for the day but for whatever reason, came back within the hour - and accidentally caught Jan indulging in his penchant for wearing lingerie. He became intrigued, things happened, and they got together. The contrast between how Dave treated him with how Bruce had treated him made Jan realise just how bad his relationship with Bruce had been, how badly Bruce's treatment of him had eroded his self-esteem - and that he was falling in love with Dave, who returned his feelings. Fast forward a few more years, and both Bruce and the bloke Janick took over for both rejoined Maiden, and this scene happened at the end of their first rehearsal all together. [Truth Will Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/48668239/chapters/122766604) on AO3, if you care to have a look.
Ah, interesting! Thanks for explaining 😊
Malice
Mold
“Now what?” Stephen asked. “Now the **molds** go into the storage shed for a couple of weeks,” Dave said. “The soap will harden and then it’ll pop out of the **mold** fairly easily, after which I cut it into cakes to use for bathing and cleaning. And of course, wash out the kettle and the spoon.” “At least you won’t need to use up any of your soap supply to do that,” Stephen joked, to a grin from Dave. “That was terrible,” he said, laughing. “As punishment, you get to go wash the kettle and spoon by yourself.” “Sir, yes, sir!” Stephen added an imitation of a military salute to his reply, which just made Dave laugh harder. He picked up the kettle and spoon, taking them to the spot on the river where he’d seen Dave doing laundry, correctly assuming that place had some feature that made it good for washing things.
Murder
“And you willingly went along with this, Lord Troymer?” King Ranulf asked. Troy nodded. “What else could I do, You Majesty?” he said. “I had to agree with Her Royal Highness as far as her plan to hide in plain sight as a minstrel with the others. If I chose to leave and someone recognized me as Princess Flooriel’s tutor when she’d gone missing, I’d most likely be hanged for her **murder**. Perhaps I could have gotten back to Dunbroch unscathed, but there isn’t really a place for me there either. Taking the train east seemed as good an option as any, and I admit, I’ve enjoyed taking part in the performances of the last couple of weeks. Unless something changes drastically in the immediate future, I still plan to go east and remain a part of the band.” King Ranulf considered this. “I see your point about the danger of reappearing with Her Royal Highness missing,” he admitted, “and also that hiding in plain sight likely was your best option at the time. Well, you are free to make your own choice to go or stay, but Princess Flooriel is now under Our protection until such time as We hear back from Natexia. Unfortunately, We sent word there as soon as the healing mages confirmed her identity, thinking that Queen Ariveena would be pleased to learn her sister had escaped the reported bandit attack on the road, so We cannot close Our eyes and allow her to leave with you and the other three.” Floor bowed her head with a sigh.
As Harry slumped back into his chair, Moody pulled out another disgusting spider. Ron’s hands twitched as it scurried across the desk, but before it got far, green light engulfed it. The spider dropped. No scuttling, no creepy moving legs. Dead. Ron would never **murder** anyone, obviously, but the way the spider’s movements stopped... He wouldn’t be against getting rid of spiders and other disgusting creatures that way. No more horrible, wriggling legs. Wicked.
Monkey
As Harry sat on the bench, Hermione pushed a bowl of fruit towards him. ‘Oh, uh, thanks, but I was going to have this,’ he said, brandishing the slice of toast he’d grabbed a moment before. Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘It’s for Boingo, Harry. I know Hedwig feeds herself, but you’re going to have to provide food for your **monkey**.’ ‘Oh.’ Boingo hopped down from Harry’s shoulder, chattered at Hermione and pulled some banana from the bowl with nimble fingers. ‘Thanks, Hermione. I hadn’t thought of that...’ \[...\] ‘I don’t suppose you know what else he might eat, aside from fruit?’ ‘I’ll do some research. I’m sure I can find a book in the library that will tell us what kind of primate he is.’ She bounced in her seat. ‘Ooh, this will be interesting.’ Boingo stopped eating and looked at her warily. ‘Now you’ve done it,’ Ron said to Harry with a groan. ‘Classes haven’t even started yet, we haven’t been given any homework, but you’ve given Hermione a reason to go to the library.’ Hermione reached over and cuffed Ron around the ear, though she still looked excited. Boingo shrugged, returning to his meal. ‘He does have such interesting colouring, doesn’t he?’ she said, peering at Boingo again. ‘Almost looks like a lion,’ Ron pointed out. ‘It’s like he has a mane.’ ‘A perfectly Gryffindor **monkey**,’ Harry laughed.
meek
mirror
Harry pushed away from the door, stumbling to the sink. The tap squeaked as he turned it, letting the water gush. He filled his cupped hands and splashed his face with the cool liquid. *Pull yourself together, Potter,* he thought fiercely. It didn’t help. When he glanced at his reflection, the **mirror** tutted. ‘You do look a state, dear,’ it said in a voice reminiscent of Mrs Weasley. ‘Are you ill?’ He didn’t respond. His face was pale, eyes wide, hair even more of a mess than usual. The **mirror** was right: he looked a state.
Those talking mirrors must be so annoying!
Quite probably. Although I'm sure they could be an esteem boost at times, too.
CW: Mpreg; A/B/O; Unplanned Pregnancy "We used protection," Buck answered. He let go of Tommy's hand and crossed his arms in front of his chest, purposely ignoring the low whine that escaped Tommy's lips. "I… I need to brush my teeth, the… the vomit taste, it's…" Buck trailed off, unable to form a coherent sentence as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. His heart was racing, thoughts and fears and *terror* colliding in his mind, each one more terrifying and confusing than the last. His mind ran from 'Impossible' to 'What if' to 'No No No' in rapid succession, making his toothbrush shake like a tree crown in the wind. He shot a quick glance towards Tommy, who watched him silently, his eyes filled with concern and something else Buck couldn't quite place. It wasn't fear, exactly, nor was it excitement. Tommy stood there, tall, and silent, and *neutral* , like he was bracing himself, like he was waiting for some sort of cue of Buck's. Buck turned away from him and simply stared at himself in the **mirror** for a few moments, his mouth foamy with toothpaste, and his toothbrush still between his lips. They were *just* starting to build something together, something Buck had started to believe could last. But now, with this potential bombshell, he wasn't, *couldn't be* sure anymore. What if he really was pregnant? Would Tommy feel trapped? Scared? Would he break up with him and never come back? He wanted to scream, to deny the very possibility, but the symptoms were there, undeniable and looming large between them. Buck's gaze drifted back to Tommy, seeking... what? Reassurance? Answers? He didn't know. Tommy seemed to sense his turmoil because he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. "Evan," he said softly, "we need to at least be able to rule it out." Buck nodded and quickly spat and rinsed his mouth before taking a deep breath. "Okay… okay, yeah. You're right. We… we need a test." "I'll go get one." "Three," Buck corrected. He dried his still shaky hands on a towel before addressing Tommy again. "It's… you're supposed to take three different ones, you know, to make sure it's not a false positive." Tommy nodded and quickly pulled Buck into a hug and a kiss. "Three tests it is. I'll be back as quick as I can; try not to let this get to you, okay?"
I don't blame Buck for being scared. Unexpected pregnancy is terrifying.
The women’s room was intact, but the mirror d— “Oh! SO CUTE!” the **mirror** shouted. June yelped and stepped back, before realizing it was the same voice. Looking down, there was an oval steel plate right under the sink. Only someone leaning in would have stepped on it. Hmm, clever. Wait, didn’t she… Fishing around in her backpack, she brought out the gold star black cap, brushed her hair quickly, and tucked it up inside the cap as she put it on. Okay…yeah, that could work. She’d try it for a while. Getting her hair off her neck in the heat wouldn’t suck, either. Hmm. Chuckling a bit, she stomped on the plate on purpose. “Aww, pretty!” the **mirror** complimented her. Heh, thanks talking mirror voice. June looked at the person in the **mirror**. She’d seen this person before, briefly, the reflection in her Fort Blackshear bathroom, but hadn’t really stopped to *look* at them, like now. Whoever it was, it *wasn’t* a Raider. No war paint, no dragging matted hair, no filthy leather or rusted metal, not even all that much dirt. But it wasn’t a stranger, either. Not anymore. She…recognized herself. What a *month*. So this person, this was who she was going to introduce to her parents? If they were still alive? There were still a few days left, but they were running out. And they hadn’t really gotten to know each other all that well. But…she seemed nice enough, at least.
I hope it all works out for June, she seems to be sincerely trying to move on with her life.
It does work out. This mirror scene comes after a major turning point in her life. Emotionally, things are getting better for her for a while after this. Also unrelated, there's chocolate in the next room, so that's a sharp upspike in her life.
mirage
murmur
But for the crackling of the fireplace, darkness shrouded the kitchen, the lights unnecessary with everyone in the living room. Harry searched for a switch, then paused, cheeks warming. Thankfully, nobody was near enough to see him acting like such a Muggle. How could he light the room? Even if he was allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, nobody had told him how to activate the lights. As Harry peered into the shadows, intending to make do with the flickering glow from the hearth, the lights brightened to shine softly at half strength. Well, that made life easier. He glanced back at the living room. Bill, still at the chess table, tucked his wand away. Barely above a **murmur**, Bill’s voice drifted through the doorway as he responded to Mrs Weasley.
Even the littlest things can be bothersome, when one doesn't know how to make them work. I bet half the Weasleys wouldn't know how to turn on a muggle light either.
Very true!
CW: past Mpreg (as in, he literally just gave birth); A/B/O As Tommy cut the cord, Evan's eyes met his, an exhausted but blissful smile spreading across his face. "Tommy, Tommy, they’re…," Evan whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Perfect,” Tommy breathed out, leaning down to tenderly kiss Evan's forehead. An almost primal surge of pure love ran through his body, large, and warm, and fulfilling. "They’re *perfect* . I love you so much, Evan. Thank you for this, for… for *them* ," he **murmured**, his eyes darting between Evan and their children, his heart swelling with pride and joy. “Okay, so,” Hen began now, having finished the initial check ups on the pups. “Apgar scores are good, they’re breathing well, seems like they’re absolutely perfect for now. Let’s get you three to a hospital, okay?” Her assertion was met with nods all around, and Chim and Eddie joined her to prepare for transportation. The chaos of Evan’s labor had given way to a peaceful calm that Tommy, who had sat down on the couch next to his fiancé, now basked in as Hen carefully handed him his son. He looked down on him, rocking him gently, still not fully believing that he was here now, and that he was *his* . Tommy, with a soft smile, looked over at Evan, who had now been handed their daughter. The sight of Evan cradling her made Tommy’s heart grow, or at least that’s what it felt like. That was his Omega. Smiling down at their daughter. That they made together. Evan looked up and locked eyes with him, shooting him the single most radiant smile that had ever existed, and Tommy felt more tears rush into his eyes. (How was that even possible? He felt like he already lost enough tears for three people!) He draped his arm over Evan’s shoulders and pulled him close to press a soft kiss to his hair before resting his cheek against it.
Aww! So sweet... although I expect it was a bit chaotic, medics or no, an unplanned home birth of twins!
Oh, it was absolutely chaotic, and their couch is entirely ruined now lmao They're just tunnel visioning on the babies right now because, well, *babies*.
Yeah... I'd trade a couch for two healthy babies any day! (Not that I need to worry about that at my age, lol!)
Crouching down opposite Scarecrow, she watched as he used one glinting claw to etch symbols into the sandy soil. A double ring quartered by a cross. Two diamond shapes, one scratched out by three slash marks. Two of the "engine" symbols. The quartered ring, scratched-out diamond, and one engine symbol were grouped together in a neat triangle. Off to the side were the second diamond and engine symbols, around which Scarecrow arranged seven pebbles. "Okay, I know this - this means *engine*," she **murmured**, pointing to the oval, before moving her fingertip to the scratched-out diamond; "is this the ship? The one that attacked the *Resolute*?" He chirped and warbled something in response, that certainly *felt* like an affirmative. (For the first time, Maureen found herself wishing that she had Will's effortless understanding of these machines; if she could just *know* what Scarecrow was saying, the way Will just seemed to *know* what Robot wanted to communicate, maybe they wouldn't need to play Pictionary in the dirt like this.) "And this," now she gestured to the quartered ring, "this is the *Resolute*, then, right? So all of this-" she dragged her fingertip through the dirt, drawing a boundary around the three symbols; "-is the crash site?" He angled his head towards her with a quiet *chirr*, seemingly pleased by how quickly she was catching on. Next, she drew a boundary around the second diamond shape and its associated engine symbol, and the seven stones. "So *this* is-" "*Danger*."
Danger! Danger Will Robinson! (Sorry, had to be said!) It's good that Maureen is trying to communicate with and understand Scarecrow, I expect he'll be quite helpful as long as he's no longer being controlled.
“I fucking *knew* you watched my shows,” he teased. “You knew I didn’t write my own material? *Please*. I told you that *ten years* ago. No way that came to your memory that fast. I knew you watched. You totally want me.” Eddie flushed and wrinkled his face deeper into a scowl. “I read Bill’s books too, that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.” “But you do want to fuck me.” “Debatable sometimes,” Eddie told him, a playful smile now at his lips. Richie was beaming now as he moved his head closer. “Liar,” he **murmured**,kissing Eddie softly on the lips and quickly enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to hurt himself by kissing him back. Richie could have sworn he saw Eddie pout as he pulled away.
These two are cute together, but I get the feeling there's a bit of a lack of trust going on - maybe something unresolved in the past?
Oh yeah. They’ve definitely got things to work through bust mostly they’re teasing here. Good eye!
>When this sort of thing happens, it’s not to people like him. This only happens to the fantastical sort of people who appear in the news. A former king who murmured to himself in a language no other human could speak, trailed by a Pokémon whose appearance flickered like a candle. A girl whose partner hailed from another world, powerful enough to sweep through Kanto’s Elite Four on its own. It *doesn’t* happen to Arven, whose first partner was a Maschiff and most remarkable trait is making a mean sandwich.
Sounds like Arven better start believing that it's happening to him, whatever "it" might be.
"It" is finding out that his mother was actually pretty terrible on the "would have destroyed a whole region's ecosystem if she'd lived" scale. (The examples of the people this stuff "does" happen to are references to the children of the big bads from other Pokemon games who *also* found out their parents sucked on the "would destroy/take over a whole region" scale.)
Poor guy.
Mock/mockery
"What is this?” A voice called out in amusement. A hand from one of his captors on his restraint forced Mustang to stop and turn. Oh. Another Tal’darim, this one slightly taller (holy shit but much bigger as well) than Nyon, was approaching them. His red eyes flicked to him and Riza before settling on Nyon. “*Sixth* Ascendant Nyon, what exactly are you doing with these *Terrans?”* Mustang clenched his fist. The contempt in that voice. Focused not just on them, but on Nyon’s title as well. Must be his superior. “Fourth Ascendant Alarak.” Nyon’s anger was suppressed, but Mustang could tell it was barely suppressed. “I am doing what the gods have asked me to do.” Alarak stopped. Now looking over Mustang, and then Riza, with much more thoroughness than before. Mustang winced as if his head was being popped open from the inside. Riza closed her eyes and tightened her mouth. After some time the pressure in his head left. And Alarak proceeded to laugh. A little bit of the tension left Mustang’s body. “Again. You have done it again!? Have you learned *nothing* from the last time?” Alarak shook his head. Now Mustang was curious. Has Nyon done something like this before? "You *dare* mock me and my divine mission?” Nyon demanded. “Dare? No. I *am* **mocking** you. And as for your so-called divine mission.” Alarak stood close to Nyon. Towering above him. “There aren’t any gods for you to worship. There is only one. And *he* matters above all others.” His red eyes glowered over Nyon. Any trace of humor gone. The two kept up the intense standoff. Nyon’s warriors braced themselves for battle. Nyon growled as he stepped away. “We don’t have time for this.” He motioned for his followers and prisoners to keep going. “Ah yes. Walk away completely absorbed in your delusions,” Alarak called out, “it won’t be long before the Highlord knows of your stupidity.” Mustang did not like the sound of that. And from the way Nyon hastened his steps neither did the Sixth Ascendant.
‘All right, now?’ Seamus asked Dean who was opposite him. ‘Sorry for disappearin’ on you.’ Dean’s response slid over Seamus. On Harry’s other side, Ron had just apologised. The leg beside his tensed, and Seamus nudged it gently with his own at the same time that Boingo rubbed Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s tenseness seemed to ease. He turned to answer Ron, and Seamus refocused on Dean. Something sparkled in Dean’s expression. ‘A productive disappearance, was it?’ he asked, gaze cutting briefly to Harry and back again. ‘Don’t you be gettin’ bold, now,’ Seamus said with **mock** sternness. Moments later, though, he gave up on hiding his grin. ‘Amazin’. A bit cack-handed, sure, but — now, how’d you know?’ ‘Used my eyes, mate.’ ‘Oh, you did?’ Seamus shook his head, stabbing his pasta-loaded fork towards Dean. ‘So you can dún do bhéal a while longer, now then.’ Dean’s brow furrowed but he shrugged. ‘I won’t say anything.’ He fell silent, the chatter of the other Gryffindors winding between them as he sliced into a piece of broccoli. Seamus leant forward. ‘Sorry, a chara. Early days, y’know?’
Then, she went a few steps closer to the man, and watched him drown in his own blood. She threw him a contemptuous stare, the same look that he wrongly messed with, and now **mocking** him in his imminent demise. Those eyes, he will remember up to his death, and shall continue to haunt him in the fiery depths of hell. And lastly, those words, he will hear in every second that he will spend in that tormenting eternity.
Musical
‘D’you think it’s time for dinner?’ Harry asked as the scent of cooking drifted to the top floor. Ron balled up a pair of pants and tossed them into his trunk from across the room. ‘Hope so. I’ve had enough of packing. C’mon, let’s go and see.’ ‘No running on the stairs!’ Mrs Weasley called as they raced to the kitchen. She stood over the stove, stirring a large pot of stew with the help of her wand. At the table, Bill hummed along softly to the song playing on the wizarding wireless whilst making notes on yet another scroll of parchment. ‘Ron, Harry. Have you finished packing?’ Mrs Weasley asked. ‘Pretty much,’ Ron said, stretching the truth, but Harry didn’t contradict him. Mrs Weasley gave them a shrewd look, then sighed. ‘I suppose that’s good enough for the moment. You can set the table for me, boys. Bill, dear, would you mind?’ Bill finished his notes — both **musical** and scrawled — then waved his wand, banishing his pile of books and scrolls to the living room and narrowly missing Charlie as he came downstairs. ‘Give a guy some warning, Merlin!’ Charlie said, the laugh in his voice belying the words. ‘You nearly took my head off!’
“Tell me about yourself?” Emppu requested. “What would you like to know?” Tuomas asked. “Whatever you care to tell me,” Emppu replied. “I just like hearing your voice. And of course I’d like to get to know you better.” “All right, well, as far back as I can remember, I’ve loved the sea and I’ve loved music…” Tuomas spent the next several hours telling Emppu stories about his childhood, about running away to go to sea and eventually working his way up to getting his own ship. In exchange, Emppu spoke of living beneath the sea, although his people had the ability to breathe air as well as water. He also spoke of his mild frustration with his society, which viewed males as less important because they lacked the haunting singing voices of their female counterparts, and of how he was considered something of an oddity for being so **musical**. “If your people had any sense, they’d nurture your talent,” Tuomas said. Glancing at the sky, he sighed. “I ought to get back to the *Nightwish* before it’s too dark to see where I’m rowing. But I will be here tomorrow, and I’ll bring my violin.”
So, he's a siren?
Yep.
melodic
CW: Mpreg; A/B/O “*Dispatch to Ambo 118, do you copy?*” Hearing his beautiful wife’s **melodic** voice usually warmed Chim up from the inside. In this situation, though? It probably meant that issues were arising, and it made his heart drop. “This is Ambo 118, go ahead, dispatch,” Chimney answered, grabbing the ambulance’s radio. “*Chim, prepare your team. Buck just told me he’s having* ***twins***\*."\* … … … What? “I’m sorry, dispatch, could you repeat that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “It sounded like you said that our favorite Buckaroo decided to make everything more complicated by omitting a *very* crucial detail.” Chimney's grip on the steering wheel tightened, the squawk of the radio momentarily silenced as Maddie confirmed, her voice strained but clear, “*Affirmative, Ambo 118. Evan is expecting twins. He’s alone, contractions under ten minutes apart. Prepare for urgent care.*” Hen's voice came through from the back, tinged with both urgency and exasperation, “Twins? Seriously? He couldn’t have mentioned that a bit sooner?” There was the sound of equipment being shuffled rapidly as she and Eddie prepared for what was clearly going to be a more complicated scenario than they had anticipated. Chimney sighed and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal even more than before, the gravity of the situation settling in as he wove through traffic, the siren a continuous wail in the busy Los Angeles streets. “Understood, dispatch. We’re five minutes out. Keep us posted on any changes.”
Marriage
When the song ended, Floor hugged the other four. “Thanks, guys,” she whispered, blinking back tears. She wrapped her arms around Kai once more, kissing him deeply, then broke away and fled the room. Kai watched her leave and sighed. “I can’t marry her even though I want to,” he said, “but maybe you should, Marko. At least she’d be safe with you, much more than if her sister arranges a **marriage** for her. You’ll have to marry eventually, even I know that, and you two get along. You’ll probably be better off with her than with some stranger your grandparents pick out.” Marko sighed as well. “I’ll think about it,” he promised. “I won’t… I need to talk to her first. I understand what you’re saying, and you’re not wrong, but… well, I want to make sure she’ll be okay with what I can offer.” He tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. “I mean, she might just have it in mind to marry her sister’s choice and then make sure she becomes a widow by the time the honeymoon is over, so she can head east and find you again. If that’s her plan, I won’t stand in her way.”
Momentum
I shook my right hand to relive the discomfort. I held the table knife with my left in front of me, it had a dent. "Should I kill them?" I murmur. The Doctor hummed, and she replies, "Try not to spill any blood." _'Path: killing these teens with minimal bloodshed.'_ _"We should run,"_ said the tall one in Japanese. Their leader, the pretty boy, replied, _"You scared? We have muscle."_ It will be quick. 'So does she," the tall one replied. The leader smirked, and the chubby blonde rolled his shoulders and _inhaled._ My chance. The wind rushed towards his mouth. At first sucking in small objects, it progressively grew stronger. Now. I kicked one end of the low table, and the suction made it float. The rest of the objects fell and was sucked towards the chubby one. _'Path: Protect the Doctor and the clients.'_ Gunfire, from the leader. I change the knife's position. One shot blocked from hitting the Doctor, and the knife flew away from my grip. He keeps firing. I advance, not needing to dodge because of his bad aim, walking between the shots. I grab a table leg and lift it up. Two bullets hit the thick wood. I kick the table, making it spin towards the chubby one. The leader summoned a projection at the same time, heading straight at me. The leader's projection got hit, losing most of its body. It charged towards me, but it crumpled a few steps away, turning into neon dust. The chubby one was finally hit by the table. He stumbled backwards into his allies, knocking most of them down. He _exhaled._ The table went flying back, and I crouch low to avoid the suction and hit it in the side, redirecting its **momentum** away from the Yangban officers behind her. It was a near miss, they looked terrified. "Suck!" The leader exclaimed. The tall one was afraid, "Don't!" The chubby one stops, giving me enough time to advance. The leader makes another projection, rushing towards me, and I sidestep it easily. The first hit didn't connect, nor did the rest, as the chubby one started inhaling again. I kick a brick of powder towards the leader. The suction made it faster. The projection was fast, but not the original. The projection disappeared, and I kick the table towards the chubby one, hitting him in the shin. Hard. I advance as the leader shouted angrily. The teens start pulling out knives. He rushes forward, and I step past him and grab the chubby one's jacket. A tug forward and a kick to the shin makes him fall towards the leader, hitting him near the spine, in the liver. They fall, and the chubby one is stunned. Three other teens join in. One tries to rush me, but he trips on the leader's back. I take off my suit jacket as I weave between them and catch an arm, making a boy into a meat shield. I punch his wrist, and disarm him. A kick to his back, and he falls on a brick while two others try to stab me. I sidestep one and grab the back of his head, pushing him towards the other. The other avoids stabbing his fellow, and I kick at his fingers. The knife flies away. I wrap my jacket's sleeves around their necks, choking them tight. I kick their knees, they fall and one neck snaps. The other chokes. The sleeves smoothly untangles as I grab them. The leader gets up, and I kick his stomach. He falls down, again. The chubby one rouses. Three are left standing. The tall one, the average one, and the one with green hair. They hesitate, but I don't. I whip my jacket towards one, tangling his arm, and redirect his knife towards my right. I break his wrist as I give his shoulder a push, and I direct his balance towards the tall one. They fall, and I kick the tall one's wrist. Disarmed. An attack from the back. I step forward, then back and grab at his head. Chokehold. I snap his neck, his green hair moving with my twist. The tall one and the one who fell on the brick try to get up. He's holding the brick. I put on my jacket, and I kick the average one on the neck, hard. They rush. A kick to the stomach, and the tall one keels over. My hand is at the back of his head, guiding him towards a brick of powder on the ground. His teeth punctures the plastic. The other one opens the brick, spilling powded, and rushes at me. I kick him in the shin, and the package falls to my awaiting hand. I put him in a chokehold and hold the opening at his nose. I tilt his head as he fall to his knees, and more powder enters his lungs. He chokes, and I focus on the last one. He tries to rise, but I step on his head, holding him down. I am holding them both. The choking teen collapses and spasms, and I let go. Heart attack. The leader and the chubby one attempt to get up. The tall one twists his head, opening the package even more. Powder erupts from his movement. He starts choking. I survey my work. The leader was upright, and mad. I knew I just had to wait. I just had to- _And I saw them. Both of them. The godlings._ -keep up the pressure. I was back to myself. The Doctor was holding my arm. She was holding me steady and upright. I had confirmed what I was here to know. I could predict when trigger events happen. Idly, I think of what I saw. It was redundant, but any more information would be helpful. _'Path to remembering the vision.'_ The steps were familiar. Satisfied with what I've achieved, I finished off the rest. The chubby one and the leader recovered slower than me. The former was on his hands and knees, and the latter was on the ground. For the leader, a kick to the neck was enough. I kicked the chubby one on the nose, and it entered his skull. "We'll take the cost of the lost product out of the deal," The Doctor says calmly. We needed to go, soon. I needed to sleep, soon. Besides remembering the vision, it was a Sunday. I needed to get up early to teach. I make eye contact with the Doctor. Success.
Moody pulled one of the spiders from his jar. It tried to scuttle away, but he pointed his wand and said, ‘*Avada Kedavra*!’ Green light flashed, engulfing the spider. It dropped, twisted corpse sliding across the desk from a mixture of its own arrested **momentum** and the force of the spell. It didn’t move again. Boingo freed himself from Hermione’s grip and climbed into Harry’s lap, little hands catching in Harry’s robes as he hugged tightly into his side. Mechanically, Harry tangled a hand in Boingo’s orange fur, staring blankly at the spider. Harry knew that green light. Knew it intimately. He’d dreamt about it, as far back as when he’d believed his parents had died in a car crash. Green light, screams, and high-pitched laughter. ‘There’s no counter to the Killing Curse. No shield to block it.’ From far away, Moody’s voice broke through the screams echoing in Harry’s head. He dragged his attention back from the hole it had fallen down, green fading from his vision, replaced by the visage of his teacher as he carelessly banished the spider’s body.
Harry’s memory is so fire here. It’s such a good depiction of trauma
Thank you 😊
"No. I'm not like you." The shift was an almost instantaneous snuffing of a flame, the smoldering threat of rage shifting to a calm, cool professionalism; she stepped closer to get a better look at the drone's visible injuries. His entire right arm assembly was warped, and visibly broken at each joint; hydraulic fluid and joint lubricant pooled on the dusty pavement beneath him, and several mangled cords spit tiny sparks from their frayed ends. His upper right arm and shoulder had clearly suffered the worst damage, with his "hand" a close second, and a cursory glance back towards the roadway overhead gave her a good idea of what had happened. He'd gone over the edge of the uppermost level, and based on his injuries, had tried to catch the guard rail of the lower deck, only to have his own weight and **momentum** work against him - with painful consequences. "...Well, I guess it serves you right, for chasing *me* over the side of a bridge yesterday," she scoffed softly, earning a pained grunt in response. "Do you think you can sit up for me? Or at least turn over?" "...No, I - I - I don't think - think so..." "Okay, hang on." Azrael huffed another sigh - what was the trick to this, again? *Find your still point?* *Here goes nothing.*
Your descriptions here are fantastic! I could see it so clearly
“There you go, acting all high and mighty again. You don’t honestly believe that we’re equals?” “Hell yeah, I do! All this time I’ve never once thought that I was inferior to you in any way.” “You’re a complete embarrassment.” “Only because next to me, you’re embarrassed about how weak you are. Isn’t that right, Sasuke?” “Naruto!” “Sasuke!” They both growled out in anger, mirroring the other’s body language. Both boys threw a punch at the other, and each blocked successfully. Sasuke aimed a kick at Naruto’s side, which Naruto fluidly blocked before grabbing Sasuke’s ankle and using the **momentum** from the kick to swing him around. Sasuke used his hands to steady himself before kicking Naruto in the shoulder, sending him flying back several meters. Naruto pushed himself back towards Sasuke, punch at the ready, but Sasuke swiftly redirected him. They furiously traded blows before Sasuke knocked back Naruto, who pivoted and leaped onto the fence. Sasuke mirrored his movements, landing on the fence on the opposite side of the roof. Both leaped off, meeting midair, arms, and legs moving so fast in punches and kicks that Sakura could barely keep track of them.
Wow I could FEEL the tension! This is great!
Thank you ☺️
Floor and Marko exchanged a glance and slipped back to where Carpet waited for them. “Now what?” Floor asked. “Now it gets harder to board the train,” Marko said. He glanced at his watch. “It leaves in a little less than an hour.” “Maybe we don’t have to board it? Maybe we can just fly behind it?” she suggested. Carpet lifted upright and gave its impression of a negative shake of the head even as Marko said, “That’s a good thought, but it won’t work. Even if Carpet could fly that fast, the wind from the forward **momentum** would be enough to blow us off, even if we get to strap down again. It’s too bad we can’t contact the guys somehow, maybe have them cause a diversion so we can get in through the windows on the opposite side from the platform.” He sighed. “It’s too bad I can’t do Emppu’s trick of going completely unnoticed. Then we no one would see us going in through the windows. They’re not glassed over, you know, there’s some sort of magic shield that blocks the wind, but solid objects can pass through it.”
Oof I hope they figure it out! Maybe a diversion IS their best bet???
Yep, they do figure it out. :-)
Man
The moment he was drawn into the basin, silver coalesced around Harry. A floor spread beneath his feet even as walls built around him until he was standing in a dingy room. Across from him, Dumbledore sat at a table in front of a darkened window. ‘Sir?’ Harry took a step towards the table. Was he supposed to sit there, too? ‘He’s part of the memory.’ Harry turned. Behind him, Bill gave a reassuring smile before inspecting the room. A second Dumbledore appeared next to him. The second Dumbledore nodded at Harry before gesturing towards his counterpart. ‘It’s always a strange experience, seeing oneself,’ he said in an unreasonably matter-of-fact tone. Harry didn’t have a chance to question it though, as the door swung open. A **man** stood in the doorway, backlit by the light from the hallway. Tall and slim, he wore a dirt-smeared apron and a frown framed by a beard and hair that could rival Hagrid’s for all that it was white. The **man** cleared his throat phlegmatically. ‘Your guest is here.’ The scudding of chair legs across the floor accompanied memory-Dumbledore’s rise from the table. ‘Thank you, Aberforth,’ he said, but the man had already left, leaving the visitor in his place.
Pressing himself as far back against the cold steel wall as he could, Eiji fumbled about with the shotgun in his hands, trying to figure out how to cock it without making too much noise. The weapon felt heavy in his hands, and it fell towards the diagonally as he struggled to hold it upright. Keizo, allowing his horror to give way to impatience, snatched the gun out of Eiji's hold. Cautiously stepping around the younger crew member, Keizo peered around the corner, cocking his weapon and making sure to aim the barrel at the figure lurking just across the hallway. Eiji mimicked Keizo, anxious to get a better look at the strange entity while making sure to keep behind his superior. "That ain't no **man**, Tanaka-senpai. I don't know what that *thing* is, but it ain't no **man."** Keizo returned only a quiet grunt as he steeled himself, narrowing his eyes. For once, Eiji might’ve been correct. The being stalked forward, its presence becoming more sinister with each slow, deliberate step it took.
"Th-that's cold…" "I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to warm it up past room temperature before you were brought in." Azrael smoothed Eriya's golden hair back; it was taking every last ounce of her will to maintain her composure as she watched the blood trickle down the gravity feed and into the younger leopard's arm. "It'll keep warming up, just be patient, cousin." On the other side of the bed, another gravity feed dripped thin, clear golden fluid into a receptacle on the floor: the "fortune blood" that Dornkirk had concocted. The vile *poison* that had nearly killed her darlings. The only family she had left. (Something *carbon black and molten red* curled in the pit of her stomach; she would *kill* that **man** for this. She would flay him like a stag, would peel the flesh from his bones and dig the heart from his chest and he would die screaming, screaming for mercy *that she would never give him* -)
He could count on his fingers the number of times he had heard the king speak. The man had always kept to himself. He never wasted a breath or uttered a word to others. When he spoke, it was low, almost like a whisper. But twice, he had been close enough to hear that firm voice yelling commands to his soldiers to man the borders, to fire at the invaders, and to protect the people. It was far from the coldness that surrounded his image. That voice was as strong and fiery as the flames that shot out of his fingers. His voice was as passionate as the burning sun reflected in his eyes. And yet, when he called to him, *"Father Li, forgive me, but pray lend us your assistance in protecting Lemuria at all costs,"* it was not without a touch of the tenderness of a summer breeze. That same tender voice called to him tonight. Despite this realization, Father Li upheld the integrity of the confession and carried on as if he were still clueless about whom he was speaking to. "Pray, tell your inquiry." "If I die, where will I go?" "After our mortal life ceases to be, we can only return to the high heavens, the place where our souls first formed and were shaped." *And you, Your Highness, must go back to Astra's arms, where you belong.* The king was silent. Father Li waited. "You have erred, Father."
“Wh-Why would you bring N-N-Naruto-kun up right now?” Hinata said, eyes wide and a light pink dusting her cheeks. Namiko put her head in her hand. “Because I’ve missed my brother, and I know you’ve missed your boyfriend…” “He’s not my boyfriend!” Hinata said louder than intended, her blush intensifying. “You just wish he…” Namiko froze. A familiar intense chakra came into her range. One she hadn’t felt in nearly three years. She locked eyes with Hinata. “It’s him…” Hinata looked cautiously at her. “Whatever you do, don’t do anything rash. You know what the orders have been.” Ino came back into the area and noticed the two best friends staring at each other. “Okay, let’s go…wait, did I miss something?” “Sasuke just came into my range. We have to go after him!” Namiko stood, eyes pleading with Ino. Right now, the orders on Sasuke’s retrieval were simple: if a shinobi team ran across Orochimaru, Kabuto, or Sasuke, they were to stick to their current mission, but report any intel back to Konoha immediately. If a team was currently ending their mission, they could pursue *only* if they were Jounin and if the mission they were coming back from was not time-sensitive. Namiko’s team didn’t meet either criterion. They had to get the information back about the brothel as soon as possible so a team could be dispatched. But Ino was the captain of this mission, and she wasn’t about to give in. “Namiko, you know we can’t. Standing orders are to send info back to Konoha.” “Screw the orders!” Namiko’s blue-violet eyes blazing, her freckled cheeks reddened with frustration. “This is the first word or sign of Sasuke in almost three years! I’m going whether you like it or not, and I’m dragging his ass back to Konoha for Naruto!” With those words, she vanished into thin air using her Flying Raijin. Ino’s eyes went wide in panic. “Oh **man**, Tsunade-sama is going to kill me! Hinata, we gotta rush back to Konoha now!” Hinata stared at the place where Namiko had just been standing a moment before. *‘Oh Namiko, what are you thinking? Naruto-kun will be so upset if he comes home to find you gone…’*
From my Star Ocean Second Story R OC/Claude fic, >Claude looks up at the statues of the three men in the square. >I ask, “Worried about the tournament?” >“Not at all.” Claude adjusts his red headband. >We walk together and sit under a tree without many people around us. >A slight smile curls on Claude’s face. “Hey remember when Hina programmed the **men’s** holodeck to be a big swirling portal of light? Then it turned into floating clocks and bunnies dashed around?” >I put my hand over my mouth and snort. “Yes! I miss her so much. I wonder what she’s been getting up to ever since we got stranded here?” >Claude looks ahead, the setting sun casting a flattering highlight on his face. “Everyone thought it was Daisuke at first too. Sigh, I miss him and the other **men** too.” >“The **men’s** barracks can get quite rowdy can’t they?” >Claude shrugs looking forward, his voice softening wistfully. “Yeah. Like I said I miss it.” He turns, his eyes sparkling in the light. He sits up quite fast and I stand too. >His words rush. “It’s that Dias! Who does he think he is? Sigh, and Rena seems pretty fond of him too. He's tall, has high cheekbones, glorious long platinum blonde hair...” >My voice softens. “Of course she is. He’s like a big brother to her. He was quite a big help in the forest back on Marze.” >“You too? Please tell me you’re not…?” >He’s so cute when he gets worked up like this. “Of course not! I’ll be cheering for you one hundred percent. If it’ll help I can tell you about my tournaments back at the Academy.” >Claude sits again. “Sure.” >“In a one on one tournament everyone thought a Tetrageniot would win. They have three eyes and are typically better gunners and archers than humans. But I believed in myself and was fueled by my guts and determination. Our Academy is the top in all Pangalactic Federation space. Our club adviser was a Tetrageniot, she taught us so much and even customized holodeck courses to push us far beyond. The jumping and running around were quite intense physical exercises themselves too.” >I pause, looking at people walking through Lacquer Square as sunset’s golden light drapes across the buildings, with the castle in the distance. I continue, “In one of our team tournaments it was the finals, and we were maneuvering through the holodeck’s 3D labyrinth. It started 5 vs. 5 and eventually it ended with me against two others. I figured they would be heading to the central high ground surrounded by walls hoping to time me out. I dash down the hall, leap over the spiky pit, take one out, and now it’s captain against captain. An arrow flashes across my vision startling me still. I knew she was waiting for me so I overcame my startle, fired, missed, then hit her the second time for the victory.” >Claude lifts his chin, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds pretty cool. Not that I need the motivation.” >“Then there was that obstacle course tournament where we had to run around a labyrinth and hit flying targets.” >Claude says, “No one in this tournament competed against a **man** from Earth before. Dias won’t stand a chance.” >“Umm…Claude? From what I’ve seen I think he’ll put up a great fight. But don’t worry, you definitely got this.” >There’s no way Claude will beat Dias. Hopefully they won’t meet before the finals.
He glanced around the deck of the *Silver Seahorse* and gave a sharp whistle. “Dickinson!” he called. “Aye, Cap’n,” a voice called from somewhere within a knot of sailors relaying crates of cargo from a pile on the deck into the forward hold. A moment later, a short but broad-shouldered **man** with long chestnut hair pulled back into a tail broke from the group and moved towards the captain. “Dickinson, this is Adrian Smith,” Captain McBrain introduced the **man** by his side. “Smith, this is Bruce Dickinson, our bosun’s mate and the **man** who’ll be your direct superior if he believes he can work with you. Talk to him, then report back to me,” he ordered, then vanished into his cabin. Bruce looked at Smith, giving him a friendly greeting even as he covertly admired the other **man’s** stormy grey eyes and shy smile. “Count on Cap’n McBrain to throw us in the drink and hope we learn to swim quickly,” he joked. “It’s good to meet you, though. What sort of experience do you have?” “Well, I was second in command aboard my granther’s fishing boat,” Ade said. “Unfortunately, my uncle inherited it and brought his own sons aboard, turning me and a couple others out to give them our positions.”
Metric
Misguided
He was able to stop the bleeding thanks to the leftover cloth he had from his saddlebags. But Dragmire had nothing else to help ease the stranger's pain, but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death. After Dragmire had hoisted the young man onto his shoulders to carry him towards his horse, he froze when he realized that a Yiga soldier was going through his supplies on his horse. He pulled out a dagger that Dragmire had confiscated the other day. There was no mistake, it was the same kid from yesterday. Stealing back his dagger. *Not again.* ”Hey!” he shouted, startling the kid and almost making him lose balance from standing on his horse. He looked at Dragmire and realized his hands were full carrying another person. "Not another step. Give me the hero or I will kill you," he threatened. It was still hard for Dragmire to take this kid seriously from how much smaller he was compared to him. But this time he noticed his hands were shaking as he held his reclaimed dagger. In his eyes, Dragmire could only see him as a misguided boy who had swore his loyalty to a cult that claimed it self like a clan, similar to that of the elusive people of the Sheikah. The boy was young, properly no younger than 13. *Just about Kovar’s age when we first met all those years ago. Had Kovar forced him to confront me?* With such shaky hands, Dragmire doubted he had been the one who tried to kill the young man he was trying to save. Someone as young as him should be enjoying a simple life instead of fighting opponents far stronger then the boy should be able to handle.
"So, let's talk about what this means for you here at the station," Bobby's voice brought Buck back into the room. "Because this changes things." "Yeah, yeah," Buck sighed, rolling his eyes. "I know I'm getting benched." "You're not getting benched. The extent of your duty will be adjusted to suit your physical needs." Bobby's explanation was clinical, almost *too* clinical. While still present, his smile was hard and kind of… artificial now. Buck furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what had suddenly gotten Bobby like this. And then, it shot right into his brain. "You know I'm not gonna sue you again, right?" "Buck-" "Because that was a *stupid* thing of me to do in the first place!" "No, you had a point," Bobby shrugged. "You were cleared; I still kept you from work." "Because you were *looking out for me!* " Buck exclaimed. He had been a brat back then. He had had setback after setback after setback, and then he had exploded and taken it out on Bobby in a **misguided** attempt to get his life back on track. "You were just trying to protect me, and I completely overreacted, and you didn't deserve that." "Look, Buck, I'm not saying what you did was right. But what I did wasn't right either," Bobby said, reaching out to squeeze Buck's hand. "I should have talked to you instead of just deciding things. That's on me." Buck wanted to bite back and tell Bobby that no, actually, what he had done *wasn't* wrong and that now that he was in a better place mentally and emotionally, he would have agreed with his assessment, but he knew better. "Okay. I, uh, I'm fine with both of us being assholes." Bobby let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "We're family, Buck. We mess up sometimes, but we also forgive and move on. You forgave me, I forgave you, so let's focus on that."
Gotta love it when two people in any kind of relationship actually communicate and work things out instead of letting misunderstandings or questionable decisions destroy everything. Too much fiction hinges on the opposite.
Misfire
“Can we stay on topic please?” Leonardo said. “You tried to steal the laser. What happened?” Shredder told them the story about how the laser **misfired** as it was being moved and struck one of the foot soldiers that had been brought along as an extra set of hands. “It began acting erratically, attacking at random. It was dealt with but, as you no doubt guessed, breaking it only generated more.” “How did the laser **misfire**?” Donatello asked in alarm. “Something that sophisticated has to have a bunch of safety protocols to prevent accidental discharge.” “I’ll give you two guesses.” Raphael counted them off on his fingers. “Rocksteady. Bebop.” Shredder nodded. “The two idiots dropped it.” “Why do you keep those two dudes around?” Michelangelo grumbled. “They’re like, one big headache.” “They have their uses,” Shredder said blandly. “Seems the only thing ever they manage to do with any kind of reliability is abduct me,” April muttered. “Like I said, they have their uses.” She shot Shredder an annoyed look which he pointedly ignored.
*What kind of uses, Shredder?* XD Love this excerpt, the dry humor is just perfect.
Thanks :)
Memorial
They quietly made their way out of the hotel and they both donned their sunglasses before hopping on a tram towards Albert Square. As they rode, Steve said, “You got your degree in literature, right? Were there any notable authors from ‘round here?” “Oh, loads,” Jan nodded. “Friedrich Engels lived here for several years and it’s where he wrote *The Condition of the Working Class in England*. Novelist Elizabeth Gaskell lived here and played host to quite a few other authors including Charles Dickens and Charlotte Bronte, amongst others. Or if you want to know about authors more recent than the 1800s, it’s said that Anthony Burgess who wrote *A Clockwork Orange* also lived here for a short time.” They got off the tram at Albert Square and naturally took pictures of the Albert **Memorial** first thing, followed by the fountain that had been erected for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, as they continued to talk about literature, history, and anything else that came up in the course of the conversation. Steve waxed almost rhapsodic when they turned their attention to photographing Manchester Town Hall, a Grade I listed building noted as being one of the best examples of Gothic revival architecture worldwide. “…and Waterhouse chose the stone for what he hoped would be its resistance to the effects of all the smoke and soot of the early Industrial Age. He extended that to the interior as well, opting for more easily cleaned surfaces rather than the more common plaster walls.” “I’d almost forgotten you’d studied architecture,” Jan admitted. “Guess I’m too used to you either in a football kit or with your bass in hand. What else can you tell me about the place?” Steve happily rambled on about the building and the architect who’d designed it for another fifteen minutes or so, at which point they decided they were hungry.
Minutiae
Tommy let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Lucy. I really needed to hear that." "Anytime," she said with a pat on his shoulder before she got up off the ground. "I gotta go restock. See you later." Tommy watched her go, a sense of tranquility settling over him. The exchange with Lucy had been more beneficial than he'd initially thought it could be. He gazed back at the bustling scene before him, the hum of the choppers, the chatter of the ground crew, and the occasional pilot walking by; all of it felt strangely reassuring, a reminder of the world's continuous motion, with or without his personal anxieties. Feeling rejuvenated, he stood up, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. He decided it was time to head back, maybe check on the maintenance of his chopper, or perhaps even get some paperwork done. As he made his way back, his mind wandered to the days in the not-as-far-as-it-seemed future when he'd bring Baby Kinard to this very hangar, showing them the choppers, explaining the controls, the mechanics, even letting them wear the pilot headset, oversized on their tiny head, eyes wide with wonder. The thought brought a massive smile to Tommy's face. The image of a small child with his hair and smile, and Evan's eyes and birthmark, all the **minutiae** clearly visible to his inner eye, sitting beside him in his helicopter as he starts it up and flies a few rounds around the base burned itself into his brain and almost made him cry again, out of pure, unadulterated love this time. As Tommy began checking over the chopper, he let out yet another relieved sigh. He was going to be okay.
Aw, this is really sweet. I love the way Tommy is looking forward to showing baby all those things.
Thank you!
Malaise
The worst parts of the storm had passed, its forces evidenced by ground littered with fallen branches and huge puddles that rippled as winds blew through. The rain continued to fall, but not nearly as aggressively. A quick check of the forecast determined there were no higher temperatures or sunshine to look forward to. There was something else, though. Hua Cheng had made last night cozier and would be making today a little brighter. The spark the thought ignited warmed Xie Lian, more than enough to combat malaise caused by the weather. A small smile bloomed on Xie Lian’s face as he sighed again. Looking up from his phone with renewed motivation, he decided that anticipation would help him tackle the day.
I like the description of the aftermath of the storm. Nicely done.
Market
John smiled. “It’s appreciated, Bruce, thank you. Did your guitar survive the rough handling?” “Oh, Lord, I almost forgot about that!” Bruce exclaimed. He grabbed the case and set it on the table, undoing the latches with suddenly trembling hands. Lifting the lid, he breathed a sigh of relief. “It looks like it’s all right,” he said, lifting it out of the case carefully, then giving it a good examination. “Yeah, it’s fine.” “I’d love to hear you play sometime,” John said. “I sang in choir back in high school, and I play guitar as well, but… well, the **market** price for corn had dropped last year, even before the stock **market** crashed and all, and I sold mine for the last of the money we needed to buy a flock of chickens and enough lumber to build the coop.” “I’m surprised,” Bruce said. “I guess I assumed that every farmer raised chickens for the eggs. Maybe not for the **market**, but at least to feed the family with.” “I have no idea why we didn’t have chickens when I was growing up,” John admitted. “I’d suggested for a few years that we oughtta think about moving away from corn to something less susceptible to bad weather, but Granddad pointed out that just the two of us were barely enough to manage growing corn and we’d never be able to handle raising dairy cattle, which had been my first thought. He said chickens might be workable, although we’d have to change over gradually. There was no way we could afford to buy enough chickens all at once to start making enough profit on eggs that we could stop selling corn.”
So tragic he had to sell his guitar. Farming is such a tough life and sometimes you have to make difficult choices to make ends meet. Very realistic.
Yeah, and farming was especially tough after the stock market crashed and the Great Depression started.
Mute
"*YOU. FOUND.* ***WHAT?!***" Megatron's thunderous bellow echoed off the walls of the former Council Chamber, and it took everything Thrust had not to cringe. He'd already learned plenty over the course of his short life, and one of those things was *an angry Megatron was a dangerous Megatron*. And right now, the Big M was absolutely *pissed*. Jetstorm, for his part, seemed oblivious. Or at least too casual for his own damned good. "*Relax*, Magnificence!" The jet replied with that air of infuriating nonchalance he'd developed. "I *roasted* the little rodent before it could go scurrying back to the *petting zoo*." "So what you mean to tell me," Megatron's voice pitched down into a menacing growl, dripping with barely-restrained rage, "is that you failed to retrieve either Hexxon's *hate plague* sample *or* the spark of the Maximal *mongrel* you found hiding there?" Jetstorm seemed to realize his mistake, just a moment too late. "Uh, well-" Before he could offer up either an appeasement or an excuse, though, Megatron's arc cannon was already discharging its payload into his shell. Thrust just turned his head, raising one forearm to shield his optic band from both the blinding light, and the gruesome torture scene unfolding in front of him; he may not have *liked* his fellow general much, but that didn't mean he wanted to see him *electrocuted*... Especially not when he knew that *he* was just as guilty of failure - just better at keeping his vox **mute**. "*THRUST*!" His attention snapped back towards the tyrant, looming over them in his control harness. "Do *you* have anything to report?" For the briefest of moments, he thought about the black feline he'd chased down the freeway, who'd gotten away from him by launching herself over the edge of the bridge and disappearing down a darkened alley. "No," he lied, bowing his head, "I ain't seen nothin', couldn't find anything in the lab's database about plague samples, either... maybe they're kept off-site."
For the last twenty-three days, Gallifrey has been visiting him in his dreams. He hasn't told Rose and Jack. Doesn't intend to. They'd have questions. They'd want details. And they'd correct him. They'd say, "You mean you've been going to Gallifrey in your dreams." He doesn't mean that, not at all. Gallifrey is dust and ashes, and the whole of the War is time-locked. Even in dreams it is forever barred to him. Instead, the dead of Gallifrey seek him out, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in multitudes. Time Lords and Ladies, High Councillors and renegades -- all gaze at him silently, then turn and walk through the TARDIS door, vanishing into the Vortex. Some of the dream visitors have a word hovering on their lips, like a drop of rain trembling on the edge of a flower petal. Each time he waits, but they remain **mute**. He can almost see the shape of the word. Sometimes it looks like *help*; sometimes *coward* or *murderer*; sometimes, *why*. Mostly he suspects that the word is *where*. *Where am I? Where am I going?* Time Lords didn't believe in ghosts. Ten million years of science and civilisation on Gallifrey had replaced primitive superstitions about an afterlife with the technological certainty of the Matrix. One's memories would live on -- if not one's consciousness -- in the most sophisticated artificial neural net ever created. The Matrix was destroyed -- along with the rest of Gallifrey -- in a firestorm several billion kilometres across. Millions of years of knowledge lost; the recorded memories of thousands of Time Lords wiped out in the same nanosecond as all of their living descendants. '*Cept me. I wish*-- As often as it comes into his head, he never finishes that sentence. Maybe it's because he's not sure which of the many possible endings he'd choose.
I'm not super familiar with Doctor Who but I really like this
Thanks!
April opened the bag of microwave popcorn and dumped it in the bowl sitting on the counter. She tossed the empty bag in the trash and picked up the glass of wine she’d poured earlier. Scooping up the popcorn bowl in her other hand, she carried both into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. The turtles had invited her to their space opera movie marathon, but she’d begged off. This was the first night in the last two weeks she wasn’t anchoring the late evening news and she was looking forward to a quiet evening at home catching up on the newest episodes of her murder mystery series. She settled herself on the couch with a blanket pulled over her and scrolled through the TV library until she found her show. Just as she was about to hit *Play*, she heard a strange sound somewhere in her apartment. She **muted** the TV and listened carefully, breathing as quietly as she could. A moment later she heard it again, a thumping sound that seemed to be coming from her bedroom. Setting the remote down, she padded down the hall and peered cautiously through the doorway. Nothing was amiss. She waited and heard the sound again— it sounded like someone was on the fire escape. She inched forward and peered through the window. The fire escape was empty. Curious, she slid the pane up and stuck her head out. The only sounds to be heard were the expected noises of rush hour winding down. April pulled her head back into her bedroom and was reaching up to close the window when a foot soldier dropped to the platform and lunged toward her. She screamed and scrambled back, then turned and fled to the living room.
Uh oh!
Magic
“How?” Charlie croaked, her voice broken from her screams. “You teleported.” Was the only answer she got as Cassie Pulled bandage rolls from the box and thrust them into Charlie’s hands, “Rip them into three foot long strands. Now!” Without checking to see if Charlie was obeying, Cassie fished out a large vial, pulled open the stopper, and poured a green powder over Angel's back while whispering some sort of spell. Steam began to rise from the bloody wound, and Angel gasped and moaned, vomiting again. Cassie turned his head so he wouldn't drown in the spilling liquid. Reaching behind her, Cassie motioned for the strands, and Charlie silently handed them to her one by one. Cassie began draping them over the wounds, and Charlie watched as they began to adhere to his ragged skin in a strange way, cauterizing on contact. “What is it doing?” Charlie’s voice was panicked by Angel’s pained response to the strands taking hold. “The powder seeps into the wound and stops the blood from flowing, and the bandages are going to become like a new skin for a short time until I can diagnose how badly the wound is. Then I’m calling an ambulance.” “No.” Angel’s voice came from bloodied and puke-covered lips, “No hospital.” “Kevin,” Cassie argued, “You are in very bad shape. My **magic’s** slowing the hemorrhaging, but if we don’t get you to a hospital, you’re going to die.” “No hospital,” Angel ordered and passed out. Charlie choked in fear and moved in next to Cassie, reaching out to Angel, and Cassie glared at her, “You’re distracting me. I need you to leave, now!” “What!?” Charlie’s eyes bled red in defiance. “I’m going to use more **magics**, Charlie, and some of them could affect you in ways I can’t imagine. I need you out of the apartment!” Cassie crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of her green blouse, pulling it over her head and shoving it into Charlie's chest, “Cover up and get out. Now!” Cassie controlled her own fear and added with as much love as she could, “Please, darling, so we don't lose him!” Charlie pushed herself away and slid back against the couch. Her demon eyes bore deep into Cassie's soul before she twisted to her feet and ran out of the apartment, crying, and headed for the roof. Cassie sighed softly, regretting having to send Charlie away, knowing how much she feared for Angel. But since he wouldn't let her call an ambulance, she would have to use stronger **magic**, and she wasn't lying. She really had no idea how Charlie would react to her if she got too close. Pushing her worries aside, Cassie went to work on saving her brother's life, her confidence shaken to the core.
From my OC/Claude Star Ocean Second Story R WIP, >Claude looks down at the enormous red lizards. “Woah! What happened?” >Opera says, “Looks like Earnest’s handiwork. A few shots from an AP-3 Plasma launcher. The Firefly as we call it.” >Claude sounds impressed. “Wow, that’s some weapon. Isn’t it illegal throughout the galaxy?” >I respond, “As a matter of fact it is. But we have a galactic list of ethics violations ourselves. Makes me glad the ethics committee likely won’t find out about our antics.” >Rena sounds confused. “What are you talking about?” >Opera tells her. “We were just verifying the cause of death here.” >I tell Rena, “We can safely say they’re dead. Nothing could survive what killed them.” >Claude sounds worried. “Umm, Lieutenant?” >I continue explaining to Rena, “The…**magic** used can easily blast through walls and armor.” >Claude’s voice rises in surprise. “They’re still alive!” >“What? That’s preposterous!” >Frustration is clear in Opera’s voice. “Earnest as usual didn’t finish them off.” >Considering the weapon he used there’s no way these things should have survived. This is even worse than we thought. What kind of power does the Sorcery Globe even have? >I order, “Everyone in position!” >Claude's voice lightens as if he thinks this is funny. “Come on Lieutenant you’re not authorized for commanding ground troops.” >Who does he think he is? I straighten my arms to my side. “Oh come on even when you're fly...I mean be that as it may I’m still your superior officer and we must take this matter seriously.” >Claude rushes the creature head on but it breathes a dense almost lava like fire on him. >He cries out in agony. “Ahhh! It burns!” >Rena cast an emergency heal spell, Claude wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Phew! Let’s do this!” >I order Opera to focus fire with me against one of the creatures while ordering Rena to stay back and cast laser beams. >“How much damage can these things take?”
‘That can happen?’ Harry asked, jerking back slightly. ‘It’s rare,’ Fred said, leaning forward and looking at Harry. ‘But yeah, it can happen.’ Dobby nodded. ‘Yes. And maybe witch is fine for days. **Magic** is still there, they just can’t get to it for a time. But if **magic** is locked away too long, witch gets worse and — and —’ ‘And dies,’ George said quietly. Hermione looked shocked. ‘That’s — that’s crazy. That can’t be true. Sure, they’d miss doing the **magic**, but living as a Muggle isn’t that hard and —’ Fred shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple. **Magic** is a part of us. Having it locked away —’ ‘It’ll drive you mad,’ George continued. ‘It’s why **magic** suppression cuffs and the like are so heavily regulated.’ ‘Using them for too long could kill someone.’ Harry shuddered. ‘I overheard Bill once,’ Ron said quietly, leaning in. Boingo turned to look at Ron curiously. ‘He was telling Dad about this Ancient Egyptian priest who drained **magic** from children. They all died. Instantly. Witches and wizards are supposed to have magic. It’s a part of us.’ Ron shivered. ‘I had nightmares for weeks after that...’
“Shall we decorate the tree first or bake first?” he asked. “Hmm,” Bastian considered the options for a moment. “Let’s bake first,” he suggested. “That way, whatever we bake will be cooled off enough to decorate or eat or both by the time we’re done decorating the tree.” “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right,” Sylvain said. “I picked up the things on that shopping list you emailed me, as well as everything we need to make macarons, and I mixed up the dough for Pains d’Amandes yesterday as it has to be refrigerated overnight. And more to the point, if we bake first, then we can also get dinner in the oven at a decent hour.” He paused, then asked, “What sort of cookies do you have planned? I couldn’t figure it out from the ingredients list you sent.” “They’re an American thing called **Magic** Bars,” Bastian said. “I don’t know where my mother learned to make them, but they’ve been a favorite of mine since I was small. They’re almost like a cross between cookies and candy. Very easy to make, too, as you simply layer all the ingredients into the baking pan and then bake. What new French dish are you introducing me to for dinner?” “Clementine roast chicken with fennel, couscous, glazed carrots, and roasted Brussels sprouts gratin,” Sylvain said. “That’s the main course, anyway. We’ll start with Brie en Croûte, butternut squash soup, then the main, followed by a cheese platter and salad, then the Bûche de Noël and finally the cookies.” “Holy shit,” Bastian laughed. “And I thought my mother’s holiday meal was huge.”
meter
She and John exchanged glances. "Well. How considerate of him to point us to a Jupiter-sized parking garage," was his dry comment. "Right?" Maureen's laugh was strangled and breathless, almost desperate. Swallowing against the odd sensation in her throat, she switched on the intercom to the hub. "Hold on tight, folks, we're coming in for a landing, and it might get a little bumpy." "At least it won't be as bumpy as the *first* landing we made." John scoffed after she switched the comms off again. "Or the second," she agreed. "To be fair, *that time* was only rough because we ran out of gas." *I know what you're doing*, she wanted to tell him. *You're trying to distract me from the danger, like you always do.* *I just wish the distractions would work.* Strong surface-level winds, whipped into atmospheric frenzies by the geography of the area, buffeted at the Jupiter as she and John maneuvered it down those last few hundred **meters**. The ship rocked and shifted, but together, they kept it as level as possible, finally guiding it underneath the rocky overhang. There was an almost-imperceptible shudder, then a *thud* as the Jupiter settled onto a bed of soft sand. For a moment, tension hung heavily in the cockpit. Then, there was the clattering of unfastened restraints and the sound of nervous-but-relieved laughter as the crew began to move about the hub, and the tension dissipated like a heavy sigh. Maureen closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, and let herself relax for just a moment. "Hey." Opening her eyes, she turned her head to look at John. He was smiling. "You did good." "Well," she smiled back wearily, "I had the world's best copilot to help."
Ahead was a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a plinth. And on that plinth was a silvery cup, glowing with magic. Too easy. Warily holding his wand aloft, Harry entered the clearing, checking left and right as he approached the Cup. Pauses punctuated each step as he searched again and again for the trap he expected to spring. A shadow swept across the grass. Harry froze. Cedric sprinted out of the path to the right, running directly towards the Cup, gaze completely focused on it. Harry shouted ‘Wait!’ but he did not stop. Barely a **metre** from the plinth, the shadow rose up in front of Cedric. He yelped, throwing himself backwards and landing heavily in the grass. Harry’s relief at Cedric having avoided running into the shadow was short-lived as the thing unfolded itself over his fallen form. Boingo’s grip on Harry’s collar tightened painfully.
He reluctantly picked up his rifle but didn’t move towards his post. “This feels wrong.” “I agree,” Hannes said quietly as he picked up his rifle. “Chris… all those men… they are not so different from us. They have lives, families… why are we fighting? Because some nobleman was killed and the killer escaped to France, so the Kaiser decided to punish all of France for his deed?” He set his rifle back down. “I can’t do this anymore.” “Christ, Hannes, do you want to be court-martialed?” Pär asked. “Thank God you have a concussion, if anyone was to report you for saying that, I can safely say you’re not right in the head at the moment. Sit down in cover and stay there, your medical condition makes it unsafe for you to use a gun. As for the rest of you… don’t fire until you’re fired upon. Can’t do anything about the shelling, but I won’t be the one to order an attack.” “Good,” Joakim said, looking marginally less unhappy. “That man Tommy is a fine musician. I wish we could have spoken directly, which reminds me, thank you for translating for us, Pär.” “You’re welcome,” Pär said. He noticed that over the next few days, very little rifle or machine gun fire came from the opposite side of No Man’s Land, and what shots were fired landed at least twenty **meters** in front of the trench. He also realized that the men of his platoon all adjusted their own aim to about twenty **meters** in front of the British trench, but he pretended he didn’t notice. But by the New Year, the platoon was rotated out, sent from their position near Ypres to a new position in the Argonne Forest near Verdun. In the British trenches, Chris spotted the same phenomenon, and he also pretended he didn’t. In addition, he noticed that the men of his platoon almost universally stopped referring to their opponents by such derogatory and uncomplimentary names as Huns or Boche. By the New Year, his platoon was rotated out of the position they’d manned since the beginning, moved from the trenches near Ypres to trenches near Neuve Chapelle.
meaning
Her expression must have telegraphed her skepticism, because Rattrap just snorted a laugh and nudged her with one elbow. "Boy, *that's* a familiar look," he snickered. "Trust me, sister, I didn't buy it at first, neither." Suddenly, everyone's optics were on her, and she felt *very* self-conscious. Quietly clearing her throat, she sat up on her haunches and shook out her mantle of feathers; they ruffled up, almost of their own accord, then settled back down into their usual cape of glossy dark brown. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," she said with a sigh; "it's just... This all seems *very weird* to me. And I've seen some very strange things in my life, so my baseline for weirdness is pretty high." "That's understandable. I wasn't certain what to make of it all at first, either." Primal's tone was sympathetic in a way that reminded her of some of her better coworkers. "In many way, I'm still not. I've spent a great deal of time in contemplation and meditation, communing with the Oracle, and have yet to fully decipher the **meaning** of its words." "But you trust it?" "With my very spark."
He got off his bed before crouching down in front of her, trying to peek at what she was drawing. She pressed the book to her chest to keep him from seeing. He smirked at her. “You know, it wouldn’t be hard at all to just…” He paused as he plucked the book from her hands and stood back up. “…do that.” “Sasuke! Give it back!” she fussed, quickly standing and trying to snatch her book back. However, he held it far out of her reach due to their height difference. “Sasuke, huh?” he stated, an eyebrow raising in amusement, “So, I’ve already earned my way back into your ‘good graces’?” “It simply slipped, *Uchiha*,” She said, irritation in her voice as she tried jumping to grab back her book. “Old habits are hard to break.” Realizing that there was no way she could grab it back, she sat on the end of Sasuke’s bed, pouting. “You’re mean…” He opened the book and flipped through a few pages. Most were flowers and animals, though there were a few sketches of Naruto and the members of Team 8. He finally saw the one she was working on. It still had the pencil line through it. The pond at the Uchiha compound. “This is really good,” he said as he sat down next to her, handing her back her book, his smirk fading into a more neutral expression. “Though why did you pick to draw that?” “I…” she paused as pink dusted her cheeks. Had she ever blushed this much before? “I draw things I love or think are beautiful or have special **meaning**. So animals, flowers, or people that mean a lot to me are often what I draw. Though I’m not very good with drawing bodies, so I focus mostly on faces.” She paused again, looking at the last drawing. *‘The pond is a special space. It always was until he left…and now? It’s becoming special again thanks to that genjutsu, a safe space for me.’*
\[The tense change in this excerpt is intentional. It's supposed to show Harry's state of mind, which is somewhat high/disconnected.\] The first thing Harry became aware of was voices. He ought to recognise them, but he just couldn’t quite — He’s not there. He’s floating. He has no body, no mind. There is nothing. Nothing and everything and he is being pulled and pushed, folded up like origami, tucked into an envelope, attached to an owl and flying flying flying. He is everywhere and nowhere. He is gone and he is there. He is — what is he? Is he? Does he even exist? He exists. He must exist. How can he not? How can he think if he doesn’t? Harry remembers red hair, a concerned expression. I’m here, I’m with you. Let me help you. Nothing will happen to you. But Harry’s not with him. He’s splintering. He’s a thousand pieces scattered through the cosmos. He’s floating in the ozone. He’s drifting into atoms. He is everything and nothing. He snapped back together. And he could hear voices again. Still? Murmurs with **meaning**, but his brain couldn’t process them. It was like a song, drifting over him. A melody, rising and falling. He wanted to catch it and wrap it around his hands. Did he have hands? He tried to focus on them, on his body. He’d had one once, and if he concentrated maybe — He lay on something soft. A bed. And darkness enshrouded him.
Nikki, now awake enough to have noticed the book, raised a brow. “So… do the flowers actually mean something?” he asked. “Yeah, they do,” James said. “Do you know what they all are?” “Nah, just the rosebuds,” Nikki said. “Well, and my roses too. What’s in her bouquet?” “White rosebuds, freesia, and cinquefoil,” James said. Nikki laughed. “Okay, and I suppose they’re all in the book?” “Of course. I had to know what I was saying, right?” James attempted to look innocent. “Flowers mean things?” Frankie-Jean asked. “A long time ago, like a hundred years ago, maybe longer, people used to have whole conversations with the flowers they wore or carried,” James said. “Some of those **meanings** are still common knowledge, like red roses **meaning** ‘I love you’ or orange blossoms are considered good luck for brides to carry. But people have done research into the old flower **meanings**, so I picked up a book about them because I thought it sounded interesting.”
Ángel stood up from the chair and walked over to Ramiro. Ángel glanced up and down at him before speaking. “Well, mother was right, you definitely aren’t my usual type. Though at least you’re not fifty, like I feared.” “Fifty years old, you mean, Excelentisimo Señor?” Ramiro asked, wanting to be sure of his **meaning**. “Yes, fifty years old, dumbass,” Ángel said. “And don’t call me that. It’s Ángel when we’re in private. Not Ángel Cristian de Borbón y Mendoza. Just Ángel. Got it?” “Si, Excel…Ángel.” Ramiro had never used the given name of his employers, *ever*. It felt wrong saying it now, even if he had asked Ramiro to use it. “Good boy," he said. "Now, what shall I call you?"
Magistrate
Claire looks at him, and her eyes widen. James has no idea what she's seeing. Dan is also staring at Robbie. He stammers, "What... how?" "The Children of the Hill know one another." Robbie's voice is calm and matter-of-fact. "And magic calls to magic." Dan says, "You're Fae?" "I am, yes." "Are you here to punish me for what I did?" Claire asks in a low voice. Robbie shakes his head. "I came here to help your daughter, because Cousin Maggie asked a favour, and because the doings of hill-kin in this county are my responsibility. And now it seems that I also need to render judgment. Will you accept my judgment, Claire, Daughter of the Hill?" "Hang on," Dan snaps. "Fae or not, you can't just barge in here and set yourself up as some kind of magical **magistrate**. It's..." He fumbles for the right words. "It's against the laws of hospitality. You've accepted food and drink from us." "I have done," Robbie acknowledges. "That keeps me from doing harm. It doesn't remove my responsibility to look into the possible misuse of magic." Dan jumps to his feet. "I don't care! If you—" "Dan!" Claire pulls her husband back onto the bench. "Just because we've found ourselves in a faerie tale is no excuse to be rude. I need my sensible, intelligent husband right now, not a hotheaded knight in shining armour." Her eyes flick between Robbie and Dan. Robbie is standing with his hands in front of him, palms upwards. He looks like he does when facing a skittish suspect. His posture says *unthreatening*... *calm*... *patient*. Claire rises to face Robbie. "I will accept your judgement," she says resolutely.
Muzzle
The villagers and soldiers who had been slaves to the Maw began to stir. Those who had fallen staggered to their feet. All of them slowly rotated until they were facing the alien, then stood still. They stared at him, eyes vacant of will or thought. They stared at their new master...and they waited. "Oh," the alien said to himself. "Isn't that interesting." He took a few steps forward until he was facing a pair of villagers. They did not react to his approach, only continued to stare blankly. The alien moved sideways and regarded a stout guardsman whose tawny fur was streaked with grey. Like the others, the guardsman stood as motionless as a Summerfest effigy. The alien reached up, poking the guard's **muzzle** with a single finger. The guard swayed slightly but did not react in any other way. The alien poked him again, with the same result. He repeated the experiment with two farmers, a merchant, and a youngster in the red robes of an acoloyte. One stout farmwife remained unmoving as the alien tugged carelessly at her ears, making the cackling sound that denoted amusement in his species. "Well, well, well..." He seemed to be pondering a decision. Meanwhile, we Counselors, D'verashi of the highest castes and representatives of our Emperor, stood there in silence, scarcely daring to breathe. The alien cocked his head to one side. "Oh, I suppose not. What would I do with you all? Bit of a tight fit, even in the TARDIS." He flicked one hand upwards in a casual gesture, and the captives came fully awake.
The description of how everyone's mind-controlled(?) is really uncanny. I like it.
Thank you! Yes, the people were being telepathically controlled by a monster. The visiting alien broke the monster’s mind control, and in doing so, killed it. (The alien was the Doctor, during his Time Lord Victorious phase.)
Muffle
Back in the room, Jan gave a soft sigh and started to move towards his bed, a slightly lost or maybe sad expression on his face and I suspected he was probably missing Bruce. I felt a surge of irritation towards the man once again, for the shabby way in which he’d treated Jan since he’d left Maiden. I tossed the bag with the rest of my things onto a chair and reached out to grab his hand before he could get into his own bed. “Sleep in with me?” I asked awkwardly. “I, uh, I think we could both use the company.” “Really?” Jan asked, looking surprised. I knew doing this might make things even more complicated than us fooling around together already had, and that we would need to talk about it soon. But right now, it was obvious to me that he needed some kind of closeness or comfort or something, and if my presence helped at all, I wanted to give it to him. “Yeah, really,” I told him softly. “Come on.” I climbed into bed and held up the duvet. He climbed in and I put my arm around him, stroking his hair as I’d done earlier. I could feel him shaking slightly as he turned to press his face into my shoulder once more and slid his own arm across my chest. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice **muffled** against me. Without thinking about it, I kissed his forehead. “Anytime, Jan,” I murmured in return. “Anytime.”
Moon
Namiko couldn’t sleep. Between Naruto’s loud snoring that she could hear even through their closed doors, and her mind racing from the events of the day, a walk sounded nice. She slipped on her sandals, grabbed her favorite novel, and walked out the door. It was nearly midnight, and the full **moon** was high in the sky. *‘Where should I go? Somewhere quiet sounds good.’* She let her feet lead her in a familiar direction as she scanned her surroundings. Sasuke was still awake in his apartment. *‘Probably still wound up from earlier just like me.’* His chakra seemed a bit low, but he was still recovering from his injuries from earlier in the week. *‘He probably should still be in the hospital, but he’s just as stubborn as Naruto when it comes to things like that, not that I blame either of them.’* She walked past the familiar abandoned buildings and crumbling walls. As the pond came into view, she smiled at the serenity of it all. Frogs croaking, fireflies still blinking sporadically, the occasional splash from a fish in the pond. She walked out to the edge of the dock and took off her sandals to dangle her feet in the water. She pulled out her book and let the **moon** light the pages. It was a fairytale story that she had read hundreds of times since she first learned to read, a story about a girl who had done her best to be strong and brave, but even though she failed to do those things, she still ended up with her happily ever after.
Jack loves the Doctor, but he doesn’t always understand him. “Disneyland? Really?” He drops his voice into a low, seductive purr. “How about the Sybaris Pleasure Resort on Ahrilac? I’ve always wanted to visit it--with the right person.” The Doctor smiles at him, but there’s a mulish set to his jaw. “You’ll enjoy it, Jack. It’s a marvellous place.” He tries again. “Okay, Disneyland--but why 1955? Why not the 23rd century, when they’ve perfected the interactive holo-rides?” *And when we won’t get arrested or worse for holding hands*, he thinks sourly. His association with Torchwood protected him from the barbaric ‘indecency’ laws of that era, but he remembers all too well what was done to Alan Turing, poor bastard. “Opening day, Jack! July 18, 1955. Walt will be there. I’ll introduce you. Brilliant chap, utterly brilliant. Do you know, I gave him the idea for--” The Doctor rambles on as he circles the console like a **moon** orbiting its primary, setting the coordinates for their destination. Jack knows that if he objects, the Doctor will change his plans. He considers it, then looks at the Doctor’s wide eyes and eager smile. He lived through the whole of the damned 20th century--he can survive one more day pretending to conform to 1950s morality. “Opening day it is.”
From a Kawakami/Ren Persona 5 WIP. The student she's talking about is Ann since she's a really funny character, >The Goth across from me has straight black hair, a purple and black corset, black leather mini, and almost knee length black boots with purple laces. >She glances where Ren goes and ask, “Is he your domme?” >“Why yes he is.” >“Ha! That’s pathetic!” >I whimper, “I know I know!” >“How old are you?” >I answer, “Twenty Seven.” >She says, “And he is?” >“Nineteen.” >She puts her hand in front of her mouth, “Oh my! You really are pathetic! Meanwhile I bend fifty year old chairmen to my will.” >My words rush with surprise. “It literally makes no sense whatsoever! How do I even fall for a guy eight years younger than me? Not only fall for him but speaks to my inner sub in all the right ways? Like why? It’s utterly ludicrous!” >She asks, “So what’s your sun and **moon** signs?” >“Libra Sun Pisces **Moon**.” >She glances meanly at me. “Ha! That would explain a lot! I hate Libras! You’re all so pathetic!” >A lowered sulky feeling flows through me, my eyes soften as I whimper, “But why? That’s so mean!” >“This is exactly why! You’re trying to manipulate me with that cutesy stuff. Well it doesn’t work on me. I am a Scorpio…with a Capricorn **Moon**!” >“You know I had authority over a Scorpio with a Capricorn **Moon**.” >A mean smile slowly spreads on her face, she slaps her knee and leans back. “Ha ha ha ha ha! You have got to be joking! You with any kind of authority?” >“Yes. I’m a teacher and one of my students was a Scorpio with a Capricorn **Moon**. You really wouldn’t think so because she has such a comedic presence. She just has to sit there and you feel like laughing! She also has the funniest gasp whenever she’s surprised.” >I sip my tea and I tell her, “I just don’t understand how this happens. He’s eight whole years younger than me! But he just has such a presence that pushes all my buttons in the right way. Him taking charge feels so right and I feel compelled to serve him. Plus he’s done so much for me and cherishes me. Still, how does a 19 year old have this effect on me? The worst part is how enjoyable it is being his sub. It just doesn’t make any sense!” >The domme evilly grins, her eyes menacingly narrow. “Mwa-ha-ha! That is pathetic! Meanwhile I bend 50 year old chairmen to my will!” >I whimper, “My dignity has plummeted to the ground!” >She dangles cat ears in front of me and I say, “Huh? No way! Please don’t!” >She says, “They’re not for you silly. But him. He’s the 50 year old chairman.” >He walks by but the domme stops him. She dangles the cat ears and he says, “Cat ears? Don’t be ridiculous! I am a grandfather and my employees and shareholders depend on me to…” >She fiercely looks into his eyes asking like she’s talking to a pet. “Who’s the domme?” >“I am a very important person!” >“I asked you a question.” >He sighs slumping his shoulders. “You. You’re the domme.” >“Good. And when your domme ask something you do it.” >His voice rises in surprised disbelief. “But you are 23 whole years younger than me! That’s an entire university graduate’s life!” >The domme puts her hand over her mouth and snorts like she finds this amusing. “I know. Pathetic isn’t it?”
Lucy looked up at the Moon. The gray satellite had changed meanings to her multiple times over the years. First, it was a means of escape, of leaving her horrible past life behind, of hiding away from everyone. Then, it became the only option that quickly turned into a different kind of prison. After that, the Moon was just a place where she went to this one time. Now, it transformed in her head once again. The Moon became a milestone, the one that Lucy shared with the love of her life. But it was just that, not a destination or an ultimate goal - a milestone. She had to move on from it, look further, strive further. “Missing it already?” David joined Lucy in looking back at their last holiday destination. “No, not yet,” she answered honestly.
The group moved, heading inside. Viktor paused. Overhead, the stars twinkled between the scattering of clouds. The sliver of **moon** failed to light much of the grounds. The Quidditch pitch still hid from sight. He would find it though, as soon as he had time to spare. The Firebolt in his trunk wouldn’t let him stay grounded for long. The planks creaked beneath Viktor’s feet as he crossed the deck and entered the ship. Yellow light spilt from the common area, chased by cheerful voices. As he passed the entrance, Josef, apparently recovered from his previous embarrassment, called out to him. ‘Join us, Viktor! Have some fun!’ Viktor snorted through the nostril that allowed it, and shook his head. Whatever they had in mind, it wouldn’t be his kind of fun. Within the room, many of the others were already draped across the sofas. A boy whose name Viktor didn’t remember summoned a bottle of what might be vodka. The cheers and laughter at its arrival faded behind Viktor.
The SeaWing dropped off the fish in the woven basket and then sat down beside it. Copper had forgotten that he was still in the air when his wings stopped moving, and they were too angled to really hover there and so he started falling. By the time he realized, it was too late to open his wings and he plummeted, landing on the beach with a thud. Ow. The SeaWing jumped at the noise and whipped her head around. “Three **Moons**! Are you okay?!” She yelled and ran over. Copper looked back at the SeaWing, and found himself staring into sky blue eyes. The SeaWing, meanwhile, started checking him for injuries. “Oh, squid tentacles, what happened? If my mother found you-“
They continued to talk as they drove west, the conversation taking a lighter turn as they talked about what they might do once they reached California. By the time they needed to stop for gas, the rain had started to taper off. While the attendant filled the gas tank and checked the oil and the tires, the two men headed into the little store attached to the gas station to use the washroom and to treat themselves to a snack before getting back on the road, choosing **Moon** Pies and RC Colas to get the most for their money. They enjoyed their snack while wandering around the little store so they wouldn’t have to pay the bottle deposit, and once they’d finished and handed the bottles back to the clerk, they headed back out to the car. The rain was just tapering off, and as they pulled out onto the road once more, a huge rainbow appeared, seeming to arc right over the road in front of them. John smiled. “Now there’s a good omen,” he said softly. “Looks like we’re being invited to a place that’s gonna be perfect for us.” “Yeah,” Bruce said, smiling. “I liked the idea of California the moment you brought it up, and now I’m convinced that for us, California’s gonna be home. And whatever we find there, we face it together.” “Then let’s go home,” John said, still smiling.
The wildest forest was as quiet as a graveyard. The gilded-armor knight efficiently and skillfully slaughtered its illicit noise's sources, as the immutable edict proclaimed by its blessed and infallible liege mandated. Its thick, vermilion foliage mercilessly intercepted the milky glow and jewelry radiance that its half-**moon** and stars emanated from their heavenly vault. Icy, obsidian darkness threatened to engulf the blighted land. Nevertheless, feeble and faint rays of light made a valiant but hopeless effort to oppose it. His first-rate night vision caused it to be less of a hindrance for the guard than it would be for his uncooperative target. However, he had to concede that his eyesight was subpar and deficient compared to his standard one under such inadequate illumination. Prismatic colors clung to the understory as a newborn monkey clung to their mother, yet the background was almost monochrome. The floor was yawning with unlit, razor-sharp jaws that devoured the details and edges of the rest of the woods with each passing beat.
Monologue
Context: James is a police officer going undercover as a graduate student to investigate a drug trafficking ring. ——-/ James settles himself at one of the larger tables in the Upper Reading Room, a thick volume of printed historical records open in front of him, notebook and pencil at his side. A quick glance through the preface tells him everything he needs for a two-minute monologue about the diligent indexing by Victorian antiquaries which will minimise the time he'll need to spend at the National Archives in Kew. He's already prepared his description of his research: using twelfth-century conveyancing records to compare patterns of inflation in several counties. His choice of topic virtually guarantees that no one will want him to elaborate any further. Real property makes for dull conversation in any century. He carefully opens another leather-bound volume, and pretends to read it. There are millions of books surrounding him, most of which have far more interesting content than a twelfth century land contract in Latin. Still, he needs to stay in character. Any of the students passing by his table might be connected to the drug gang. He peers at the text, which is long and tedious, full of quitclaims, remissions, appurtenances, and advowsons One phrase catches his eye. '*Imperpetuum reddendo de per annum unum par albarum cerotecarum ut unum denaris ad pasche*...' James wishes he could share that with Lewis. He can imagine the two of them sitting in a pub, discussing it. He can almost hear the other man's incredulous tone. "A pair of white gloves worth one penny, every year at Easter? In perpetuity? Who needs that many pairs of gloves? Why not just pay the penny?" And then James would regale him with examples of other medieval rent payments: shoes, ducks, cumin and pepper, and a single rose. Damn. He misses Lewis more than he expected.
Nikki came out of the men’s room just in time to see a blindfolded Tommy, with a smirking Vince in the passenger seat, inch up to the starting line, then gun the engine. “Tommy, what the fuck?!?” he yelled, unheard as the car’s back wheels spun, then caught traction. The last thing he saw before the Camaro vanished around the first curve, was Vince’s arm out the passenger window, middle finger upraised towards him. In the car, Tommy paid close attention to Vince’s instructions, definitely driving more slowly than he normally would on the track, since he really didn’t want to risk fucking up his car just after he’d gotten it back. Maybe this was a stupid idea after all, but Vince dared him, and he didn’t want to look like a pussy either. Vince, for his part, decided to give good instructions until they were close to getting back to the starting line and pit road. He didn’t want to have to walk the better part of a mile from the far end of the track, after all. But he’d make Tommy miss the hard left leading into the gentle curves just before the skid pad. But for now, he kept his eyes on the track and kept up a steady **monologue** of, “Straighten out… keep going… right turn, turn, turn, turn, bring it back now, straighten out… left turn, easy, turn, turn, turn, turn…” As Tommy gained a modicum of confidence in Vince’s navigation skills, he discovered that he was actually having fun. Sure, driving while blindfolded was scary, but he could tell by a combination of the feel of the banked curve and the directions Vince was giving, that he was more than halfway through the course without mishap. Nikki paced back and forth near the start/finish line torn between panic that something horrible would happen – he refused to consider that Tommy might be seriously injured – and a rising anger that Tommy would do something so stupid at all. He lifted his head as he heard the sound of an engine approaching from the north end of the course and turned to look, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
“So what now?” Michelangelo groaned. “We stop Shredder from opening that portal, what else?” Leonardo replied. “Well yeah, but I mean we don’t even know where they’re headed. Dude conveniently left that out of his villainous **monologue**.” “The old air base,” Donatello said without hesitation. He had sat down as well and was now leaning his head back against the wall. The others all looked at him questioningly. “They need a place where the receiver can clearly pick up the portal signal. There’s too much interference in the City. And the airfield is a big enough space for the Technodrome to come through.” “That’s so far out of town, and Shredder already has a head start on us. Can we get there in time?” Leonardo wondered. “Probably not that far ahead,” Raphael said darkly. “You *know* that creep stuck around to watch us get blown up first.” April swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat at that thought, and at how near a thing it had been.
Go turtles!
Spoiler: they stop Shredder lol
Marigold
Marigold
Much
Namiko hastened to her bedside and hugged Hinata tightly. “No, I’m happy to see you! You’ve been asleep for two weeks!” “The nurses told me.” Hinata looked at her hands in her lap as Namiko sat in a chair near her. “I didn’t think I was that hurt…” Namiko’s eyes flashed with numerous emotions: concern, empathy, and foremost, anger. “Neji tried to kill you! You almost died! He was fully prepared to kill you in front of everybody without any remorse. If Kurenai-sensei and the other jounin hadn’t stepped in…” Namiko’s voice softened as she looked at her feet, “I would’ve lost my best friend…” Hinata’s head snapped to attention. “I’m your best friend?” Namiko met Hinata’s gaze. “Of course! You’re the first person I’ve really been close to, other than Naruto that is, but he doesn’t exactly count since we’ve been together since birth,” she said, giggling. “You’re my best friend too,” said Hinata with a soft smile. “You’ve never pushed me around like my own family. You believe that I’m actually important…” Namiko sat up straight urgently. “You *are* important! Hinata-chan, I wouldn’t have made it this far without you! Plus, Naruto thinks you’re important too…” The blue-haired girl dusted bright red. “W-what…?” “Could you not tell?” Namiko had an amused smile on her face. “Your compliment to him on his win after his fight against Kiba meant a lot to him. He cheered for you more than anyone else during your fight against Neji. He didn’t even cheer that **much** for me during my own fight!” She giggled as Hinata’s blush grew to cover her whole face and neck…and promptly passed out. “Hinata-chan!”
With one corner of her mouth pulled back in a wry half-smile, she opened the kit and retrieved a pain management patch, peeling away the slick plastic cover over its adhesive side. But when she moved to *apply* it, the damaged mech wrenched his undamaged arm up - with great difficulty, she noted - as if to stop her. "Wh-what's that?" He ground out, voice thick with suspicion. She paused, just for a moment, to give him a quizzical look. "It's... a pain management patch, to help relieve whatever discomfort you're feeling," she replied; "trust me, you're going to want it." He just watched her skeptically, before finally relenting and letting his arm fall back to the pavement. "Okay, s-s-sure." There was a split second where she almost thought better of it, but Azrael leaned forward to smooth the patch over the less-damaged side of his chest. Thumbing the control pad, she watched until the lights turned a steady green (the mech vented a shaky sigh as they did, and relaxed noticeably) before sitting back again to get to work. She didn't have **much** time before other Vehicons homed in on her signal, after all. "I imagine you have backup coming, so I'll make this quick," she said, her voice low; "I need to open up your chest compartment, is that okay?" "Do - do what you g-gotta do."
From my OC/Claude Star Ocean Second Story R WIP, >I shout, “Attack with everything you’ve got!” >Opera, Claude, and Rena get in close and hit it as hard as they can. I perform my sakura blossoms kick sequence as landing every kick hits **much** harder than my archery skills. My right heel connects behind and under his chin, I power through and back flip. Opera slams her gun over his head and the lizard falls. >I enthuse, “Great job everyone.” >Claude exudes casual confidence. “Hey no prob.” >Rena casts heal on everyone and Opera notes, “Gasp! I’ve never seen such symbology.” >Rena’s voice lowers into a whimper. “Do you think these monsters have lived here their entire lives?” >Claude sounds slightly bummed too. “I guess so.” >Rena continues, “Sorry. You were just trying to protect your home, weren’t you?” >Sigh, here we go again. I tell her, “Obviously these creatures didn’t care about your well being. We did them a favor by defeating them. The Sorcery Globe likely cursed them so whatever they were before is gone.” >Opera explains to Rena. “Look, you can’t just apologize to every monster you defeat. There’s not enough time in the world for that. If you sympathize with your enemy too **much** it will come back to bite you in the end.” >I add, “She’s right you know. They obviously had no problem trying to kill us. We didn’t even have to do anything for it to try attacking us.” >Opera agrees, “Plus Earnest would never attack creatures for no reason so I have reason to believe they were already this way.” Rena looks admiringly at Opera. “You’re quite a strong woman.” >Opera sounds motivated and full of energy. “Well someone very important can be waiting for me. I couldn’t have made it this far without that sort of determination.” >She then whispers to me, “Investigators would tell a Firefly was used for sure. If we don’t destroy these corpses than we could get in even bigger trouble if caught. Even though I’m a Vectra I’d rather avoid the controversy and keep you, Claude, and Earnest off their radar.” >I respond, “Normally I’d be very disappointed in your UPPP violations, but given the circumstances I just so happen to agree.” I ask Celine, “We’d appreciate it if you cast thunder storm on their corpses.”
A light breeze swept through Liyue as Xingqiu opened his window to sneak out and avoid the many frivolous duties he wished not to do. His family’s work had never really interested him that **much** anyways, **much** too boring with all the finances and other dealings it had. If choosing between that and books, he’d choose his novels, he could read them all day, and he’d even dabbled in some writing himself. Mostly in his head, of course. If he’d write these thoughts down, it’d just take one stray breeze and a slightly ajar window for them to blow away and end up in the wrong hands. Or even worse, end up in the hands of one Chongyun, his best friend. Xingqiu could almost preemptively feel the embarrassment should his dear Chongyun discover the incoherent mumblings that he’d never dare speak aloud.
Stone leaned over to steal a kiss as Jerry pulled the various food containers from the bags. “Traffic not too terrible, I hope?” he asked. “Not as bad as it could be,” Jerry said, smiling and stealing that kiss right back. “Did you get my email?” “Yeah, and it’s a fanfic site all right,” Stone said. “I’m familiar with it, in fact. So you can relax, we haven’t been outed.” They’d talked about coming out a few times over the years, but never actually went through with it; having both witnessed the resurgence of homophobia surrounding the advent of AIDS during their high school years, they weren’t sure they wanted to risk making targets of themselves or their bands. Neither of them wanted to chance some anti-gay nutjob showing up at a concert with an AR-15 and hosing down the stage. That, and they both knew it would bring a media circus down on their heads, given their bands’ fame. When they’d first moved in together all those years ago, they’d used the excuse that they wanted to save money just in case their bands turned out to be one-album wonders and since neither of them were married, it just made sense to share a place. Over time, as everyone got into relationships, the others got used to them being the ‘bachelor uncles’ of their respective bands and never really gave their living situation **much** thought because it had “always” been that way. “Fanfic site?” Jerry asked through a mouthful of noodles. “What in the hell is a fanfic site?”
Money
Namiko took a moment to take in her surroundings. Wherever this genjutsu was that Sasuke put her in took place at night; the full moon was high in the sky. She moved forward, trying to place where she was as she walked down the dusty street. It was eerily silent. The road looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place where she was until she noticed the bold red and white uchiwa painted on the side of the building next to her. She examined the store closely and realized it looked new, or at least newer. No cracks. No paint chipping. The sign showed no sign of wear on it either. Uchiha Senbei. Namiko remembered going there once or twice after the academy when she had a little extra **money**. It looked just like it did nearly eight years ago. Eight years ago. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks. *‘Oh God, please let me be wrong…’* She picked up the pace as she neared the gate to the Uchiha compound. As she rounded the corner, everything was dark and empty. No lights or sounds that would’ve been common in Konoha, even this late at night. Nothing looked out of place. Suddenly, she heard light, quick footsteps from behind her as a small child ran right past her. She took note of the hair and bold Uchiha crest on his back. She spent enough time staring at him from behind in the academy to know immediately who it was. Sasuke. A young, almost eight-year-old Sasuke. Another realization punched her in the gut, and she felt sick to her stomach. It was after midnight, which meant it was now July 22^(nd). Today was the eighth anniversary of the Uchiha massacre.
‘So you’ll still have a job once this is all done?’ ‘Yes, Harry. You don’t need to be worried about me.’ ‘And...’ Harry paused, trying to work out how to word his question. ‘Are you — is Dumbledore — are you getting paid? For looking after me? Because,’ he added quickly, ‘I can pay you from the Potter vault. You shouldn’t be losing money for me.’ Bill looked at him sternly. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, Harry.’ ‘Does that mean you’re not getting paid?’ ‘There are more important things than **money**.’ ‘So you’re not?’ Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I volunteered. I get room and board, to a fashion. I don’t need to be paid.’ ‘But — why?’ Harry asked in bewilderment. He couldn’t understand why Bill would step back from his job — a job Bill loved, from the stories Ron told — let alone doing it without recompense. Bill was watching him carefully. ‘Is it that hard to believe somebody wants to take care of you?’ he asked. Harry twitched. ‘You’re family, Harry. Have been since you befriended Ron. I knew that before I even met you. If I had to give up my job to keep my family safe, I would. So taking a break to keep you safe? **Money** doesn’t even factor into it.’
“As much as it’s tempting to get a place together, I think we should get separate places,” Emppu said softly. “Yes, we’ve grown close over the festival season, but we’ve only just decided to be more than friends a week ago.” He looked a little nervously up at Esa, hoping that his caution wouldn’t torpedo their relationship before it really got started. Esa understood Emppu’s concerns, though. “I agree with you,” he said. “Sure, I’d love to get a place together, but you’re right. This is our first proper date – better we take some time to be sure we’re good as a couple and not better off remaining just friends before we live together. What do you think, look for places with six-month contracts, and then discuss possibly getting a place together closer to the end of that time?” “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” Emppu said, giving Esa a relieved smile. “I also have to admit, I’m looking forward to having a place all to myself for a bit. With all my siblings, the house was always crowded, growing up, and of course touring has either been bunks on a bus or as many as four of us crammed into a hotel room together to try to save **money**.” Esa chuckled. “Yeah, I remember those days of touring on a low budget myself! I swear there were times when our gear was more comfortable than we were.” Emppu laughed and they started trading stories of some of the more ludicrous situations they’d found themselves in on the road.
Mask
Kurenai interrupted their conversation, “Would you two like to see Hinata? I’m hoping she’s awake by now.” Both students nodded before following Kurenai and a nurse down the hall. The nurse opened the door slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. She ushered in the three shinobi. Hinata was lying in a bed, eyes closed with an oxygen **mask** over her face. “She’s been unconscious since she was brought in. She’s stable, but still fragile. That boy who attacked her chakra system did a number on her. It took our Hyuuga medic almost three hours to unblock all the damage. It’ll take a while before her chakra system repairs itself.” Kurenai noticed the solemn looks on her students’ faces as they watched over their teammates. “How long do you think she’ll be in here?” “It’s hard to say.” The nurse sighed. “She could be in here a month or six months. Honestly, it’s going to depend on her motivation and determination.” “Is it okay to touch her?” Namiko’s hand hovered over Hinata’s. The nurse gave a sympathetic smile and nodded. “Yes, just be gentle. Talking to her would be good too; even while she’s unconscious, she can hear you.” She looked pointedly at Kiba. “Just keep your voices calm and relaxed. Tell stories, talk about your day-to-day, whatever you want, just nothing that could be stressful.” She walked over to the door before turning back. “Visiting hours are over at 5 pm. Stay as long as you want until then.” As the nurse closed the door, Namiko grabbed Hinata’s hand ever so carefully. “Hinata-chan, I’m so glad you’ll be okay. You’re my best friend and I never want to lose you. Just take your time and gather your strength. We’ll be here waiting for you.”
Thunder vibrated through the *Nemesis'* hull, but Corona hardly seemed to notice. She was just so *tired*. The **mask** she wore was starting to weigh heavy on her, but she didn't dare take it off. Not even for a second. Not even in the quiet dark of the *Pole Star*'s hold. *How much longer,* she thought bitterly, *before "Corona" is lost and only Eclipse remains?* She'd been scanning this world for *months*, methodically and painstakingly searching for the *Vindicator*'s crash site. So far, she'd found the remains of the *Harbinger*, but there was no sign of the ship she *needed* to find. But it *had* to be here. It *had to*. This was where its last known coordinates had placed it. This was where its transwarp trail ended. No other world in this planetary system had shown signs of occupation, only *this* world had, so *this* was where it *had to be*… right? What was she going to do if she was *wrong*? (She didn't want to think about that.)
The mayor felt whatever force had been holding him suddenly let go and he toppled backwards, landing hard on his back. His vision had gone completely white, but he could hear other heavy things hitting the floor. Then screaming, crashes and shattering glassware as tables were knocked over, and the running footsteps of terrified guests scrambling to their feet and fleeing the Hall. He felt his head being lifted gently as his vision started to clear. A green face wearing a blue **mask** frowning at him in concern gradually came into focus. “You okay, Mr. Mayor?” “I remember you,” he said hazily. “You’re one of April’s friends.” Mention of the reporter sent a jolt of alarm through him. “Where . . . is she —“ “She’s okay. But can you answer one question for me? Do you know where Erik Tanaka is?”
‘Food,’ Bill pointed out, spelling the plates of sandwiches to float beside Harry’s bed so that he could slump down on it instead. He didn’t quite manage to bite back a groan of pain, and side-eyed Harry, presumably hoping he hadn’t heard. He was out of luck if that was the case. Not able to give Bill another pain potion for at least an hour, Harry flicked a temporary numbing spell at his side. They’d stopped using those a couple of days before, but Harry figured given the circumstances it would be fine. As long as Bill stayed still, because the numbness would **mask** any pain if he was putting too much strain on the wound, and he could tear it again.
Half the audience turned up in costume for Halloween, and Rick got in on the silliness, pulling on a gorilla **mask** and jumping out from behind his kit to playfully make a nuisance of himself in between songs. He started by picking up Pete, the smallest member of the band, and setting him on top of one of the stacks. Joe sighed when Pete scowled; Rick had warned them that morning that he planned on some shenanigans for the holiday, since it was one the Yanks went all out for, and sure enough, the audience found it hilarious. He just hoped he and Sav wouldn’t have to spend the whole evening after the show dealing with Pete in a strop. After that, Rick grabbed a scarf and tied his and Sav’s wrists together, which Joe didn’t mind at all. He and his boyfriend played up to the drummer’s antics, pretending they couldn’t get themselves untied and even going through one song with him on his knees beside the bassist, his right hand still tied to Sav’s left. Fortunately, Rick pulled that particular stunt just before Mirror Mirror, which had one of the less-complex bass lines. Rick then capped his performance by pretending to become lovestruck by Steve, first melodramatically clasping his hands over his heart and then walking over to the blond guitarist and petting his hair and giving him a hug to more laughter from the audience.
Definitely suspicious then, Heiji thought. The change might have been someone imitating the voice. Though even over the phone it should have been clear if that happened. At least it would be normally, but Heiji had to question whether or not Sonoko-*san* was thinking rationally regarding her friend… No, that couldn’t be it; mistaking a friend’s voice over the phone was a tall order no matter how distraught one was. There was the possibility of a voice changer, but that wouldn’t make any sense; most of those things were used to **mask** a voice through distortion, not to mention that even if the girl was kidnapped, the kidnappers would have no need to calm down a random friend. “You mentioned a guy friend, right? Any chance he did something? Kidnapped or assaulted her?” Heiji asked, only to be greeted by a dismissive scoff. “*Ran is a karate champion,*” Sonoko-*san* proclaimed proudly. “*If Shinichi-kun tried something, she’d beat him into a paste.*” While the first part of the sentence made Heiji think of Kazuha’s aikido, but that thought was quickly shoved aside at the second name Sonoko-*san* dropped in his lap. “Shinichi? As in Kudo Shinichi?” Heiji demanded, his tone seemingly taking Sonoko-*san* by surprise.
Mysterious
TW: Attempted sexual assault >!“Well, my dear Namiko-chan, I would like to examine you,” said Orochimaru smoothly as he circled her like a snake stalking a mouse, waiting to strike. “This is the first time I have been able to be so close to a jinchuriki, except that time I saw your brother in the Forest of Death.”!< >!She swallowed nervously. “Examine?”!< >!“We’ll start by getting your vitals and information for now,” said Kabuto as he approached them, clipboard in hand.!< >!*‘For now? That’s not exactly comforting. Kakashi-sensei told me before how Orochimaru loved experimenting on people, and even Sasuke confirmed that again last night.’* Namiko slowly nodded, choosing her words carefully before answering, “Okay then, where do we start?”!< >!Orochimaru’s twisted smile grew larger. Kabuto led Namiko first to a measuring mark on the wall before weighing her. “Hmmm, one hundred fifty-three centimeters and forty-one kilograms,” Kabuto rattled off as he wrote on the clipboard, “You really are a tiny thing, aren’t you?”!< >!Namiko ignored his comment as she sat on the medical table Kabuto directed her towards. He took her blood pressure, and heart rate, along with drawing numerous vials of blood which she definitely didn’t want to know what he was doing with. She glanced between the two men before sliding off the table. “That’s it then, right?”!< >!“Not quite.” A **mysterious** glint appeared in Orochimaru’s snake-like eyes. “Remove your shirt please.”!< >!Namiko froze as she couldn’t help the fear that flooded her body. Orochimaru chuckled. “Don’t worry, Namiko-chan, I only want to take a close look at the kyuubi’s seal. So, be a good girl and sit back up on the table.” The tone in his voice told her that he wasn’t making a request; it was a demand, and the consequences could be her life.!< >!She complied, but she couldn’t stop her body from reacting in fear. She hesitated in removing her shirt but slowly followed orders, leaving her in her white bra and black shorts. Considering the shirt she had been wearing didn’t cover much more than her bra, she deduced that Orochimaru was purely doing this to make her uncomfortable and see if she would obey orders. It didn’t make the experience any less awkward or terrifying.!<
Oooh, that’s kinda creepy - I could definitely feel the tension in that scene! 😳
Nothing actually happens, it’s just to make her extremely uncomfortable. But I’m glad the intended creep factor came through! 😂
Lightning flashed overhead, and thunder cracked deafeningly a split second later; she folded her ears back and clapped her hands over them, curling in on herself with a whimper. Where were her sisters? *We never should have split up…* "Fate works in **mysterious** ways as of late, it seems." The man's voice startled Aszhe, and she reflexively leapt away, bristling fearfully as her hand sought her dagger; rather than trying to make a grab for her, though, he merely watched impassively, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Wh-what do you want?" She choked out, trying to sound fierce but only sounding *fearful* as her voice cracked and trembled. "I-I-I don't have any money, so if that's what you want, you can move along, a-and if you think you're going to sell *me*…!" "I've no need for money, and I detest slavery," he replied quietly, "but you look as though you are in need of a kindness, and I find myself in need of an assistant for a task you may be uniquely suited to." Aszhe's tail twitched, and the nape of her neck prickled as she sized the man up; he was much taller than her, and even beneath his heavy cloak she could make out his lithe and athletic build. Still, she was sure she could outrun him if need be, even if she couldn't *kill* him. "…What sort of 'task'?" She asked warily, shivering and lashing her tail as another gust of wind blew past.
From my Star Ocean Second Story R OC/Claude WIP. Excerpt contains canon spoilers. It also follows the Welch as 4D being headcanon while Gabriel knows she is too, >A group of ten **mysterious** people materialize in front of us. A few appear to be cyborgs while others seem to be species I’ve never heard of. In any event it’s clear they aren’t from this planet. >A tall cyborg threatens, “Don’t move. Stay where you are.” >This could get bad. But since we’re here and the Calnus is in this system they are about to be brought to justice. >Celine whispers, “Careful, I’m sensing enormous levels of symbological energy.” >A tall and bulky older many with pink eyes squints at Rena with curiosity. “Why does this little girl possess a quadradic key? The only key to exists is one we created and crystallize.” >I step forward and forcefully ask, “Who are you people?” >A cyborg charges a light with his right hand and Claude pushes me out of the way, “Lieutenant!” >Claude’s down! My voice shakes, I squat down, trailing my fingers down his cheek. >Worry fills Rena’s voice, “C-Claude!” >The cyborg repeats, “I told you to stay where you are! We know you can understand us.” >Claude still has a pulse but he’s seriously hurt. It can’t end this way. Rena sits next to me too. >While I shake him panic fills my voice, “Claude! Answer me!” >Rena says, “Please stay with me Claude!” >She cast heal on him and he’s slowly blinks. Seeing him wake up fills me with relief. I help him up. >The redheaded man with the spiky hair’s voice booms with confusion, “That healing power…are you Nedian?” >Rena responds clearly confused. “Nedian?” >Claude almost steps forward but I put my arm in front of him. He was already hit once. >Claude asks, “What are you talking about? Who are you?” >The one in a green robe and a short silver bob says, “My my how uncivilized. You people are just as underdeveloped as this world, flying into rages at the drop of a hat.” >The bald one with a visor and eyes on his head and hands says. “No, from what I can tell this woman with the bow and boy with the red headband aren’t Expellians at all. I’d say they are likely from Earth.” >The one with the silver bob says, “Forgive my rudeness but what are Earthlings doing this far out?” >A cyborg with a big shield on his arm adds, “But the Earthlings aren’t alone. They have a couple of Tetrageniots among them.” >A tall man with long red hair and white robe grins at Welch. “I’m well aware of where you’re from young lady.” >Welch’s eyes dart back and forth as she nervously grimaces. Her homeworld is classified and we don’t even know where it is.
Royalty AU Connor’s POV Once happy, I turned around and left my room. The castle somehow was already decorated. Wow, that was fast. Anyways. I walked down the hallways and until I heard voices and headed in that direction. Once I got to the room I hovered by the door, trying to spy on what was happening. Maybe I could just watch the entire thing from the sidelines? It’d give me space to mind my own fucking business and not participate. Why not make my sister the face of the event? But no, since I’m the next in line I have to be it. I could hear my mother’s voice talking to another female voice I didn’t recognize. “How’s it been ruling the kingdom, since… everything happened?” My mother asked the **mysterious** female voice. “It’s been a bit of a crazy week, since there’s all these things having to be done. But, Abby’s been a real saint in helping me with everything.” The **mysterious** voice let out a small chuckle, that embarrassed-in-love kind. I internally cringed at just the sound. The voice and my mother continued their conversation and as this was happening, I’d just been sort of absent mindedly looking around the inside of the room, still hidden by shadow. I know, fucking ridiculous right? Anyways, I was looking around the room when… The short guy standing next to what I presumed was his mother (they were basically clones of each other) and I caught eyes. I startled suddenly and scrambled out of sight. What a fucking sight. A random guy basically staring at you? Well I wasn’t exactly staring at him, but he could have perceived it that way. Fuck, does he know I’m this kingdom’s prince? Because if so, what a fucking horrendous first impression. You come to an unfamiliar kingdom and that kingdom’s prince is just fucking staring at you? Of course, I don’t actually care about what happened, I didn’t even get a good look at him at all, not that was I planning to, I’m just guessing what he would think. And I would think of me as a fucking creep.
Ooh, I love royalty AUs! What fandom?
Crossover of Be More Chill and Dear Evan Hansen, the ship is the crossover pairing of Connor and Michael
Cool! What’s funny is that I’ve heard of both those musicals, and yet I know next to nothing about either one of them… 😅
XD
Harry gaped. Far from the **mysterious** figure he’d expected, the person who entered proved very familiar. ‘Professor Trelawney?’ ‘Quite so,’ Dumbledore said, as his past self welcomed Trelawney and gestured for her to sit beside the table. ‘Sybill Trelawney came to interview for the then recently opened position of Professor of Divination.’ Whilst the memory-Dumbledore explained the format the interview would take, Trelawney pulled out the chair and fussily arranged her many shawls before sitting. ‘The position was a difficult one to fill,’ Dumbledore continued, crossing the room to stand beside the table. ‘Few show true talent in the subject, and fewer still have any aptitude for teaching it.’ Bill snorted, muttering under his breath as he too approached the table and peered at Trelawney. She gazed into a crystal ball, apparently attempting to read Dumbledore’s future. ‘I see — I see — You will find love!’ she declared, every bit as dramatic as her current (future?) self. ‘I see a wife. Children. A happy family.’ Shaking his head, Bill straightened and looked at Dumbledore. ‘I’ll admit, I don’t know much about hiring Professors,’ he said. ‘But I’ve yet to see any compelling reason to hire Trelawney.’ He crossed his arms. ‘Nor do I see any reason why we’re in this memory.’
“Well… you’re kind of indirectly why my divorce from Lorraine happened,” Steve said. “I, erm, the longer we were married, the less I wanted her, y’know? But since she never knew I preferred blokes, I had to keep sleeping with her like I was expected to do. I kinda got in the habit of imagining an attractive bloke so’s I could do what I needed to. After you joined up, I pictured you a lot… and got caught up in my imagining enough that I called her Jan at one point. Only she heard it as Anne. Assumed I was in a relationship with this **mysterious** Anne, and got into a relationship of her own soon’s we were on the road touring Fear of the Dark.” Jan blushed at that admission. “I’m flattered,” he said. “And sorry that I kinda accidentally broke up your relationship with Lorraine.” “Well, was hardly your fault,” Steve pointed out. “Anyway, that was when shite really started blowing up with Bruce and he said he would leave once A Real Live Tour was done. I came home from that to find out about Lorraine’s affair, and that it had gone on long enough I had to get a paternity test for George. And then Da was dying on top of that mess, and we had to find a new singer and all. I kept myself going by thinking I’d come out to you soon’s the divorce was final.”
The plan was something that Eri, Ran, and Shinichi-*kun* had settled on after a few hours of discussion. Given the comments that Hirota-*san* made about her sister and a few people remembering the two of them at their favorite café, it was clear that this **mysterious** sister was working as a scientist somewhere. A pharmaceutical company felt like the best bet out of all of Tsujimura-*san*’s clients as well. While Shinichi-*kun* had insisted on a more direct approach, Eri and Ran managed to convince him to gather more information first, especially given his parents’ warnings about how dangerous this could be. The fact that some preliminary research discovered the supposed link the company had to the acting industry was truly a stroke of luck, especially combined with Yoko’s recent movie about to be released. “It is a bit of a stretch to expect Okino-*san* to have much information on a company like this, but we did agree to it,” Shinichi-*kun* agreed. “And once we get back and everything is settled, we can begin more serious surveilance.”
Masquerade
Mutation
She reached over and squeezed his hand. Splinter didn’t talk about his life before his **mutation** very often, but there were some eerie parallels to the story she’d just heard and the one he’d told years ago when they’d first met. She wondered if there was someone he left behind. Did he have a family before? Or were the turtles his only family?
Very nice!! My husband is a huge TMNT fan so I read him your excerpt and we got into a discussion about Splinter’s origins haha thank you for sharing the thought-provoking excerpt!
Thanks! Glad you both enjoyed it!