#Conference of Birds / Birds in Disguise

[taizi]

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

x

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there. 

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”  

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 

“Now.” 

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine. 

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen yuan #my writing #svsss fic #sy transmigrates into a blank role in a world where his favorite character exists #and he's supposed to - what ? NOT fulfill his personal fantasy of being lbh's best friend ?? ok 🙄 #naturally binghe has been obsessed since the moment this pretty boy first smiled at him #bingbing i love you you deserve a good shixiong / future wife and i'm here to deliver #ALSO sy's sword name is (yǒng) meaning perpetual ; eternal ; forever #and 亮 (liàng) meaning bright ; clear ; to show ; to shine #in my mind's eye zheng yang is golden so yong liang's silvery white is the perfect compliment #YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE SUN & MOON SHIP DYNAMIC 🫵 #heaven and hell were words to me

[slavicafire]

A riddle mediates between man and the Other — its voice is sometimes the bard's, sometimes the bird's. We contrive to know the riddler's meaning, the creature's world. Through other eyes we see our own symbolic systems. With reason we separate day from night, man from monster, plant from penis — only to discover in riddles a nightmare of resemblances and crossed categories. 

Can the fox be a great mother, the moon a night-bandit, the sword a celibate and serving thane? Can the dead ox revive to carry man (shoes) or sing through its skin the word of God (Bible)? Can a bird be a poet, a bagpipe a bird? This is the power the word confers — especially in the shape of metaphor.

Disguise and disclosure are the twin movements of metaphor and riddle.

- A Feast of Creatures: Anglo-Saxon Riddle-Songs, Craig Williamson

#a feast of creatures

[retlasute]

॰ In The Rich Man's World ॰

Word count: 7800

☆ Table of contents

Previous Chapter

Chapter 19 - Lead Me On

"You can leave your horses with Peter, don't worry.'' Stephen assured you after you reached your destination, although you weren't too worried about where you would leave Judas - if this Peter wasn't mentioned, you would just leave the horse where it was. 

The Steel house stood in front of you, a beautiful building, large and noticeably well ventilated and well lit. You crossed the lawn, ignoring the stares of several servants, gathered at the upper floor windows, pointing at you and whispering among themselves. 

"Please, come in.'' Lucy said, a little nervously. ''A good chat before dinner is ready would be great, wouldn't it?'' 

''Ah, Lucy, I'm afraid I can't come in now.'' Said Stephen, pausing for a moment to brush some leaves off his shoulders. "I told you I had a conference, didn't I?'' 

She paused for a few seconds, as if she hadn't forgotten the information. Gently, one of her hands touched the other in an involuntary gesture, and she smiled. 

"Ah, how could I forget?" She said sweetly. "But you're coming for dinner, aren't you?" 

"Of course.'' He said humorously, but without smiling, looking at Gyro and Johnny. ''Please, make yourselves at home. We have a lot to talk about over dinner, right?'' 

You had the strange sensation of being in the background, of being just an omnipresent viewer. And visible, of course, you thought as you stared at the bustling shapes in the second-floor windows, pointing and whispering at you and Louise. How many servants were there in that house? It wasn't an easy question to answer now, but you had the impression that this would be important information. 

And speaking of important information, you were deeply annoyed by everyone there. They seemed to be talking in code; Stephen's passive air, combined with his slightly grim expression disguised by a sympathetic radio announcer's voice, gave you the impression that he wasn't entirely happy with Gyro and Johnny's presence; at least, not as much as his wife. In a normal situation, if you didn't know them, you'd think they were Lucy's lovers judging by the constant exchange of glances; however, those glances weren't - thank God! - in any way lustful. 

The house was isolated, but not completely. You could tell that there were neighbors, however distant, on the outskirts. It was a plain surrounded by a coastal forest, the beach not far away. However, everything was silent when Stephen left, the air still and heavy. Even the birds were silent, with only the occasional peck of a woodpecker breaking the silence. 

When the horseman took Judas with the other horses, after preparing the horses of Stephen's carriage to set off again, you quickly unzipped your saddle bag. It contained nothing but files and your flashlight; but that, faced with the prospect of having a difficult conversation with Lucy about corpses and time travel, seemed useful enough. 

You intended to tell her, of course. But not the moment you arrived. You wanted her to get used to you and Louise first. 

"Please, follow me.'' Lucy said after waving to her husband. Her voice didn't change at any point, but she sounded subtly stern. 

You hesitated for a moment, turning to watch Gyro and Johnny and doing something only after seeing them do it. Their jaws seemed clenched with tension and they both loomed behind you like two Colossi of Rhodes . Lucy was waiting on the front porch of the house, the door already open and the horses already following the sun- and salt-burnt young Peter, who had greeted you too briefly. 

Gyro had also hesitated, you could see that, apparently foreseeing what was to come inside that house, but the combined forces of pity, boredom and exile had brought him to Staten Island and walking through that door would be the least of his worries. 

Then she led her unexpected guests through the house, ignoring the few surprised servants that passed, crossing the entrance and a small room, with paintings and memorials that you didn't have time to read who they belonged to, but there were many names. The living room boasted a fireplace with a well-polished console, silver and glass objects shone here and there, reflecting the late afternoon sun. 

"A nice house, huh?'' Gyro commented, more bothered by the silence than the others. ''How long have you been here?'' 

''A few months.'' She replied. ''There's still a lot to do. I'm tired of going into town every time we need something, so we're working on the animal enclosures and an area for the vegetable garden." 

"How far are we from this town?'' Johnny asked, sitting down on the arm of an armchair when he realized they were no longer walking around the house. 

"About twenty minutes on horseback.'' Lucy smiled briefly at the thought. "When we're not carrying chickens and goats, of course.'' 

Listening to such an unrelated and casual conversation, not knowing any of the people and feeling like a complete intruder, your first impulse had been to turn and walk away, but there would be no explanation or reason for that. Louise gave you the message, noticing that Lucy was watching you, her eyes calm and confused. You also noticed the silent communication between Gyro and Johnny, an invisible vibration in the air, as if they were two beads on the same string. 

"You look tired. It's been a long trip, hasn't it?'' 

You looked at her, surprised by the sudden interaction. 

"Yes...'' You said, pragmatically. ''Yes, it was quite a long trip. Louise and I came all the way from Washington.'' 

She raised her eyebrows, politely interested and ready to say something, until Gyro intervened. 

"And I came from another continent.'' He said. "The trip was especially long for me.'' 

''Oh, it's true!'' Lucy said, remembering that Gyro is Italian. As if it were even possible to forget that. ''How long have you been here, mister Zeppeli?'' 

"You can call me Gyro, missy.'' He said sympathetically, perhaps a little surprised at the formality. ''A week ago, I think. As soon as I landed, Johnny already threw a ton of tasks at me.'' 

''You say that like you did it all by yourself.'' Johnny defended himself. ''It was you who asked for more things to do.'' 

''Of course, of course. I've been bored for a long time.'' He said, patting one of the steel balls in his holster. ''Can you imagine, Lucy? Almost two years without breaking someone's face with those steel balls.'' 

''Sounds awful.'' She said casually, enjoying the moment. 

The house was spacious and airy inside, with high ceilings and French doors, but at the same time it didn't look so formal. It was furnished with comfortable elegance, but there were a few paintings and subtle handicrafts that gave it a touch of sweet home. You saw pieces of silver and crystal when you passed the dining room and thought that, apparently, Stephen Steel was very successful in whatever his current line of work was. 

"Can I get you something to drink?'' She asked when she saw from the other side that a maid was approaching with a pot of tea and just one cup, clearly not expecting visitors. ''I usually drink chamomile tea every afternoon before studying, it's great for concentration.'' 

"Oh, so you're studying?'' Gyro asked amiably. 

''Yes, I'm doing the best I can.'' She said mildly, looking at the silver tray the maid had placed on the table. ''Thank you. Can you get them something to drink?'' 

The woman looked ready to answer, when Johnny interrupted her. 

"Actually, Lucy, we can skip that, can't we?'' He suggested, clearly anxious. "We have more pressing matters.'' 

Gyro, however, didn't seem to agree with Johnny's haste, but he didn't intervene. 

Lucy's delicate, chronic smile wilted a little at the sudden break in pleasantries, so she dismissed the maid with a sympathetic nod. 

"Oh, yes, of course... I understand.'' 

Lucy asked them to accompany her, and this took you to a private room not far from the kitchen, smaller and more intimate, with the same amount of furniture as the larger rooms, but with homely touches among the brightness of the polished furniture and decorations. There was a large wicker basket full of skeins on a small polished wooden table, next to a glass vase with summer flowers and a small, silver, decorated bell. A spinning wheel was spinning alone and slowly in the breeze that came in through the open French doors. 

It was then, before entering, that Lucy stopped, somewhat confused. 

"I'm sorry for the rudeness.'' She said, turning to you and Louise. "But I don't know if mister Zeppeli and mister Joestar would like to talk about it so openly...'' 

Rudeness , you thought ironically when you heard her call Gyro and Johnny mister Zeppeli and mister Joestar . Then you looked at them; Gyro was distracted, gawking as he observed every corner of the house, clearly amused by the idea of dinner. Johnny seemed more focused, although you could see in his frown that nothing seemed more urgent to him than a bath, yet he still seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. 

"Don't worry, Lucy.'' Johnny said. ''They can be part of the conversation more than Gyro and I.'' 

Lucy hesitated and looked at you with friendly suspicion, then waited for everyone to enter. The house and all the furnishings looked simpler than Stephen and Lucy actually were, but it was all very well looked after, beautiful and organized with more than just good taste. You realized what was behind the elegant proportions and graceful decorations when Gyro stopped abruptly next to a large blackboard on the wall. 

"Damn, Lucy.'' He said, turning to her. "Do you really need to study all this?'' 

You thought you saw her expression turn somber, but she soon smiled again, not too blatantly . You could see what he was talking about: equations and functions; all relatively simple, but which aroused laziness and a bad shiver when you remembered high school. You doubted that Gyro had gone through an educational system similar to yours and Louise's, but you knew that the Zeppeli family had a good familiarity with trigonometry and numerical sequences such as Fibonacci’s. 

"Yes. Stephen says I need to focus on my education before I decide to live as a housewife forever." 

That room looked like a general study area; gently adapted for some craft activities, but mostly planned for Lucy's studies. Stephen seemed too sensible a man for the time; perhaps he had more of a sense of how much time he had left than Lucy and feared that she wouldn't find another husband like him. 

"If you're here, I imagine you've read my letter.'' She said seriously, then looked at you and Louise. "All of you. I didn't think you'd come so quickly.'' 

''We were already on our way to Manhattan, actually. Then I got the letter at Stafford station and saw your new address.'' Johnny explained. 

Lucy widened her eyes, somewhat puzzled. 

''You were already on your way? Why?'' 

Johnny looked at you, as if asking for some kind of confirmation to proceed, and you gave it, albeit terrified. He took a step in front of Lucy and, not knowing exactly where he had been guarding, you saw him hold out his hand and show her one of the corpse's eyes. 

You realized how frightened she was when you saw her, in a jolt, recoil at the sight of the corpse's eye. That didn't sound like something she would want to come into direct contact with again and you could completely understand why; but what you couldn't understand was why Johnny and Gyro would resign such a task of protecting the corpse to a girl like her. But you figured, then, that as oblivious as he was, Stephen probably knows or usually takes sides in this matter - but if so, why did she ask you not to mention it around him? 

Gyro and Louise exchanged glances that made it clear that this was precisely what they were thinking. 

"What? But... no... how?'' She began to stammer, her voice shaky as if she wasn't as ready to broach this subject as she imagined. ''How did you find it?'' 

''I didn't.'' Johnny said harshly, and then the eyes in the room fell on you and Louise. Lucy no longer looked as friendly as before, just a frightened mouse. 

''Who are you? Why...'' She began, not taking her eyes off you. 

''Oh... right. I guess I need to do this again...'' You said, looking for somewhere to sit, deciding to lean on a table next to the blackboard that Gyro had stopped looking at. 

You took a deep breath, with a long, shuddering sigh, and pursed your lips, until you thought you could speak calmly, hoping that somehow Louise would help you this time. 

"Louise and I work... we used to work at the Speedwagon Foundation, I'm sure you know it. I was an archaeologist, and she...'' 

"Human resources sector.'' She added, signaling that she would help you, leaning on the arm of an armchair on the other side of the room. ''Technically I was the second person to find the corpse... well, outside the bunker or wherever you hid it.'' 

Lucy's eyes lit up, completely unaware of what was to come. 

"Did you find it? Was it with someone? Where, exactly?'' She began her questions, much more impatient than when it had been Gyro and Johnny's turn. 

"In New Jersey.'' Louise continued calmly, signaling Lucy to remain calm as well. ''But we used to work in Washington DC.'' 

''Washington? That doesn't make sense. How did they find the corpse in New Jersey?'' 

Louise remained silent, pursing her lips and staring at you. You were grinding your teeth now, to the detriment of a new filling. Then you stopped and moistened your dry lips. 

"Listen, Lucy.'' You said, as sensibly as possible, although saying her name made your throat tickle. ''I'm sorry, but this story is much more confusing than you think, I know how it sounds. But we're going to tell the truth and after that there's nothing I can do about it for now.'' 

This speech did nothing to restore Lucy's confidence, and she moved closer to Johnny. He, however, had lost his dispassionate tone and showed signs of cautious interest as he listened to the story being told again, but in a more coherent and calm manner. Was it possible that he really had enough imagination to be able to understand everything this time? 

You drew hope from his face and opened your clenched fists. 

''It's that damn place. Devil's Palm.'' You said. "You know, the crater with the circle of claw-shaped stones?'' 

"Devil's Palm... yes.'' Lucy murmured. ''The one in the Arizona desert?'' 

''Right. Yes.'' You let out a loud breath. ''But that place hasn't passed through Arizona for many decades... I mean... two years, at least. But you must know the legends about this place, right? About people who gain mysterious powers, become delirious, become serial killers... get trapped and wake up in the last century?'' 

Lucy looked increasingly alarmed. 

''I can't understand it. Yes, I know that place, I saw a horrible murder that happened there with my own eyes, during the Steel Ball Run. But where are you going with this?'' 

''I'm saying that, well, this thing moves. But not only that. It was in New Jersey.'' 

''You don't have to tell her everything, (Y/N).'' Gyro interrupted, looking more worried than bored. ''It might just end up making her more confused.'' 

''No, wait.'' Johnny said. He looked at you, with the kind of repressed curiosity that a scientist shows when he puts a new slide under the microscope. ''Go on, (Y/N), you're doing fine.'' 

"Thank you.'' You said dryly. ''Don't worry, I'm not going to start talking bullshit; I just thought Lucy would like to know that there is a real basis to the legends. I have no idea what's really in this crater, only how it works, but the fact is...'' You took a deep breath. ''Louise and the research team found the corpse in the Devil's Palm, in an isolated forest, and took it to Washington so that my team and I could study it.'' 

"You're telling me... that the corpse is in Washington, then?'' She swallowed dryly. 

"No. It's not.'' You continued, with frightening calm. ''I was head of research for the Ecclesiastes project, you recognize that name, don't you? The fact is that we can't say who took the corpse out of the bunker, and we can't even say that Louise found the corpse... because that hasn't happened yet. It won't happen until 1976.'' 

And there was the poor thing, paralyzed, frowning, unable to understand a single word. You'd have thought she'd react like that; but if she could solve high school equations, she could handle two time travelers, couldn't she? 

''1976? I... I don't understand... what are you saying?'' 

"Louise and I stole the corpse from the lab in Washington.'' You explained slowly. ''Then we went back to New Jersey, because the crown of thorns wasn't sent with the rest of the corpse; it stayed with the other research team. But we also knew that the Devil's Palm was still there; we had the technology to know that and we completed the corpse there, on top of the Devil's Palm, and waited for dawn to leave." 

"We didn't intend to come back.'' Louise added what she thought was necessary. ''(Y/N) talked about some competitors of the Speedwagon Foundation who would pay a fortune for the corpse, so we decided to try our luck. Anything was better than going back.'' 

''Yes.'' You confirmed. ''And at some point we slept there, and somehow went through a damn time rift in Devil's Palm in 1976 and woke up in the same place, but in 1892.'' 

It was almost exactly what you had said to Gyro and Johnny. They stared at you, perplexed, for a moment, and then gave up trying to understand or question. They simply accepted it. 

You could see in those round, terrified blue eyes that Lucy didn't doubt your story one bit; on the contrary, it seemed to make more sense than it did to Johnny or Gyro, but you sensed that some rational side of her mind naturally rose to question it. 

Gyro, Johnny and even you were looking at Louise now; all aware that the story followed the path of the corpse. 

"I woke up first, I didn't notice anything different.'' Understanding that it was her cue, she continued. ''Except that the research team's tents were no longer there; but the corpse was, and that's what mattered. I picked it up and put it in the same box we brought it in and... Ha, well, I must have missed the eye. It's (Y/N) who's paid to be careful with mummies and corpses, not me.'' She added, in an effort to make fun. She wasn't very successful; Lucy's face contorted into a grimace and she looked more worried than ever. ''The first person I came across was a thief. Or two, maybe. The point is that I believe that in this day and age young women don't walk around unescorted and, if they do, it's not wearing t-shirts and carrying a shiny plastic box. This somehow made them see that there was something wrong with me. Luckily I was far enough away for them not to see (Y/N).'' 

Luckily? You thought remorsefully. 

''They thought twice before deciding to kill me, so they just decided to capture me and show me off to their leader. After that, I thought that my physical integrity was a priority before recovering the corpse, so I didn't bother to find out what happened to it.'' 

"The leader in question...'' Johnny decided to add, his voice startling Louise. "It's Joshua Creed.'' He said, and a slight shudder went through Louise at the memory of that name. ''I was there, I found their camp and I was about to capture him...'' 

He looked at you and you gave a slightly complacent smile, already understanding how inconvenient your arrival had been. 

"Until I showed up and ruined your plans.'' You added. ''Well, it was too much of a coincidence, it wasn't my fault.'' 

''Joshua Creed? I feel like I've heard that name before. What... what did he look like?'' Lucy seemed to come out of her stupor, at least slightly. 

"A fucking pervert.'' Louise answered immediately, feeling more able to talk about it. Lucy's eyes widened and turned to Johnny with an identical look of dismay. 

"A pervert, linked to Dio.'' Johnny added again, triggering some immediate memory in Lucy that made her expression soften in understanding. "Do you know him, Lucy?'' 

She immediately pulled herself together, a fist delicately closed over her chest, as if she could feel her own heart beating. 

"No, not personally.'' She said. ''But I've certainly heard this name in places where there was no reason for it to be said, but I can't remember.'' 

''Regardless of how well known this man is.'' Gyro interrupted. ''We don't know what kind of connection he has with Dio, or what would happen if this corpse fell into his hands...'' 

"And it's certainly already in his hands.'' Lucy added coldly. ''Well, at least we have a part. It's a tremendous relief to know that you have at least the eye, even if you found it completely unexpectedly.'' She gave you a strange look, as if you were some kind of alien. 

"And what are we going to do?'' Louise asked, crossing her arms, knowing that everyone wanted to ask the same question. 

''Wait for Stephen.'' She answered. ''He didn't agree to call you when the corpse disappeared, but I needed to... well, we can explain part of the story to him. Part of it. You're an archaeologist, aren't you?'' 

''Oh, yes.'' You replied, tired of this question. 

"That's great, we can use this to explain what happened... without involving the Devil's Palm.'' 

''Why should we hide it from him?'' Gyro asked. ''He saw as much as we did during the race. It's not like he hasn't already dealt with it.'' 

''Before they tried to assassinate him.'' She said coldly. ''The job is stressful enough for him, I'm fighting to keep his health from getting worse, and this story would take a good few years off his life.'' 

"I agree.'' You added involuntarily. ''That's not an easy thing to understand. Even Louise and I don't understand it. Let's not make this any longer than it has to be.'' 

Although Lucy was much kinder and easier to deal with than Gyro and Johnny, you still felt you owed her proof and explanations. So, before the matter came to an agonizing and temporary end, you considered handing her the documents you had picked up, but quickly dismissed the idea. You hadn't taken the time to organize them and you feared that she would see the documents she had written herself, not wanting to imagine how confused the poor girl's mind would be. So you just discreetly left the folder and the flashlight on the study table, figuring that Lucy wouldn't be back there again today. 

You spent the rest of the day in abstraction. Lucy seemed ready to introduce you to every room in the house and, with extra excitement, the garden, wandering distractedly from one side to the other, introducing you to the servants who popped up every now and then. 

"Aren't those the guys who used to work at the race?'' Johnny asked when he saw an exceptionally short man, very familiar even to you. 

"Yes.'' Lucy said. ''Some of them worked with us even before the race, and they're still with us.'' 

''They haven't changed a bit, they seem as hurried and busy as ever.'' Gyro commented, drawing a giggle from Lucy. 

''You haven't changed a bit either, mister Zeppeli.'' 

''Oh? What do you mean?'' 

''You haven't changed as much as Jojo, I mean. You still have the same quirky sense of humor.'' 

Gyro's reply was nothing more than a golden smile. 

''Have I changed?'' Johnny asked, curious. 

''Oh, yes, you certainly have.'' She said, then looked at Gyro as if she needed confirmation. ''Don't you agree?'' 

''She’s right.'' He confirmed, looking at his friend without worrying about embarrassing him with his scrutiny. ''You look more mature, stronger. Nyo-ho! Taller too, that's for sure!'' 

Johnny grimaced at Gyro's joke, refraining from further comment, and for a while you all walked along, sometimes together, sometimes with Lucy, Johnny and Gyro leading the way, meeting and introducing workers and places in the house and garden. You were happy to follow them, so that you could look at them without disguise. 

Even though you hadn't met them before, you sensed a certain atmosphere of evolution in them. Lucy was right, Johnny had changed, he had the aura of a moth that had just come out of its cocoon - crumpled wings, fragile, but better.  

He seemed more... dry, hardened. Like a piece of ceramics finally ready. A man totally turned in on himself for two years. The long muscles of his arms were not very striking, but well defined under the skin. His blond hair looked as if it had been lighter before - from platinum to pure gold - and was adorned with a blue cap full of stars and a horseshoe on the front. Horseshoe for good luck? You wondered, not believing it to be a purely aesthetic choice. 

But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,  you thought, amused. It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists, it is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees...  

Walt Whitman's poem had always summoned Thomas to you, but now it encompassed Johnny and Gyro too, no matter how different the three of them were. 

"This is your home.'' Lucy said tenderly. ''If you need anything, ask the maids. You're completely welcome here, don't forget that.'' 

You met the house servants on your little exploration when you arrived in the late afternoon. The last stop was the house's garden, full of peonies, hydrangeas, roses, and various other flowers that were apparently Lucy's personal choice. Some colorful birds rested and refreshed themselves in the small fountain and on the roof of two narrow buildings, with space for just one person and a door decorated with flowers. Apparently, these were the toilets, and you felt immense relief at the prospect of privacy, even if the structure wasn't much different - although strangely more hygienic - than that of chemical toilets. 

Walking through the garden with Louise, you didn't see anyone other than the man who watered the plants selectively, the only one who wasn't short and chubby, just like the others you'd seen. You flinched a little at the idea of suddenly being in constant control of a whole group of servants, but you reassured yourself that it shouldn't be much different from directing assistants in the laboratory, as you had done before. 

"When will her husband be back?'' Silent for a long time, Louise thought she had seen enough of the house and decided to rest on the steps of the front porch. Not wanting to part from her, you stood there, watching the small dirt road and no other houses around. 

"Before dinner, of course.'' 

''And what time is it?'' 

''I don't know. What time do people here usually have dinner?'' 

''Not at the same time as you, I'm sure.'' She scoffed, but tiredness didn't let her smile. 

In fact, she had looked like this for a long time. The theater she put on when she smiled at the sailors or pretended to be entertained by Gyro's stories became much more evident at times like this, when she gave in to exhaustion, sitting on the step while looking out over the vast, deserted countryside with a despairing gaze. 

"What now?'' She asked. 

''What?'' 

''We told Lucy, what now?'' 

''I... I don't know.'' 

''Are we going to look for the corpse again?'' 

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of this sentence and this situation suddenly fall on your shoulders like a lead blanket. Sitting down next to her, you rubbed your hands on your arms against the cold wind. Gyro, Johnny and Lucy were in the garden, or just getting their luggage from the horses. 

"I think so.'' You replied. "Believe me, it's the last thing I want to be doing.'' 

"I do.'' 

Louise gave a slightly crooked smile, without looking at you. You saw that she had swallowed and felt like hugging her, but she was already getting up, gesturing towards the door. 

"I'm starving, aren't you?'' She asked. "What do you think we're going to eat? I hope it's not fish... that eel is still swimming around in my stomach.'' 

You then stood up and put your hand on her shoulder. 

''Hey...'' You whispered. ''Is everything all right?'' 

Of course it wasn't, you thought, but there was no other way to ask. 

''I'm fine...'' Her smile was better. ''Just tired and hungry, like you. And that's all...'' She gestured to the house and everything around it. ''It's just very rustic, very... old, you know? Too nineteenth century.'' 

''Really?'' 

''Really.'' She confirmed. ''It's getting cold in here, I'm going in.'' 

The small area that you thought was the anteroom of the house, although not as narrow and practical as one, was quite useful. There were a few bookshelves and a coat rack that you had dispensed with. A mirror hung at shoulder height, but you could still see your face and Louise's next to it. You saw her lightly touch her own lips, cursing a cut and at the same time pleased that the bruise on her temple was fading and could easily be hidden by her hair. 

You didn't have any significant wounds, just cuts, scrapes and calluses that you could feel inside your old, worn-out shoes. But you were whole; you looked alive, at least. 

"I look like a crazy person.'' You said. 

"You are a crazy person.'' Louise said, but it sounded strangely comforting. "But look... you look less pale.'' 

''Pale?'' 

''I mean... now it feels like there's blood running through your veins. You look more... I don't know, radiant?'' 

''I don't know if radiant is a good word for... this...'' You pointed at your reflection in the mirror. ''But, yes, constant adrenaline makes the heart beat faster and the blood flow faster. Maybe that's exactly what I needed... a week on horseback. And you're not so bad either... better than me, at least.'' 

"You're being kind.'' She said, somewhat dejectedly. ''I stink.'' 

''You're not.'' 

''Yes, I am.'' 

''Haven't you ever been near Gyro? Nobody stinks around him.'' 

''Oh, no...'' She gave a brief smile. ''No, the only time I got close to him was when he rescued me... and I bit him, thinking it was some giant hyena grabbing me.'' 

You laughed, turning to the other wall to look at the frames. 

"A completely natural reaction, I'd say...'' You rested your hands on your hips as you looked up at a picture above you. ''Hey, I wonder what's written here...'' 

Louise approached to try and read it, but some voices in the background distracted her from her initial task and she turned like a pigeon to listen in hiding, just like you. 

"No, certainly not.'' You were half catching the maids' conversation, it seemed. ''What woman would allow that?'' 

You were curious about the nature of the conversation and so was Louise, both of you cautiously closing the door to listen more carefully. 

"Ah, that must be the effect of the road.'' Another voice said. ''They're pretty, though.'' 

''Ah, pretty? Well, they're young. But the boys are handsome, while they look like two tanagers.'' 

"Tanagers?'' Louise asked. 

"She meant that we're less beautiful than Gyro and Johnny.'' You explained. ''Or at least grayish and dull. While the males are colorful and handsome.'' 

''Since when do you know about birds?'' 

"They're the closest relatives of the dinosaurs.'' You joked. 

''Oh, of course.'' She said, dismissing the question she'd asked. ''But ugly? For God's sake, at least we have all our teeth.'' 

"And we don't get variola.'' You added, equally indignant. 

"Nor scurvy!'' This time she laughed a little louder, denouncing her presence to the two maids who elbowed each other and shut up before they even saw who it was. 

There was a brief, hurried rush that made you feel slightly guilty, but that feeling soon subsided. 

"Should we talk to them?'' You asked. 

"Absolutely.'' Louise replied. ''And be nice to them, too. No matter how their bosses treat them.'' 

''That's obvious. But... I can't get used to it.'' 

''To what?'' 

''A house with a maid for every room.'' 

''Ah...'' She giggled. ''Don't worry about it, you just need to follow one universal and timeless rule.'' 

''Which one?'' 

''Don't fuck with those who handle your food.'' 

Being sure that she had learned this from dating an Italian chef and finding the rule extremely sensible, you took a step forward. The living room was a large room, but not at all like the living rooms you were used to. In fact, the room's only use was to keep visitors under control and limit the extent to which they could explore the house - keeping everything that interested them, such as drinks and food, in one place, as close to the exit as possible. 

You could see the two maids in the kitchen, among the aromas of herbs and roast chicken. Your stomach rumbled embarrassingly, but only Louise heard and refrained from commenting. You spent days feeding yourselves on unseasoned meat and canned food seasoned only with aluminum and poor production controls. 

There were only two maids. An older lady, chubby, rosy cheeks from the heat of the kitchen and shiny gray curls tied up in a cloth cap, occasionally escaping, rebellious. You guessed that was the cook when you saw that the other maid was young enough to be her daughter, but she was just sweeping the floor with disguised resignation, as if they were hiding the cardinal sin they had committed of stopping work for a few seconds to chat about the sudden visitors. 

When you saw them, they also saw you and Louise. Their eyes, both clear, but one blue and the other gray-green, widened and they stopped what they were doing in exaggerated respect. You slowed your pace, losing your initial courage and letting Louise go ahead of you. 

"Hello.'' Louise said sympathetically as she stopped in front of the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining room. ''We haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves, have we?'' 

''Oh, no, no.'' The younger girl said in a frantic but disciplined way. ''There's no need to...'' 

"Don't worry, we're not mesdames. '' Louise said, holding out her hand. ''I'm Louise, and you?'' 

The girl hesitated for a moment before accepting the handshake, but took courage and did so. 

"Vionnet.'' She said. "At your service, ladies.'' 

Louise then held out her other hand to the cook, who promptly wiped her carrot-smeared hands on a clean cloth and returned the shake. 

"Margaret, but you can call me Margie.'' 

Being as polite as Louise, you also shook their hands. 

''(Y/N).'' You said simply. ''Do you know what time it is?'' 

''It's six o'clock.'' The youngest answered promptly after checking a clock you hadn't noticed on the mantelpiece in the living room. 

''Do you know when mister Steel will be back?'' 

''Oh, I’m not sure.'' Vionnet turned to the kitchen, her eyes wide and pretty like a owl’s. ''Margie, do you know?'' 

''In an hour, perhaps. Or two. It depends on what he's doing.'' 

"He said he was going to a conference.'' Louise said, leaning casually on the worktop. ''It smells great! What are you cooking?'' 

"I'm preparing the chicken that young Peter brought from the town.'' Margaret explained in her husky, sweet voice, returning to her chores. ''Accompanied by mashed potatoes with grated carrots. Is there anything you ladies would like to add?'' 

''Oh, no, it's fine as it is.'' You said. ''That's a real feast next to the rabbits Johnny used to hunt.'' 

"Oh, and Gyro's coffee.'' Louise added, feeling goosebumps. "Nothing is going to convince me that that isn't oil.'' 

Vionnet and Margaret looked at each other, mutually curious, and then turned to the two of you. 

"Johnny...'' Vionnet babbled. ''Did you mean Jojo? Joe Kid?'' 

''I thought he'd visit madam Steel one day, after so many letters... but I didn't see you two coming, ladies.'' 

''Does Lucy write a lot of letters to Johnny?'' You asked, curious. 

''Oh yes, every week! We don't know what she writes so much, but she says it's extremely confidential and she only trusts young Peter to deliver them to the station...'' The cook continued, hopelessly seized by the impulse for a good gossip. ''But, ah... well... I imagine you're their wives, aren't you? Lucy is a very good girl, she would never commit adultery or do anything inappropriate, I can assure you of that. They're just good friends.'' 

"Yes, good friends!'' Vionnet confirmed, which reassured you that that wasn't what they thought. 

"Oh, we're nobody's wives.'' Louise clarified. ''I'm just a widow and my friend here... she's a woman of science. What Johnny and Lucy are sharing is none of our business.'' 

"Even so, I hope they're not sharing anything.'' You said harshly. "She's only sixteen.'' 

"And mister Steel is fifty-eight.'' Vionnet said. "I think she'd be happier with mister Joestar, don't you?'' 

You remained quiet, both dumbfounded by the age difference between her and her husband and defeated by the cleaning lady's argument. 

"Poor thing...'' Louise said quietly, looking around to make sure they hadn't returned from their expedition in the garden. ''And how is mister Steel?'' 

''Oh, Lucy is the only person he ever treats with kindness.'' Margaret said, refraining from further description when the door to the living room opened with a creak. You could see from the gleam in Margaret's eyes that she was anxious to tell you something more. By now, you had seen the whole house and most of the servants and concluded that everything seemed strangely normal. 

Louise looked at the door and so did Vionnet. You lingered a little longer as you watched the cook grate the carrots with a very different grater than the ones you'd seen before. 

"Did you enjoy the garden tour?'' Louise asked with a certain amount of sarcasm. 

Whoever had come in had dumped a considerable amount of luggage on the floor next to the armchair and was walking towards the kitchen. 

"Ah, yes.'' Gyro answered, tired and equally sarcastic. ''You missed a very interesting display of the gardener pruning peonies.'' 

''How unlucky for us.'' You said, turning to see what he had dropped. 

If the maids had any doubts about your stay or visit, they were all cleared up when Gyro left his and Johnny's bags on the floor, planning to take them to another room later. However, helpful and frantic, Vionnet promptly picked up the bags and made a point of taking them upstairs. 

Startled by the small figure that had shot right past him to pick up the bags, Gyro felt a twinge of guilt at making it look like he had left the bags there for a woman to carry. 

"Hey, hey, girl.'' He stopped her, not being quick enough to put his hand on her shoulder. ''Don't worry about it, I can carry it up myself. I'm just taking a break.'' 

Vionnet raised her glowing face to Gyro, who outstripped the little maid by almost twelve inches. She looked just a little older than Lucy, graceful and slightly curvy; in front of her, Gyro looked like a Roman sculpture, severe and broad-boned. With his long, straight nose and long hair gleaming gold. 

''As you wish, mis... mister...'' She answered Gyro a little late. 

''Zeppeli.'' He said, with an exaggerated amount of confidence. ''Gyro Zeppeli. And you, pretty girl?'' 

''Vi...Vionnet.'' 

''Oh, Vionnet.'' He smiled when he pronounced her name in an exaggeratedly French way. ''That's a nice name. I would never allow a girl with such a pretty name to carry my luggage.'' 

"Vionnet, listen to the man and come finish sweeping the kitchen!'' The cook ordered, not too sternly. 

Noticing Louise lightly tapping on your arm with her elbows, you smiled at the scene. 

It was indeed remarkable, you thought, the instant effect Gyro had on women. He didn't say or do anything out of the ordinary, yet Gyro undeniably caught people's attention. He possessed a fascination, almost magnetic, that drew everyone into the glow around him. 

It drew you in; Gyro turned and smiled at you, and without realizing that he had moved, you saw him close enough to notice the soft, dry tan on the tops of his cheekbones and feel the faint wisp of flowers that remained in his hair from his wanderings through the garden. 

"Where are Johnny and Lucy?'' Louise asked, an expert at breaking uncomfortable silences. 

"Johnny is putting the saddles away and Lucy is insisting that he let the groom do it.'' He replied, with a hint of humor. ''And you, ladies? Getting to know the house better?'' 

''Yeah, how long are we going to be here?'' You asked, a little diffident. 

''Lucy won't let us leave until everything is sorted out.'' He said, putting his hand on his hip and taking off his hat. "Look on the bright side, you'll have beds for a while.'' 

"Oh, you mean we have guests, then?'' The cook intervened, looking at the young maid. ''What are you doing standing there, Vionnet? Go tidy up the rooms!'' 

''Yes, ma'am!'' She promptly obeyed, abandoning her previous task of sweeping the kitchen. 

You frowned, somewhat confused and worried. 

''Gyro...'' You said, putting your hand on Louise's shoulder to make her walk with you. "Can we talk to you outside?'' 

Gyro stared at you like a circumspect owl, but readily agreed. On the way to the door, you saw him turn to the lovely Vionnet for a moment; some congenital tic made him unable to close a single eye in a wink whenever he wanted to, and Louise held back from giggle. But that impulse soon vanished when you stopped on the porch outside the house and Louise closed the door behind her. 

"Seriously.'' You said, changing your tone almost instantly to head scientist as you crossed your arms. ''How long are we talking about?'' 

"Don't talk like I know, bambina. '' He said, as frustrated as you. ''I didn't want to spend my vacation in America like this either.'' 

"Well, I didn't want to spend my post-demission like this.'' Louise added, just to show that she was unhappy too. ''Where are we going to start, anyway?'' 

''After the bastard with the corpse, for sure. And then the Devil's Palm, which seems to be the hardest part without the trackers.'' You said. ''Johnny seems to know how that gang acts, he must have some clue as to who's with the corpse now.'' 

"Are you serious? I'm sure it's with Dio right now.'' Gyro said. 

''I'm sure it's not.'' You interrupted. ''It takes eight or nine days from New Jersey to Staten Island, which is half the way it would be if we were going to Manhattan... and that's where he lives, right? Manhattan. The corpse is not with Creed, it seems, but with some very reliable courier.'' 

''And how do you know that?'' 

''That's what he said at the hiding place.'' 

''And why the hell wouldn't it already be with Dio?'' 

''I don't think he's in such a hurry to build a plane that can deliver the corpse to him in minutes!'' 

He was surprised when he saw you raise your voice, impatient, but he didn't back down. 

"You don't even know what you're talking about.'' 

''I know more about that corpse than anyone else in the world now and that's the only thing that matters!'' 

He laughed debauchedly and tiredly. 

"Let's see if you'll say that when you're in the hands of Dio or his affiliates.'' 

''I'm sure the corpse never even left New Jersey. We don't know the actual location, but we know the destination, and that's a big advantage." 

"He could be bluffing.'' 

''Yes, he could. But then where could he have left the corpse? For God's sake, Gyro, we can be smarter and faster than that. We need to get home, we can't waste any more time and above all we mustn't abuse our damn hospitality here! God, Louise and I have barely met Lucy and suddenly we're waiting for her husband to arrive for dinner? Meanwhile the corpse is somewhere, and the Devil's Palm is somewhere else! And guess what? We need to find them both, Gyro, both of them! We can't stay here while...'' 

"Oh, darling, you're early!'' You heard a quiet voice say up ahead. 

A sudden silence came over you and you didn't dare continue the discussion. Your embarrassment expanded with such force that it almost tore you apart. Stephen arrived, in his green suit, social but not overly formal. Stepping firmly, breathing heavily, and soon was in Lucy's arms. The next moment you heard her - alive, real - coming out onto the porch with a rush in her fresh pink dress, the short but full sleeves hiding her shoulders. The march of the day resumed its course, and it was time for dinner. 

"Looks like someone's came early for dinner.'' Louise remarked relaxedly, although disconcerted by the discussion, as she watched Stephen Steel get off the same wagon that had left. She was clearly surprised, perhaps as much as the maids would have been, by Stephen's early hour. ''Good, I'm starving and you shouldn't stress on an empty stomach, Lady Loboutin.'' 

"Listen to your friend and get your head on straight.'' Gyro said. ''What's the point of going home if you're too mad to enjoy it? The day isn't over yet.'' 

One of the effects of stress, withdrawal and sleep deprivation is that you stop thinking coherently; and that's exactly what was happening to you. But you'd gotten used to this state enough to know that you only had two choices when faced with a social situation: keep quiet and look unfriendly, or open your mouth and look hysterical. 

Even though you weren't always in a similar situation, you had chosen all your life to keep quiet, and now would be no different; but what irritated you was the satisfaction on Gyro's face when he saw you suddenly go silent, as if he had won something. 

He'll lose that smile soon, you thought spitefully, and then smiled to greet mister Steel. 

#steel ball run #diego brando #diego brando x reader #gyro x reader #jjba part 7 #johnny joestar #jojos bizzare adventure #ao3fic #gyro zeppeli #johnny joestar x reader

[fairlyabookie]

Song in Moonlight (Chapter 2)

Synopsis: A haunting voice fills the air with sultry lyrics, a playful piano accompanying the act. Beautiful and flawless can describe this act, yet this isn't enough, thought the singer, as all eyes train on him and his beautiful self.

Part 1

Part 2

It was the crack of dawn when [Reader] was roused to Vil’s side. The performer had an early performance in the morning, a private conference with him as a special entertainer for the client. 

“Good morning, Vil.” 

[Reader] enters the room, taking a trolley of cosmetic products with them. 

“Good morning, [Reader]. I trust you’ll be providing me the best quality work for me?” 

Morning drowsiness deepened Vil’s voice to a sultry and husky tone, nearly croaky from waking up earlier. A warm cup of black tea sits by the vanity, a reminder for Vil to drink up. 

“Of course, Vil. The concept is golden hour, yes?” 

“No, I want to try something bold. Perhaps an aurora pattern?” 

“Of course, Vil.” 

“I’m counting on you.” 

With Vil’s blessing, [Reader] begins their work, painting a masterpiece onto the canvas of Vil’s features. Glittering eyeshadow accentuate violet orbitals into glittering gems, blush the color of peonies portray a healthy glow, and painted lips the color of scarlet red all blend for a flawless mask befitting for the singer. 

The mask was picture-perfect, worthy enough to turn the heads of a passerby. 

But it wasn’t beautiful enough. 

The slight frown by Vil’s lips indicated disappointment, a sentiment [Reader] knew too well. There was more to be done. 

“Thank you, [Reader],” 

He inspects his reflection, eyeing for any imperfections in his complexion. Should I redo it? [Reader] frets. Yet, the singer had more to worry about than an imperfect makeup job - the private gig was important. 

“Gilbert.” 

“Yes, Vil?” 

The butler’s muffled voice answers from the other side of the door. 

“Prepare the carriage.” 

“Of course, Vil.” 

An anxiety blossoms in [Reader]’s bosom as they watch the singer depart without a word. Had they done something wrong with the makeup? Wasn’t it not up to Vil’s expectations? These questions swirl about [Reader]’s mind, a calamity by a calm demeanor. 

 ━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━

The morning sun graces the arrival of an eloquently decorated carriage, soft neighs and snorts uttering from the horses’ snorts as the vehicle stills to a halt. 

“Vil, we have arrived.” 

Gilbert announces, bidding the stable boy a grateful nod before attending to his superior. Sharp steps click defiantly against tile, a train of silk and velvet trails behind gilded heels. With every step, Vil the singer enters into a ballroom of eloquence. Few people fill the room, dressed in equally beautiful outfits, engaged in conversation. 

“Announcing Vil Schoenheit, singer and model of the Queens Theater Troupe.” 

The guardsmen by the doorway booms the singer’s arrival, eliciting many curious gazes to his direction. Whispered rumors of long ago flit about like moths to a light as an elite approaches Vil with an amicable smile. 

“Mr. Schoenheit, a pleasure to meet you! Allow me to escort you to the stage.” 

Violet orbitals under an embellishment of a mask hone onto a host’s semblance; a sliver of a smirk dances upon his lips, an unfortunate sight Vil had been familiar with. 

“Sir Kyle, I see you’re doing well.” 

“Why, thank you, Vil. It’s an honor having you here. I followed your troupe member’s advice and redid my morning routine. That change has cured me of my morning moods!” 

Rook helped you, didn’t he? I told him not to get himself involved in our clients’ personal affairs. A simple disguise of a smile washes away any sign of contempt from Vil. Not now, I’ll deal with Rook myself after this. 

“I can see the improvement in your complexion, my good sir. You look well.” 

“Why, thank you! Now, pretty bird, will you do me the honor to see you this fine morning?” 

“My pleasure, dear sir.” 

A content smile and a practiced nod was all it took for the host to let go of Vil’s hand. He thanked the stars for his first gig being a private masquerade, the scowl by his lips would’ve been easily seen by everyone in the venue if he were exposed. Gossip would ensue, thus ending his career right then and there. For now, he must keep grace and sing as he saw fit. 

Applause sprinkles amongst the ranks of masked attendees, welcoming the singer to the stage amongst the string players and woodwind players. 

“Music, please.” 

Vil bids with a nod. 

Largo, graceful notes begin a warm melody, the voices of the strings and woodwinds singing a duet of melancholy and romance. A soprano voice joins the duet, words of a past love uttered from a matured individual. The lyrics were nothing more but a vain love letter from the composer to a married, unrequited lover. Yet, this was art, an art many relish as beauty. 

 Followers of beauty are often those who to control it to how they fit, shallow elitists with fragile egos who claim to be knowledgeable about aesthetics. Alas, those who claim to know art as an aesthetic frequently claim to know “beauty” as a value; everyone believed in vanity, a notion Vil had observed in many of his gigs. If they desired a song of beauty to be shared, the singer must be equally beautiful. 

The singer belts out lyrics of a story, beautiful notes resonating throughout the ballroom. The acoustics of the strings and woodwind accompany the vocalist in song, embellishing in dynamics and timbre. It was beautiful to many, but for Vil, it wasn’t his best.

As the song concludes, a standing ovation congratulates the artists for a beautiful rendition. Whistles and many echo about the ballroom, enthusiastic cheers praising the musicians.

“Beaute, Vil! Your performance gave me goosebumps! Must I say your voice always enriches me with its warmth! Ah, I’m always enamored by your singing, mon etolie!” 

Vil could fathom Rook’s voice in the distance, a twiddling voice singing his usual praises amongst the thunderous applause. The singer had no doubt that his admirer would be present at the masquerade. As the ballroom returns to its pleasantries, many guests flock to Vil with appraisals of their own, a series of voices overwhelming him. 

“Vil, your singing is so wonderful!” 

“Please, come sing for my daughter! She’d be delighted to listen to your voice on her coming of age!” 

“Vil!” 

“Vil!” 

The singer’s lips open for a response, but a silhouette intervenes, shielding him from the onslaught of guests. 

“Now, now, my dear guests! Our lovely Vil would love to have a word with you, but now, he must rest his precious voice for the time being.” 

“Oh, oh, oh! Many pardons, Vil. We shall not disturb you. Come along, everyone! We mustn’t disturb Vil from his rest!” 

Thank you, Rook. The two weave between enamored patrons and eloquently dressed guests, treading in light steps until they arrive to the calming embrace of night by the balcony. 

“Thank you, Rook.” 

Words from Vil’s lips finally break the silence. 

“Why, thank you, Vil. I had the greatest honor of hearing you sing today. You sounded splendid as always!” 

“Enough with the flattery, Rook. You know I rely on sincerity in your words.” 

“But, of course, Vil. I was being honest!” 

Yet, the cheerful demeanor by Rook’s demeanor quickly fades to that of concern as he notices something amiss.. 

“Vil, you don’t look well.” 

Rook’s observation comes as a whisper, a frown listing by his lips. With a sigh, everything about the proud, beautiful singer dissipated, leaving nothing but a vulnerable Vil under the moonlight.

“.. it wasn’t enough.” 

“Your singing?” 

Vil’s frown deepens. 

“Everything.”

“How so, songbird?” 

“I practiced day and night, singing, but everything wasn’t enough.. Tonight, I wasn’t beautiful enough. No one heard it, but I felt my voice giving out. I felt I wasn’t singing loud enough. Rook, what should I do?” 

“Oh, songbird. Please..” 

Rook could watch as the demeanor of the great vocalist Vil Schoenheit crumbles in front of him. Moonlight cloaks Vil’s fallen silhouette in a cruel spotlight. 

“Tonight, I wasn’t beautiful enough.” 

The fallen songbird whispers to the darkness, tears soaking the pure white stone of a balcony.

Previous Part | Next Part

#collectors' tome #twst x reader #twisted wonderland vil #vil schoenheit

[turtlethon]

“Northern Lights Out”

Season 7, Episode 12 First US Airdate: October 23, 1993

The Turtles battle a Viking warrior who plans to cause global flooding.

“Northern Lights Out” is the penultimate episode of the “Vacation in Europe” side-season of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Ted Pedersen and Francis Moss are the writers of this adventure, both making their final contributions to the series here.

April is picnicking with the Turtles in Oslo, Norway, and had made a point of asking the hotel to prepare some local cuisine for the occasion. The Turtles have intervened to ensure the meal ends up being a pizza, in this case with a Scandanavian theme: a sardine and lutefisk topping. Donatello isn’t convinced, not being a fan of fish.

While in town, April attends an alternative energy conference. Donatello sits in as Professor Svenson addresses the audience, explaining that Norway rests on a series of mostly dormant volcanic pools; if their energy could be harnessed, it would provide the equivalent of half of Europe’s current power usage, generating enough electricity to light Oslo for a thousand years. The Professor is set to meet with government officials later that day to outline his proposal, but before he can do so, his speech is interrupted by a huge man in traditional Viking attire, introducing himself as Eric the Redeye, descendant of Thor. The axe-wielding warrior steals the Professor’s notes, easily defeats a group of security guards, and upon being quizzed by April for Channel 6, takes her hostage before escaping.

Losing his disguise, Donatello gives chase, charging through a glass window and falling from the second floor into a cart full of fish sitting on the street. As April watches on, Donnie and Eric size each other up but the fight ends abruptly when the damage caused to the building leads to bricks raining down upon them. Eric escapes with his men in a Viking motorcycle(?!) as the other Turtles arrive on the scene, frantically digging through the bricks while trying to free Donatello. The team are baffled when Donnie himself arrives to help, explaining that he dropped through a sewer opening and was never in danger.

Later, in their van, the Turtles watch a broadcast where April interviews Professor Svenson. She quizzes him as to whether Eric the Redeye could use the stolen notes for nefarious purposes, and with each question Svenson provides the same response: “Ya, sure, you betcha!” He eventually reveals that the notes on their own are useless, as only he knows the location of the volcanic pools in question. Figuring that this makes Svenson a target for a return visit from the Viking, the Turtles drive off to prepare for a counterattack.

As predicted, Eric arrives with a group of his men, taking Professor Svenson and April hostage. By the time the Turtles hit the scene they’ve quite literally missed the boat, watching as a solar-powered ship carrying the villains leaves the harbour. The Turtles source a boat of their own and follow closely behind, but are caught in a trap by Eric as act one ends, a mechanically operated chasm closing in on their ship.

Act two begins with the Turtles having lost their boat, now squeezed into small space on a cliff between the two sides of the chasm. Our heroes use grappling hooks to scale the chasm and watch as Eric’s ship sails away. Continuing to give chase by land, the Turtles head to a nearby farm; there, they find a pair of Elks, which they ride until they spot Eric’s ship pulling into a fjord. A concealed wall briefly opens to allow the boat inside, closing again moments later.

The Turtles consider how to get to Eric’s secret headquarters, with Donatello suggesting that there must be an air vent that could be used to gain entry. A bird happens to be seen getting sucked down into the ground, providing an indicator of where to go; later, the Turtles are seen descending via ropes. Below ground, they discover a Viking village and realise they’ll need to quickly source disguises.

A captive April learns that Professor Svenson has provided Eric with the locations of the volcanic pools. The Viking leader leaves with a group of his men in a giant mechanical flying horse, giving orders that Svenson and “that wench” be monitored in his absence. April takes offense at being addressed in such a manner, her anger overheard by the Turtles who are now wandering through the village dressed as locals. A rescue attempt by the team is foiled when the Vikings see through their disguises, but an unlikely figure saves our heroes: an old lady who is insistent that the Turtles are “green dwarves”, responsible for fashioning Thor’s hammer. She declares that the green teens “have come to do Odin’s bidding”, leading to rejoicing from the villagers. The Turtles lean into this, ordering that April and the Professor be freed and requesting the use of their longship.

Later, in the solar-powered boat, Professor Svenson explains to April and the Turtles that Eric intends to blow up the volcanic pools; doing so will melt the polar ice cap, causing disastrous coastal flooding. In the resulting chaos, the Vikings will plunder the flooded cities. A further complication follows as the ship carrying our heroes is confronted by Jormungandr, a legendary Nordic sea monster. The creature begins chowing down on the boat, at one point sending Michaelangelo through the ship’s deck; Raphael quips that he “feels another cliffhanger coming on” as the boat is pulled into Jormungandr’s mouth, concluding the second act.

The final segment of the show opens with Donatello discovering that Jormungandr is actually a robot, launching himself into its throat and using his bo staff to jam its mechanisms. Abandoning the ship, the other Turtles, April and Professor Svenson join Donnie inside the robot. The group alter its course, heading for the volcanic pools, but Eric is already there, and learns that his creature has been captured by the Turtles. Activating a remote control, he locks the Turtles out of the sea serpent’s control room and has it hit the rocks, the resulting flooding threatening to finish off our heroes who remain trapped inside.

Donatello works quickly, implementing a plan to re-fashion the sails of the boat devoured earlier by Jormungandr into a set of solar-powered gliders. The Turtles arrive at the volcanic pools and confront the hordes of Vikings, with Donatello attempting to disable the bomb but facing resistance from Eric. A final confrontation unfolds between the two within the volcano, but Donnie was able to study the schematics of Thor’s supposed hammer while aboard Jormungandr and activates a device which vaporises it. (Throughout this episode the hammer has been drawn, confusingly, as an axe.) With the villain defeated, he goes on to send the detonator device into the air on one of the gliders, narrowly avoiding disaster.

With the day saved, the team reunite, Donatello noting how hungry he is after today’s events. April reveals that she saved him a slice of the fish pizza from the beginning of the episode, leading the team’s resident inventor to run off, repulsed.

“Northern Lights Out” might be the most action-themed episode of the European Vacation arc, consisting largely of a series of chase scenes. We get a small amount of breathing room when the Turtles discover the Viking village, but soon our heroes are on their way again. Pedersen and Moss are among the show’s most prolific contributors and make a point of giving the Turtles plenty of one-liners along the way, which helped a great deal in maintaining my interest.

Like “Artless” before it, this episode breaks from convention by introducing a new villain; this should be refreshing, but Jim Cummings voices Eric the Redeye here sounding almost identical to his substitute Shredder, which diminishes the novelty considerably. Eric reminds me of the jewel thieves from “April Gets in Dutch” in that his defeat feels rushed and unsatisfying; Donatello destroys his hammer and Eric simply falls to his knees before the story moves on to hurriedly tie up the remaining loose ends before the end credits roll.

One final episode of this arc remains! Next time the green teens return to London and travel back in time for a very special crossover of sorts in “Elementary, My Dear Turtle”.

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #TMNT 1987 #1992 #1993 #Ninja Turtles #Northern Lights Out #Eric The Red-Eye #Eric The Redeye #Turtlethon

[regard-luxury]

Explained How Koenigsegg Squeezes 450kw From A Three-cylinder Engine In Its New Gemera Hypercar Life

Indeed, Christian advised TG.com final 12 months – when announcing a model new hypercar with hybrid tech – that he desires to wring out every final ounce of effectivity from the internal combustion engine. “I assume having a smaller battery pack and combining it with a CO2 impartial combustion engine is a very attractive, thrilling, lightweight and sporty resolution for a sports activities car,” he advised us. Equipped with three electric motors, the Gemera can drive fully silent as a lot as 340 km/h, and the powerful 800V battery offers in itself a range of up to 50 km. The silence in EV mode disguises the true battle cry of the Gemera.

Koenigsegg has at all times be identified for their two seater hyper cars with insanely refined expertise embedded into the DNA. His first automobile was an AMC Spirit, and he loved driving different "character cars" in his early twenties, like his rust-red '84 Volkswagon Rabbit and his '86 banana-yellow Volvo 240. He writes copy and content for a number of purchasers whereas also pursuing his artistic writing in poetry and fiction. Before diving into his dream career as a wordsmith, he worked as a disability support worker and musician. Koenigsegg added other practical bits not often present in supercars as well, including navigation, wireless connectivity, eight cupholders, and backseat screens. Rearview and bird’s eye view cameras substitute wing mirrors for increased visibility and decreased drag.

"The system will learn over time the best methods to operate the valves, what's most frugal, what's cleanest… It will ultimately begin doing things we’ve never considered," Koenigsegg says. "It'll float out and in of different methods of combusting by itself, ultimately in methods koenigsegg gemera not utterly comprehensible to us." But that's method out. Koengisegg says that the TFG will depend on human-coded valve operation for now. Trust Christian von Koenigsegg to do one thing insane, like internet hosting a press conference in the halls of the now-canceled Geneva International Motor Show.

It seems the Gemera was on his mind when he offered up that preview. The Gemera is basically cool each as an precise automobile you'll be able to drive, in addition to a testbed of innovative ideas. Most automotive manufacturers would contemplate debuting their quickest automotive of all time, the de facto fastest automobile on the planet, a reasonably complete motor present appearance.

The car has a spread of 590 miles when in hybrid mode, the corporate provides. The Koenigsegg 2021 Gemera features two scissor doors that open to an inside with seating for four people. Founded in 2012, Form Trends tirelessly covers the automotive design trade in all corners of the globe to bring you unique content material about automobiles, design, and the people behind the products. The Koenigsegg Gemera was one of the highlights of the latest Geneva No Show. The Gemera is the primary four-seat hypercar ever developed, and it's a technological marvel.

At excessive RPM, quicker closing valves might provide extra of a benefit, but “you’re nonetheless limited by the valve spring stiffness, valve mass, and seating rates to keep away from bodily damaging parts,” he told me via e-mail. ”—a variable cylinder deactivation strategy that precisely chooses which cylinders to fire by way of exact management of intake and exhaust valves. There are quite a few advantages to altering when valves open in the combustion cycle, how far they open, and the way lengthy they remain open. The main ones revolve round increasing volumetric efficiency for better gasoline financial system, power, and emissions, as well as drivability (i.e. broadening the torque band throughout the rev range). The front seats are made from hollow carbon-fiber monocoques and weigh only 37.5 kilos.

Switzerland banned gatherings of over 1000 folks because of the coronavirus outbreak. If those production numbers don’t scare you off, the value of proudly owning a Gemera would possibly. Jerry, your car insurance tremendous app, scoured the internet for details in regards to the Koenigsegg Gemera to give you an thought of what to expect from the car. Koenigsegg has unveiled its enlargement plan which includes an all new state-of-the-art Gemera manufacturing koenigsegg gemera unit with high-tech production and assembly line, buyer lounge, places of work, occasion, showroom and retail areas. What you actually need to know is that it means "optimal" energy delivery from the motor, and would not want a transmission or step gears because "the RPM of the motor is true from the get-go," in accordance with CEO Christian von Koenigsegg. The modern equivalents of Henry Ford, Karl Benz, and Ferdinand Porsche, this group of visionaries have changed the automotive landscape endlessly.

But while the automobile is made for four, it only has two doorways, although they're fairly massive, as they open upward. Meanwhile, the three electrical motors provide the moment torque needed for crazy-quick 1.9-second 0-62 mph (100 km/h) sprints, territory usually reserved for boundary-pushing all-electric two-seaters like the new Tesla Roadster or Aspark Owl. Koenigsegg additionally guarantees record-level km/h capabilities, which tells us the automobile's prime velocity is 249 mph or greater koenigsegg gemera, which means this four-seat GT would blow away most two-seaters not specifically designed for world report pace. This is a considerably higher velocity than the place the electrical power output is maximized, and it’s as a end result of the ICE and electric peak power factors don’t happen on the identical car velocity that total mixed output isn’t maximized.

I had been launched to Sasha a couple of days earlier by Etienne (Salomé), who has worked with Sasha at Bugatti and more recently with a hand within the Gemera interior design, and suggested an intro for this issue of b500. This allows Koenigsegg to exactly and rapidly range each particular person valve’s raise, length, and timing. “Both the consumption and exhaust valves could be opened and closed at any desired crankshaft angle and to any desired raise top,” the company writes on its web site. The Koenigsegg Gemera is considered one of the safest megacars out there and it's designed for world-wide homologation. The Gemera has a really strong carbon fiber monocoque, six sensible airbags, stability management, TC, ABS and an ADAS 2.5 assistant system. The 3000 mm wheelbase provides unprecedented comfort and straight-line stability.

[muutos]

he’d be the idiot everyone assumes him to be,should he not know who the other man is. what it is that he does.. he’d read all of his colleagues books. seen the pretty blond one, on the television.... however, he’d been smart enough to stuff them in his closet, before inviting the agent to his small apartment. in fact, that night the two had met, lawrence had spent the entire evening of insomnia ridden, red eyed hell - searching for his articles, or clips of press conferences. running a fine tooth comb, through each & every one. getting acquainted, with what exactly was involved in his job. yet, his confidence is not existent, & while he figured he should walk away.. there was a spark of something alluring, that pulled him back in. disguising the nasty deeds of his fingers, by the bright & childlike happiness alight in his expression. excitement, in what could have been such sweet, blue eyes. potential dripping from the crooked smile that can lighten his face. almost as if his self control were not hanging by an invisible, & steadily fraying thread. ready to snap, at any moment. though still, he wasn’t prepared to call spencer anything more than friend. for the sake of whatever sanity remained in his soul. even if he found his company & extensive knowledge addictive, at the very least. “i wanted to show you my collection.” more like, collections... bow lips peek into a shallow, closed lipped & slightly embarrassed smile. eyes lit, with that same prideful yet - still somehow shame ridden quality. endearing, if you didn’t know any better. scratching the back of his neck, with his elbow raised high. arm dropping with a harsh shrug. “you said your colleague was...” he swallows. “quite fond of birds, as well?” slightly narrowed brows & eyes are also present, alongside his smile. eyes flickering over spencer, as he inspects his copious amounts of bones, skulls & stuffed specimens.

@eidetic187​    /  /    gets a thing

#eidetic187 #lawrence dey * / in character #lawrence dey 001 * / main #tw insomnia #tw bones #tw skeleton #tw taxidermy

[nicealbumcovers]

Conference of Birds / Birds in Disguise EP by Avey Tare

#avey tare #2019 #Conference of Birds / Birds in Disguise

[dustedmagazine]

Avey Tare — Conference of Birds/Birds in Disguise (Domino)

Conference of Birds / Birds in Disguise by Avey Tare

This EP recreates five songs Avey Tare (aka Dave Portner) wrote and played live during his Eucalyptus and Cows on Hourglass Pond tours. Like the two solo discs—and indeed, like the recent work of Animal Collective — the songs alternate between tone-washed mystical auras and bouncy, dance-y raves.

This bird-themed recording breaks down into two distinct sides. Conference of Birds — encompassing “Midnight Special,” “Red Light Water Show” and “Disc One”—has a euphoric air, whether in the dopplering guitar and distant voiced soundscapes of the opener (“Midnight Special”) or the gentle undulations of “Disc One,” the catchiest, most melodic song on the EP. “Red Light Water Show” splits the difference between hook and atmosphere with oscillating keyboard riffs that split the time in twos and fours and high chanting vocals that crest over a burble of noise and glitch.

The Birds in Disguise side runs incrementally more abrasively. Its exuberance is sweatier, more physical and less celebratory than the opening’s cerebral whoosh and hum. A wheezing buzz marks out dystopian time in “Enjoy the Change,” sounding a bit like the siren-y riff in ESG’s “UFO,” then eighth-banging percussion bumps up the tension. There’s a claustrophobic tautness in this cut very much at odds with “Disc One”’s dayglo colored joys. “Uncle Donut” dials up the rhythm further, with a syncopated cadence in percussion and chant; it is very much in line with the rave-y, drum-heavy experience of a live Animal Collective show.

Fans of Avey Tare, and of Animal Collective in general, will find much to like in this brief recording. If nothing else it’s more of what they do, which lots and lots of people like very much. Does it break down the barriers, explore new territory, redefine how you think of Avey Tare (assuming that you do think of him)? It does not. But it shimmers and envelops and bops in a satisfying way, and will perhaps, hold you until the next full length from Portner solo or his more famous band.  

Jennifer Kelly

#avey tare #conference of birds #birds in disguise #domino #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #animal collective #indie #experimental

[missvelvetsstuff]

Little Bird

Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter 8

When the quinjet landed Rika was sent to medical to make sure she was alright but also to help with the mutants that they needed to check for any serious injuries. Steve figured they would be more comfortable with her since so many already knew her.

Once Rika and Kurt were both cleared they sat in a sitting area with a couple of couches talking. Kurt never really knew either of their parents so had many questions for Rika about them. Rika told him all she knew and remembered. She also told him that his father was one of the mutants that Colonel Stryker killed during the military experiments.

Loki showed up while they were talking and gave Rika a hug after she assured him that she was fine.

@vicmc624 @nash-dara

I heard that you saved the day, and the soldier. I'm very proud of you."

He looked at Kurt "I'm Loki and you are?"

Rika looked at him. "This is my brother Kurt, he was one of the prisoners we saved. He's actually with the X-Men."

Loki offered his hand "It's nice to meet you. I'm Loki, prince of Asgard'

Kurt looked surprised, most people took a minute to get used to his looks but Loki didn't seem bothered. Kurt shook his hand "I'm Kurt Wagner of Germany. It's nice to meet my sisters boyfriend"

Loki laughed "No, just friends"

Remy sauntered up right then "Good to know Rika is still single. Maybe we could go out before I leave"

Rika laughed "Such a charmer, Remy." as he kissed her hand.

Tony came over to talk to Rika. "I have your stealth suit almost ready and wanted to talk about having a party to announce you joining the team and celebrate a successful mission. Maybe in a couple of nights?"

Rika frowned at him "Tony, I haven't made any decisions about joining the team."

"C'mon kid. You can fight, go undercover and heal like crazy. Think of all the good you can do. A shining example to humanity of what mutants can do-"

Rika shakes her head "No. Tony, even if I do decide to join the team I'm not willing to make my genetics public. It will put a target on my back and put me in Senator Kelly's sights if he gets the Mutant Registration Act passed, which I'm pretty sure General Ross supports. That's a hard no."

Tony looks thoughtful "Sorry, kid. I didn't think of that. Ok, we can just bill you as a master of disguise who can kick ass."

Rika tilts her head "Tony, you know I'm older than you, right?

Do you have to push on me joining the team right after a mission"

"That's usually the best time, when you're all hopped up on adrenaline and teamwork" Tony mused

Rika laughed "Wait till you get the mission report, not a ton of teamwork happened until after you showed up. Barnes didn't protect me and I had to rescue him."

Tony chuckled "I look forward to reading that. We'll hold off on the new team member announcement but have a party to celebrate a successful mission. I'll keep it simple, just agents on site, the team and whoever Xavier wants to bring along."

Rika nods "sounds acceptable as long as I can invite Wade." Tony smirks "I suppose. There's something off about him but he's your friend"

Rika laughs "something off? You have no idea."

Rika heads to the conference room for debriefing and spends the next two hours giving Nick Fury the rundown of what happened. Bucky didn't talk much, slouching in his chair and staring at his hands.

Fury was very impressed with her ability to keep cool under pressure and reiterated the offer to join the team.

Rika just rolled her eyes and nodded, thinking this team must be pretty hard up for people if they are pushing this hard for her to join.

Once the briefing and her mission reports were done Rika went to the kitchen for a snack before she gets some well earned rest. Nat was in the kitchen making hot cocoa and offered Rika a cup.

They sat in silence, enjoying their cocoa before Nat spoke up "Tony is positive you are joining the team but even if you don't his parties are always interesting. Lucky for you this is an in house only party so no press and no dirty old men to convince to donate to the cause. We can go tomorrow and find you a dress."

Rika shook her head, "I already have a few party dresses that we bought when we went shopping with Wanda."

Nat smiled "Those are just for the occasions you don't have time to shop. We have a couple of days so need to go find something."

Rika shrugs "If you insist" and finishes her cocoa "I'm going to try to get some sleep". She gets up and heads toward her room.

When they go shopping Rika finds a sky blue satin dress that goes over one shoulder and has a slit that goes halfway up her thigh. She shifted to her Calif girl coloring to go shopping and the pale blue looked beautiful on her tan and highlighted her blue eyes.

In the days leading up to the party, Rika spent as much time as she could with her brother, Kurt. Telling him about her experiences with their shared mother and his father, Azazael. Even though they were both part of the X-Men at the same time and she was the one who saved him, Raven never told him that she was his mother.

Rika told him about the first time she met her own father who she hadn't known anything about until Hank analysed her genetics. Rika explained why she could never be part of the X-Men again but at least she knew where to find him.

Kurt asked if she planned to stay with the Avengers but she told him about the drama with Bucky and how she didn't want to cause problems with another team.

Kurt was confused "Isn't Bucky the one with the metal arm? He's always staring at you."

Rika chuckled "He's just trying to figure out how to kill me."

Kurt looked even more confused "It not an aggressive or hateful stare at all. I think he might like you"

"Kurt, my sweet brother. I guarantee that's not the case. But it's getting late and I need my beauty sleep if I'm going to bewitch all of the men at the party"

Kurt gave her a rib crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek "Good night sister, I'm so glad to have met you"

#bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc

[ibijau]

Futures past pt1 / On AO3

Nie Huaisang, sitting cross legged on his bed, tilted his head. It was a rather warm early evening in spring, and he had been getting ready for bed, so he was wearing only his inner clothes, and his hair was done in quick and messy braids so they wouldn’t get tangled during the night. Since he hadn’t been expecting anyone save perhaps his brother, if Nie Mingjue felt in the mood to shout at him for skipping practice again, his room was an awful mess, the floor covered in copies of some prints he’d bought recently. Tasteful prints, at least, not that it would have shocked his visitor too much if it had been porn, he guessed.

“I think I should scream,” Nie Huaisang said without conviction.

“But you won’t because you’re too curious,” Nie Huaisang retorted.

At least, Nie Huaisang thought that was himself. The man who had suddenly appeared in the middle of his room had his eyes, his nose, his lips, his general shape of face, even if his jaw was much sharper. He dressed well, in the sort of ornate styles Nie Huaisang absolutely would do if his brother weren’t forcing him to be reasonable, had a gorgeous fan in his hand, and wore an elaborate guan in his hair, the perfect picture of a rich and refined scholar. He didn’t even bother carrying a sabre, which Nie Huaisang found very satisfying for some reason.

“I don’t have time to play games,” the older man announced, opening his fan with an elegant yet disdainful gesture that his younger self hoped to reproduce someday. He supposed he would, in time. “I am you, from the future. A little over twenty years, if you must know, and it is not a pretty sight here. Some people are going to make a mess of things and while I’ve done what was needed to right every wrong, I don’t see why I shouldn’t try to prevent those wrongs.”

Nie Huaisang hunched up, one elbow on his leg, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t think you’re me. I wouldn’t ever put that much effort into anything. Good try on the disguise though. It’s a bit rude you didn’t make me taller, but it is a good detail, it really sells it.”

The man threw him a disgusted look. “Sometimes, I understand why da-ge ended up like this,” he muttered. “I really was insufferable. Listen up. When you were seven, you stole da-ge’s favourite robes, the set he always wore to go to conferences. You thought they were the prettiest thing you’d ever seen, and you wanted to try them on and pretend you were, against all evidence, as great as da-ge. You wore them for less than an incense stick’s time before dropping ink on them. They were completely ruined, in spite of your efforts, so you just burned them.”

Nie Huaisang startled so badly he half fell on his side, before scrambling toward the back of his bed, suddenly terrified. That incident happened years before, and he’d never told anyone. Nie Mingjue had been furious for weeks. To that day, Nie Huaisang still didn’t know how he hadn’t been discovered… but it was something only he knew, something he’d never shared with anyone.

He stared at this cold, distant man in front of him, with his venomous eyes and disdainful air, and didn’t like what he saw. How could that be his future?

Guessing his thoughts, the man smiled.

“Da-ge dies in a few years,” he announced, startling Nie Huaisang again. “It’s tragic, and cruel, and we’re going to do everything we can to avoid it. You’re going to help, of course.”

So shocked he couldn’t breathe, Nie Huaisang weakly nodded.

It seemed impossible that his brother could ever die, least of all that he might die in the twenty years to come. He would have said the same of his father once, certainly, but his father was well into his sixties already, and anyway he was murdered so it was not the same.

Nie Huaisang gasped and grabbed his pillow, hugging it tight against his body for comfort, as if he weren’t already fifteen and far too old for that.

“When you say da-ge dies, you mean… he’s going to be killed by someone,” Nie Huaisang guessed, curling up on himself, hoping to be wrong.

The expression on the face of that man he would become softened.

“Maybe you’re not hopeless,” he said. “Maybe all I needed was a chance to do a little more… Yes, he’s going to be murdered. Or he would be murdered. We won’t let it happen. You won’t let it happen. I’m only here for a little time, it’s not easy to come here, but I’m hoping to return in a few months if all goes well.”

Something relaxed in Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. It seemed his brother’s death wasn’t something that would happen in the very near future then. That was a relief, when Nie Huaisang was about to leave home and go study for a year in the Cloud Recesses. From all the way down south, it would have been difficult to protect Nie Mingjue.

“So, what am I supposed to do then?” Nie Huaisang asked, still clutching his pillow. “You’d know I’m not much good at anything, so why aren’t you trying to warn da-ge directly? Oh, or am I the only one who can see you?”

“I’m… not sure if others can see me,” the man admitted, hiding behind his fan at that admission, exactly as Nie Huaisang did when embarrassed. “And I don’t have enough time to experiment. Besides, da-ge is so stubborn, he wouldn’t trust a stranger so easily. He can’t be blackmailed over a burned robe.”

“Rude!”

“That’s what you get for calling me short. Now come over here, grab something to write. I don’t want you to forget any of this, and I know how your memory is. Hurry!”

Nie Huaisang reluctantly let go of his pillow, and hopped down from the bed, grumbling the whole time. What was the point of being sent to the Cloud Recesses if he ended up becoming a man with such dreadful manners?

He grabbed a brush, hastily prepared some ink, and sat on the floor before looking up at his future self, waiting for instruction like a sullen child forced to listen in class.

“The first thing you need to know,” the man before him said, “is that there’s going to be a war with Qishan Wen.”

“Duh,” Nie Huaisang retorted, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t the brightest person in the world, but even he could guess as much. “Is that how da-ge dies?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if even Wen Ruohan could do anything to him!” his older self said, with a mix of disdain and pride. “Da-ge becomes a war hero, of course. But that war is what will eventually cause his death. Not that it matters yet, you have about two years and a half before the war starts, so…”

Nie Huaisang dropped his brush with a gasp, splattering ink over his sheet of paper.

“Two years? The war is in just two years?”

His older self clicked his tongue impatiently.

“Focus! This is irrelevant right now! What matters is taking measure so certain things don’t happen during that war. Now, the most important would be…”

He paused, looking down at Nie Huaisang. The longer he stared, the more annoyed the older man appeared. That look of frustration was one Nie Huaisang was quite used to, especially coming from his elders, but also sometimes from people of his own generation. He usually didn’t mind, though just a week before one kid half his age had looked at him like that over his posture during sabre practice, and that had stung a little, to be honest.

More often than not, people would accompany that exasperated stare with a ‘what will we do with you?’ and though his older self didn’t say the words, he was clearly thinking them.

“There’s a boy, living in Yunping City, named Meng Yao,” the man announced, before giving a number of details about that boy, such as the name of his mother, the address where he might be found, his age, his looks, and plenty other things. Nie Huaisang wrote it all down, and even doodled a very quick portrait based on that description, to which his older self nodded, looking nearly approving for a moment. Before Nie Huaisang could enjoy that, the man turned grim again. “You have to find this boy, and make sure he doesn’t join Lanling Jin. Do you understand? No matter what, Meng Yao cannot join Lanling Jin. If he does, there will be great risk to da-ge.”

There was an odd inflection on that cannot. Or at least, it was odd to hear it coming from himself, because it was the tone of voice people had when saying it’d be a shame if Wen Ruohan choked on his next meal, or if Jin Guangshan’s dick got chopped off by a demon on a Night Hunt.

But that Meng Yao was just a boy, just a few months older than Nie Huaisang himself. Even if he became a danger in later times, for now there was no way he could harm anyone. And even if he couldn’t join the Jin, there might be other sects, if he was so determined to be a cultivator. Maybe he could even be brought into Qinghe Nie, if he had real talent. Nie Mingjue didn’t care much what people’s origins were as long as they worked hard, though it was an opinion not everyone in the clan shared. It’d be a great way to kill two birds with one stone.

“Is he going to be a problem soon?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Only, it’s not like I can travel on my own, and Yunping City is pretty far from Gusu anyway, and…”

“A few weeks after your arrive, Jiang zongzhu invites Lan Qiren and his nephews to help him with a creature that causes problems near Yunping City,” his older self announced, lazily fanning himself. “I didn’t go, personally, but I’m sure you could find a way to go along. You’ll have to, it’s your best chance. Speaking of which…” he closed his fan with a sharp gesture and pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. “You have to get Lan Xichen to trust you in the future, so take this year in Gusu as a chance and become the best friend he’s ever had.”

Nie Huaisang nearly dropped his brush again and grimaced.

“Oh. Do I really have to? I mean, he’s so…”

He made a vague hand gesture, words failing him to describe Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad person. That wasn’t it. He was, in fact, very good, everyone said so. He was smart, and polite, and well educated, and amazing with cultivation, and with martial arts, and… and he was just so boring. He was, without a doubt, the most boring person Nie Huaisang had ever met. He was always too careful when speaking, too serious, too perfect, too much exactly how grown ups thought boys their age should act. He was an old man’s idea of a young man. He was really, really boring and while Nie Huaisang was very glad his brother had at least one friend, he was very judgmental toward Nie Mingjue for having chosen such a person for a companion.

If his older self’s dark expression was anything to go by, Lan Xichen’s personality didn’t look like it improved much in the future.

“I wouldn’t do this if there was another choice,” the man said. “But if da-ge couldn’t properly burn bridges with san-ge, then it’s pointless to try driving him away from er-ge, they’re too close. So you’ll have to do what’s needed to save da-ge, and become friends with Lan Xichen. It is vital. We’re going to do what we can so da-ge doesn’t die, but if it still comes to pass, you’ll need allies and I suppose that’s at least one thing he might be good for. Let’s see if he really meant what he said that time,” Nie Huaisang’s future self muttered somberly. “I don’t expect anything to come of this, but it can’t hurt.”

“But I don’t want to be friends with him,” Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“Good, because he won’t be your friend,” the man retorted coldly. “Don’t get attached to him, he’s not worth it. But make sure to become someone he’ll fully trust. Make yourself dearer to him than even da-ge is. Nothing less than that will do.”

That sounded even more difficult and boring than actually becoming friends with Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang thought. He pouted at the perspective of such a daunting task, wondering if he really loved his brother enough to put so much effort into saving him.

“I don’t even know how to become close to Lan gongzi!” he whined. “He doesn’t like anything interesting, he’s the most boring person in the world! How do I…”

“Figure it out!” his older self snapped. “Do you think I’d be here if I knew how to deal with him? Besides, I’m running out of time already. I’ll try to return to you a month after Qingming, when the spell has recharged. It should be before the Night Hunt in Yunping City, but you’ll need to have made progress with Lan Xichen already. Remember that we’re doing this for da-ge!”

Before Nie Huaisang could protest, the man standing before him suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace of his presence. It would have been easy to think it nothing but a dream, if not for that detailed list of information about that Meng Yao from Yunping City. Even like that, it really was unsettling, and Nie Huaisang stayed frozen in place for a long while, kneeling on the floor, staring at a list about a boy he was maybe supposed to kill. It seemed like complete madness, and maybe he should have ran to his brother, explained everything to him, except…

Except there had been such pain in his older self’s voice every time he spoke of Nie Mingjue, and his anger at having failed to protect their brother in his own life had been obvious. Something had happened there. Something he hadn’t even explained, Nie Huaisang suddenly realised. His older self hadn’t told him how their brother died, and how could he convince Nie Mingjue that he might be in danger when he didn’t even know who would strike him, or when?

It might be better to wait then. After all, Nie Huaisang’s older self had said that Nie Mingjue would be a great hero in a future war, and that war wouldn’t start for over two more years. Until then, Nie Huaisang might as well try to meet that Meng Yao when he had the chance, and he would also (he shivered in distaste) try to see what could be done about Lan Xichen. Having come to that conclusion, Nie Huaisang carefully folded the sheet of paper containing his notes about Meng Yao, and put it away. He then cleaned his brush, put some order around him, and finally went to sleep.

His last thought was that next time, when his older self returned, he would definitely ask more details about Nie Mingjue’s death.

-

In the days that followed that encounter with his future self, Nie Huaisang made efforts to be a better brother. He still wasn’t sure how much he believed about that encounter he’d had, but it certainly made him quite sentimental to realise that Nie Mingjue would die someday. It was clear that there would be a war soon after all, whether it happened when his future self said it would or not, and people certainly tended to die during conflicts.

So as he finished preparing for his rapidly approaching stay in Gusu, Nie Huaisang tried to fully enjoy his brother’s company and commit every moment spent together to memory, in case something happened.

A very noble sentiment, except his brother was a complete pain in the ass.

If Nie Huaisang hugged him, Nie Mingjue asked him what he’d broken this time, or what favour he was about to request. If Nie Huaisang suggested they spent more time together, Nie Mingjue just took him to the training grounds and forced him to practice the sabre, or even worse tried to spar with him, which was cruel and barbaric.

Nie Mingjue was the absolute worst person in the entire world, and while Nie Huaisang was still going to try his best to keep him alive, he wasn’t sure why.

Because Nie Mingjue was so unbearable and annoying and unable to appreciate his brother’s immense kindness, Nie Huaisang found it a relief of sorts when he finally left for the Cloud Recesses.

The trip itself was nothing memorable. Nie Huaisang spent most of it wishing he had a golden core so he could fly his sabre and go faster than this carriage, or trying to figure out how he was supposed to befriend the oh-so-boring Lan Xichen. By the time he and the disciple accompanying him reached Gusu, he still hadn’t found an answer to that problem. He would have to figure it out on the fly then.

The carriage was left at the foot of the mountain where the Cloud Recesses laid, and the long trek by foot started. Nie Huaisang, adverse to any unnecessary physical effort, found that he didn’t actually mind too much going up the mountain. The landscape was so exquisite there, every turn of the path revealing something worth painting. On the few occasions he’d been there before to accompany his brother at conferences, he’d always admired how Gusu Lan had found such an amazing place to live in, and promised himself he’d make the best of things if he ever got to come study there. He would have forgotten to bring his sabre if Nie Mingjue hadn’t packed it for him, but his luggage was full of paper of the highest quality, and it wouldn’t be used to take notes.

At the gate of the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang and his brother’s disciple had to wait to be brought in. Because he was a somewhat more important guest than some of the other visiting disciples, Nie Huaisang was greeted by Lan Qiren in person, his eldest nephew in tow.

While Lan Qiren guided him inside and explained a number of rules he didn’t intend to follow, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help observing Lan Xichen with more attention than he’d ever done before. He was somewhat handsome, if you liked that sort. A little tall and gangly, though it was less jarring when he wasn’t hanging out with Nie Mingjue who was older and had fully finished growing. Nie Huaisang figured that hanging out with him would at least give him something nice to look at, even if he didn’t expect the two of them to ever find much to talk about.

“And this is where you will be staying,” Lan Qiren announced when they arrived in front of a small house. “We will let you get settled and rest from your trip. If you have any requests…”

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang said without thinking, then turned to look at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Since they had never spoken much before, Nie Huaisang had of course expected that Lan Xichen would be a little surprised over such a request. But Lan Xichen wasn’t just surprised, he was shocked, his eyes opening wide and his face growing pale, as if Nie Huaisang had just grown a second head and announced he’d be feeding on the blood of infants. Lan Xichen’s polite smile even dropped for a moment, though of course it quickly returned. In a moment, he had regained perfect control of himself, but Nie Huaisang was still puzzled and entertained by that extreme reaction.

“I’m glad Nie gongzi thinks well of me,” Lan Xichen said calmly. “But I am sure I can find someone better suited to give you a tour.”

“But I want it to be you,” Nie Huaisang insisted, pretending not to notice the other Nie disciples glaring at him for already causing problems on his first day. “It’d be nice if it were you. Da-ge always says you’re so clever and knows so many things, so I really want you to be my guide.”

Lan Xichen appeared to hesitate. Nie Huaisang braced himself for rejection. He hadn’t expected to have his caprice granted anyway, and just wanted to throw it out there that he was going to be pestering Lan Xichen in the future. Then, to his surprise, the older boy nodded.

“Very well. I will give you a tour this afternoon, Nie gongzi,” Lan Xichen said. “I have no urgent obligations, and it is the least I can do for a friend’s relative. Unless shufu has objections?”

Lan Qiren had none. The Nie were left to settle down, promised lunch would be brought to them soon, and then Lan Xichen would come in the early afternoon to show Nie Huaisang around, while someone else would do the same for the other Nie disciples. It was a great plan, a great occasion for Nie Huaisang to gain Lan Xichen’s favour as instructed… and it sounded impossibly boring.

All too soon, the time for that tour came. Nie Huaisang, unhappy with their too simple accomodations and the unappealing meal they had been served, was not in a great mood when Lan Xichen knocked on the door. He had been in the Cloud Recesses less than half a day, and already the place disappointed him.

To his credit, Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad guide. He made sure to match his pace to Nie Huaisang’s as they walked, he had something to explain about nearly every building, and patiently repeated the most important rules of life in the Cloud Recesses which Nie Huaisang had ignored when Lan Qiren gave them. It was easier to listen to Lan Xichen than to Lan Qiren anyway, there was a certain warmth to his voice that his uncle simply lacked. Lan Xichen could probably have made a lecture sound like a conversation. It would have been a very lovely time, if Nie Huaisang had cared about any of that, which he didn’t. Everything in the Cloud Recesses was about cultivation and rules, which was nearly as boring as the Unclean Realm where everything was about cultivation and martial arts.

“And what do you do for fun here?” Nie Huaisang desperately asked after a while when Lan Xichen explained that a certain building was meant to enhance the effects of meditation.

“The library is that way,” Lan Xichen announced.

“Does it have anything fun, or is it only cultivation treaties?”

“We collect poetry and history treaties as well,” Lan Xichen said. “And music sheets, of course,” he added after a moment, looking uncomfortable. “I… are you much interested in music, Nie gongzi?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “No, but I guess it’s better than cultivation, as far as fun things go. I’m supposed to learn the guqin at some point, but it’s hard to find the time, and da-ge prefers that I focus on the sabre.”

“Qinghe Nie has traditionally been more focused on martial arts,” Lan Xichen noted. “Though since you are here, perhaps you might enjoy trying different things. You are here to learn after all.”

Nie Huaisang stared at the older boy with surprise. Up until then, Lan Xichen had never seemed to care what Nie Huaisang did or didn’t do, and he never contradicted Nie Mingjue whenever his friend complained about having a lazy little brother who wasn’t interested in the things he ought to have been interested in. Without being sure, Nie Huaisang suspected that Lan Xichen thought him a little stupid, and just not very skilled in general.

“Maybe it’s worth a try,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I do like music a lot. My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

“Is that so,” Lan Xichen weakly replied, turning very pale, as if he might faint.

“Lan gongzi, are you unwell?”

“It’s nothing important,” Lan Xichen said, smiling again in that annoying manner of his. “Let’s continue walking. I think you really might like the library, and then… it wouldn’t be part of a normal tour, but would you like me to show you the way to the back hills if we have time? I remember your brother mentioning that you like birds, and there are many to be seen there.”

“That would be lovely,” Nie Huaisang agreed, surprised and delighted by that offer. It was likely that Nie Mingjue had just been complaining about that particular hobby of his, as he so often did, but if Lan Xichen had translated that into something positive, Nie Huaisang was glad. “Do you like birds as well, Lan gongzi?”

“I’ve never paid them much attention,” Lan Xichen admitted. “I suppose they are fine creatures.”

That, clearly, was all he had to say on the subject. It was a very boring answer, Nie Huaisang thought. But then, Lan Xichen really was a boring person, so that was no surprise. Nie Huaisang thus dropped the topic, and forced himself to pay some degree of attention as Lan Xichen resumed talking about the history of the Cloud Recesses.

At least, the library really did seem quite interesting, aside from all the cultivation texts. And since they actually managed to check the back hills for a little bit before dinner, Nie Huaisang had the pleasant surprise to find that there were a great many birds there, as well as plenty of spaces to explore, and quite a few vistas to paint.

Getting along with Lan Xichen was going to be so boring, but at least the rest of his stay could be turned into something quite fun.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #double time travel #jau writes

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 21)

masterlist

the secrets came to light 1

The ‘click-clack’ of the metal boots was heard before a raging female came in the view. The heroes of different ages sitting around the conference table watched with a batted breath as she entered and stomped right towards the glow stick of the league.

 Hal was having a good day, there was no pending mission of the league or ova and he had a rare free time to himself. That was until the raging Amazonian came.

 With her fist directly to his gut, the chaos started. Red hood couldn’t hide and burst out laughing at the neon glow stick. Some younger heroes also laughed although trying to cover it up with coughs.

 Wonder woman looked down at the green lantern with a growl. She couldn’t believe when she had a conversation about the continuously ignored situation, with something so sacred in the circulation. And the fault was on their side.

 How could you do this!? How could you ignore them?! I knew you were idiot but I didn’t knew you were this stupid! To think you ruled them out as mere prank call!

 Now, they all turned serious. It looked like that Hal had received a call to justice league headquarters and ruled it as prank call when the call was serious and now the Amazonian was raging.

 Wonder woman….

 Batman called making the said hero calm though barely. Without a word he asked for clarification.

 Yesterday I received a call about Paris situation……………

 Wait…..    Hal straighten up, suddenly remembering the event.        ……..you mean to say that call about bunch of magic jewelry, kids dressed up in animal costumes and evil butterfly…………that was all true!

 Yes Hal!        Diana hissed, her poorly disguised glare was enough to shut him up.

 Someone from the younger heroes raised their hand. Beast boy gestured towards green lantern.

 You know, the way he put it, it did seem like a bunch of non-sense.

 Diana face-palmed loudly before groaning. She questioned her sanity before looking at them.

 It’s because it was not properly narrated. The first call was four years ago. When it all started. The kids were chosen out of whim and they had to learn it on their own. Now I got a call from the new member with new problems that I feel like I should tear my hair out!

 Wonder woman panted as tried to catch her breath.

 Excuse me, I’m emotionally distorted.

 Hey, what was the magic jewelry again?

 Aquaman asked slowly.

 Miraculous.

 Holy shit! Yeah, you messed up Hal!

 Aquaman cursed as he took Diana’s side making other leaguers raise an eyebrow.

 We would like some explanation if you want us to help.

 Batman growled as he stared at the Atlantian and Amazonian. They looked at each other before sighing again.

 Alright. But first you need to know the origin considering you don’t know the importance of such sacred artifact.      Diana begins. Well, miraculous are magical jewelry bounded with tiny gods to sustain their existence. We call these gods Kwami. Kwamis have existed since the beginning of the universe. Being abstract creatures, each Kwami is formed whenever a new idea, concept, or emotion comes into existence in the universe, such as creation, destruction, balance etc. However, tangible creatures, like humans, could not see or sense a Kwami; so the Kwamis could only roam the universe without communicating with them.

 That was until a mage successfully made magic jewelry where Kwami inhibit and communicate with humans.     Arthur continued.       We call them miraculous. By inhibiting them, these tiny gods bestow their power to their wearers.

 Among many the strongest are the creation and destruction. Using them both gives you one wish regardless of what it is. You can ask for peace or to bring someone to life or overwrite a timeline if you want.

 Many speedsters perked up but their next words send chills to their bodies.

 That is if you are will to pay the equal price. Ask to resurrect the dead one and you might lose your loved ones.

 That what sank Atlantis.

 And the world war……

 The great draught…..

 Pompeii…..

 ……..

…..

…..

 There was utter silence before wonder woman started again.

 Considering you guys have been reading it as natural disaster and human greed started a war, it was just a cover up so the existence of such sacred artifacts remain hidden. If it falls to wrong hands, it will goodbye lives and hello destructions.

 There was pin drop silence, many looked uneasy as they tried to digest the information.

 So now they are in Paris?

 Normally they should be with the order of the guardians, but if what I was told correct then the order had fallen and only one guardian remains…………….

 Is there a problem?

 Yes……….because now the guardian is 17 years old child who is also wielding miraculous of creation.

 There was another dramatic silence before all chaos started.

 What do you mean 17 years old?! Do you mean they were 13 when they all started!

 This is non-sense father! Those kids have their own city and I can’t patrol without any supervisor!

 Holy fuck! Those were kids! Who the hell chose children with no training to be heroes!

��I think you forgot baby bird, this is exactly B took us in.

 They can change timeline!

 The chaos stopped when batman cleared his throat.

 Should we offer our help to them?

 Batman asked wonder woman who quickly shook her head.

 While it might be the right thing to do it isn’t the right choice. The enemy pry on the negative emotions to mind control you.

 So it’s better to gather information instead.

 How about I show you the calls we get first?

  Wonder woman asked before turning towards the main computer.

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#miraculous ladybug #One Step Back #two steps forward #justice league #wonder woman is angry #batman is scary #miraculous

[zawasscarf]

Void - Keigo Takami/Hawks One-shot

Warnings : none/ reader is gender-neutral.

Genre: angst! i got inspired from a tiktok I saw, the link for it is here.

Prespective: second person

Synopsis: Hawk's and you have been broken up after villians revealed his secrets to you, but having no time to drown in sadness, he forces himself to attend a press conference, where he reunites with you...but it doesn't go as well as imagined.

Void. Empty. Still. That's how he would describe the feeling in his heart when he woke up to his empty, cold bed. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, pumping blood into his veins, reminding him that he was alive for another day. That he had to suffer for another day. That he was just existing, barely even alive.

He lazily rolled from one side to another, his eyes gazing up at the alarm clock he had knocked off the counter in a fit of frustration when it started ringing early in the morning. Normally, he wouldn't need an alarm clock, knowing that you'd wake him up by peppering kisses all over his face. Knowing that you'd lay on top of him, and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he is fully awake and motivated for the day. But you weren't there. You weren't, so he had to use this stupid, lifeless machine to wake him up. It displayed the hour. 12:30. He had to go. He was already late for the conference he had to be attending. So he got up, and headed to the bathroom, dodging the empty bottles of sake on the ground and the dirty laundry piles that were looking more like mountains. The apartment was never left in such a messy, dirty state before. Carpets stained, laundry gone unwashed for days, bed un-tidy, used plates in the sink, piling on top of one another. Hawks was for-sure forgetful when it came to his laundry and his chorus, but you would always remind him. And with you it was easy to do his chorus, even if you would be doing most of the work, while he sat there, distracting you rather than helping.

Hastily, he splashed water across his face and brushed his teeth. Then he looked into the mirror, and ran a hand into his hair. He looked miserable. Facial hair untrimmed, overgrown blonde hair on the top of his head, eyes worn-out, wings a dull colour of red. He couldn't remember the last time he looked presentable. He wasn't the only one who noticed this, the press also did. They noticed everything, that's why he didn't want to be seen in public. That's why he has been locked in his skyline complex for days, only going out in complete disguise to buy food or get groceries.

He dragged himself out of the bathroom, and moved to the way-too small pile of clothes thrown on the floor. Getting dressed in his hero outfit, he put his hand on his back to reach for the zipper.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to zip up my bodysuit, baby bird. What does it look like?"

"It looks like a chicken is flailing trying to scratch it's back."

"Well, if you stop being so sassy and help me, I wouldn't be flailing. Come on, I'm going to be late for work."

"Maybe I want you to be late.."

"Oh?"

He found himself staring at his messy bed. Where you would stare up at him, wearing nothing but his shirt, trying to get him back to bed even though you were the one to wake him up. For a moment, he could vividly see you. See both of you. Sitting on the bed as you helped him with his zipper, laughing when he pulled you into his lap to kiss you, to tickle you and shower you with love. He could still feel your tender hands on his tinted cheeks, caressing them oh so softly, telling him that he was the world's most wonderful boyfriend, that you would love him until the stars die, until the sky falls, until the world ends, and maybe even then, you wouldn't stop loving him.

His heart clenched, making it hard to breath. His eyes were on the verge of welling up with tears. "No," He thought, putting on his pants and his matching jacket. He had to go and say something. He couldn't hide like this any longer. Endeavor wasn't good with the press, and as the number two pro hero, as the charming one, he had to make up for it. The one that could handel all the talk, while also being an inspiration to everyone. He had to pull himself together. It's been too long. He had to accept that he isn't going to see you anymore.

Slipping on his black sturdy boots and fixing his hair and eyeliner, he opened the window and flew out, a few of his long red feathers fell, leaving a trace of him on every inch of the city. He looked down. The streets were busy, but peaceful. Buzzing with open shops, with traffic, kids were laughing, it was so tranquil, considering there was a villian attack on this part of town only two days ago. He bit his lip. He wasn't able to help that day. Too drunken and heartbroken to even pick up his cellphone. He felt like such a failure. He failed the pro heros that day. He failed the civilians. He failed you. He failed you, and now he was living in a limbo. A limbo that only you could get him out of, but you wouldn't. And he wouldn't blame you. He deserved this. He was a selfish bastard. He was too secretive. He was. And god, if he could just turn back time..for just one day..

Kids pointed up at the blue sky at the winged hero. They wore shirts with his face on it, one of them was even wearing a costume like his. They were waving, waving and waving, praying that he notices them. Hawks waved back with a slight smile on his sleep-deprived face. Like little chipmunks, they squealed, being noticed by him was a dream of theirs.

"Hey, would you ever want kids?"

"With you?"

"Of course with me. Anyone else you're seeing behind my back that's offering you to have kids?"

"Shut up," You laughed whole-heartedly, and put a hand on his chest, letting him carry you as both of you flew over the glimmering city. "But the answer is yes. I would love to have kids with you. Maybe a baby girl or a baby boy. It'll be our little cozy family."

"Little? I was thinking maybe we could have seven kids. I am ready to give you an entire football team."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant, Keigo."

"The process would be worth it, though."

His smile fell. The memories. The talks you shared when he picked you up and flew you over the city. God, they always meant so much to him. He always tried to linger a little longer in the sky, to share a few more laughs. To share a few more conversations. He lived for moments like that. Moments where it felt like time stopped. Where it was only you and him that existed in this vast universe. Moments where he could hold you close to his chest, breath in your scent and perfume. Fly with you up in the sky. Fluster you. Cuddle you. Hug you. Kiss you.

Forcing himself out of his misery, he landed down on the roof of the building he was suppose to be interviewed infront of. The press were already huddled up at the front door. There were civilians too, waiting for him to appear. He could see Miruko, Snipe, Endeavour and Gang Orca, all ignoring the press asking them about his whereabouts. Miruko had her phone pressed against one of her bunny ears. She was calling him. Hawks swiped left on the call, and took in a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to forget about you for an hour. Forget about how his heart was in shreds, how his rib cage was suffocating his lungs, how his brain felt all jumbled. He fixed his wings, calling all his feathers back to him, and then he flew down to the side of the building.

The camera shutters increased when he emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. Journalists squeezed each other, all spewing out questions for him already. Microphones were shoved at his face, but he deflected them, doing his best to give them his infamous million-dollar worthy smile, trying to pretend that the sadness in his eyes wasn't as visible as the sun on this summer day.

"Where were you?" The booming voice of Endevour cut his tracks. He looked up at the larger, much taller pro hero, and his smile disappeared. "I over-slept." His answer short and dry. That made the line of standing pro-heros all tense up. This wasn't like him. He would usually tease Endeavour. Tell him to take it easy. That the press wouldn't go anywhere even if he appeared three hours later. Not today.

Hawks made his way up the stage, and stood infront of the mic. His playful voice was dull, and he looked far more serious than when he first walked in.

"Alright, folks. I'll be taking all your questions today, but in order. I won't know what to answer if you all throw your questions at me." Hawk's sharp, golden rhinestone eyes scanned the crowd. So many people. So many people wouldn't make him anxious, but he could feel something was off. He felt..watched. Like someone was staring right through his soul. Goosebumps raised on the nape of his neck, but he chose to ignore it. It had to be nothing, everyone was staring at him all the time anyway. "Okay," He pointed at a reporter with dark hair in the very front. "let's start with you. Go ahead—"

"Hawks, if it's not a bother, can you tell us why you did not assist with the fire attacks two days ago?"

He tensed up. Not from the question. From a feeling. He felt something rumble in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was because he didnt have a bite to eat. There was no way he was feeling uncomfortable just because a bunch of reporters were looking at him. Or maybe it was the three glasses sake he had yesterday before heading to bed. "Uh," He paused, trying to think of a quick excuse. "I was..out of town."

Lying. That what he resorted to. No wonder you left him. He lied to you. He lied to you and hid everything about himself from you. He hid everything, and now you were gone.

"Next question." He pointed at another reporter. "Who do you think is the suspect of these attacks, Hawks?"

"The League of Villians." The answer came short and quick. He knew who was behind those attacks. "They may not seem much of a threat as Overhaul or the nomus Endeavour and I fought, but they are a dangerous organisation and I am sure they had something to do with this." Moving to a question to another, he answered almost a hundred questions, all of them filled with lies and excuses. He couldn't go through two questions without lying. What could he do? Tell them that the reason he has been MIA is that he was on his floor every morning, sobbing his heart out on his lost love, that he searched the streets every night for his lover to apologise. To make you come home, to him.

Hawks pointed at a tall man, who had his hand raised at the back. Oddly enough, the man wore a dark hoodie and sunglasses. The hood was up, and he was looking at the ground, as if to hide his identity. He didn't have a camera, a crew, or even a microphone, but his voice was still loud for Hawks to hear his question.

"You haven't been seen with the Pro Hero: Light Monarch for a few weeks now. Nor has they been seen in public. Mind telling us why..." The man looked up. Hawk's face fell, as he saw those fiery, glowing blue eyes staring back at him. His breathing rapidly increased, his chest rose and fell in unrythmic ways. His hands clenched the sides of the microphone stand, until his knuckles turned white. "..wing hero, Hawks?" The mockery in his voice. He was enraging him on purpose. He was mocking him. Mocking him for being unable to protect your relationship. For being unable to protect you.

Other reporters picked up his question and started twisting it into different questions. Ranging from 'Has your relationship fell apart?' to 'Is Light Monarch even a hero?', but all he could focus on was Dabi. Dabi, who was secretly recording all of this. Dabi, who was the main reason your realtionship fell apart. Dabi, who he strived to make suffer for what he did to him. Hawk's eyes were so fixated on Dabi, that when someone nudged him away, he immediately looked over to them.

They were wearing the villain's long coat, along with a hoodie similar to Dabi's. They were nudging him away, trying to make him move out the crowd. Dabi only put an arm around them, pulling them close to his lean body. That's when Hawks caught a glimpse of their face.

And that's when everyone saw the winged hero unfold.

He leaned into the mic, and closed his eyes. Possibilities flooding his mind, clouding his senses. Why were you here? Why were you wearing Dabi's coat? Did you come here just to see him? Why was Dabi holding you so close to him? Why does he have his arms on you like that?

"Because I'm an idiot." He spoke into the mic. A hush fell on the crowd, and you looked up. Both your eyes met, you could sense the hurt in his eyes, you could see the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "Because I hid information about myself that I shouldn't have. Because I slipped and everyone was watching me. Because everyone just couldn't let us be." Hawks closed his eyes.

For a moment, a flash appeared before his eyes. It was you. You in all your beauty and grace. You comforting him after a long day of work. You smiling and laughing at his corny jokes. You running your fingers through hair and untangling it for him. You kissing his bruises. You sitting on his bed, tinkering with something you found in his house. You holding him after a nightmare. You. All he could think about was you. How your lips felt against his. How your foreheads touched whenever you finished kissing. How your hands felt so warm holding his. How he was a lucky bastard.

"So.." head raised, the first few strand of his hair falling into his tear filled eyes. He choked on air, his lip quivering. "So, baby bird, I am sorry for being such a selfish bastard." His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. You were staring at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. The eyes that he would stare at for hours, without feeling a hint of boredom. "I am sorry for hiding the truth. "His voice got louder, louder and louder until he was yelling. "I am sorry for letting you go so easily. I am sorry for hurting you!"

"Hawks—"

"Bastards, all of you." He spat out, looking directly at Dabi and the frozen crowd of shocked journalists. They were the reason. They were the reason you weren't with him. They were the reason your laugh and your smile were stolen away from him. If they could've just let him explain.

"Songbird, I love you." Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes that were full to the brim with tears were now spilling your emotions into view. Dabi only noticed when your figure started shaking in his arms. "Hey, let's go.." He tried to drag you away, but you wouldn't budge. Keigo was staring right at you, unfolding into a mess, a crumb of a man he once was. Tears streaming down his handsome face, eyeliner ruined. Your heart felt crushed. Like it was an ornament that was knocked down by a carless child. You couldn't imagine what he was feeling, but you were sure that he wouldn't be able to handel all that pain alone. So you stepped to the front subconciously, and if it weren't for Dabi's hands around your waist, you would've ran right over and reunited with your lover.

"I love you." He repeated, desperate. Memories were flashing right before his eyes. Your first meeting in that grocery store infront of UA. Your first kiss under the moonlight during a patrol. Your first dance. Your first date. Your cuddles on the couch in winter. Your odd sleeping positions in summer. Moments. The way you would lean into his chest when he sat you on his lap. The way you liked him to tuck his wings around your body because it felt warm and you like the feeling of feathers against your skin. "I love you! I love you!"

"Let's get out of here." Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed just a bit, not too forcefully. You were surprised by his gentleness, but you couldn't take your eyes off him. "I love you. I love you.." He was staring at you with such desperation, such longing, such regret. You didn't want to forgive him, you tried not to. But you couldn't. You couldn't, because he made it so hard. He made it so hard to hate him.

"Till the stars die and till the sky falls, remember?" His voice was much lower now. He was leaning over the stand so much that it almost fell over. You clasped a hand on your mouth, and let out a silent sob. You could feel everyone's eyes on you. Cameras were pointed at you. That's when you looked away, after giving Keigo a long, parting look. That's when you followed Dabi into the crowd.

Hawks watched as you walked away, back given to him. He wanted to move, he wanted to follow you, he was telling every limb on his body to move, but he couldn't. He looked down at his body. It was glowing. Glowing with a white aura around it. You. You were using your quirk on him, forcing him in place, not letting him move and rescue you.

He didn't understand why. Why didn't you want him to rescue you now that you found each other again? Did you really loathe him that much? Did he really mess up that badly?

So, all he could do was helplessly watch you go. Watch you as you disappear into the crowd, with the flame user by your side, knowing that one day, you might reunite again.

And then when that time comes, he won't mess it up.

a/n: aaaaah! my first oneshot on tumblr. i hope you liked it. posting this is basically testing the waters, but i enjoyed it so i think I will keep writing on here!

#hawks x reader #wing hero hawks #hawks headcanons #hawks imagine #hawks one shot #boku no hero x reader #anime

[herbgerblin]

taako gets (very politely) kidnapped by the bird king p.2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Also now on Ao3!!

—

“Give us a moment,” Lup says, planting a leg between Taako and the King. She grabs the knob and very quickly slams the door before another word is spoken. In a fury, she grabs Taako by the shirt collar and hisses, “You have exactly ten seconds to explain to me what the fuck is going on before I call the cops.”

“You would never call the cops here and you know it,” Taako snaps back.

“Seven seconds.”

“Bird King. Wants me to marry him. Absolutely loaded.”

“What the hell, Taako?

Taako shrugs. “I don’t know? He just showed up! How do you think I’m supposed to react?”

“I don’t expect you to just leap out the door without a second thought for your own regard!”

“Did you miss the part about how I said he’s absolutely loaded? Look!” He holds up the gold coin still in his palm. “Just a handful of these could cover rent. Hell, we could buy a house! A big house!” 

Lup sighs and runs a hand over her forehead. “Okay, one: you are such a disaster gay. And two: that could be fool’s gold, Taako.”

“Already checked. Besides, fool’s gold has iron in it, and he’s very clearly fae.” He gestures at the door. “Also why would a king bother with fool’s anything? He magicked it out of the air. With birds, Lup! Birds!”

“Okay,” Lup sighs. “Let’s say I indulge your little romantic fantasy for a moment. Who’s to say he won’t make it disappear as soon as you’re gone? Hell, who’s to say he’s really the Bird King at all? He could be a wraith in disguise ready to devour your ass as soon as you get five feet away from the house!”

“Ha, vore!” Taako hisses, which earns him a kick in the leg.

“You know, I can still hear the both of you,” says the king’s muffled voice from outside the door.

Lup ignores him and lowers her tone. “I don’t care if some hot, well-dressed guy displaying untold magic has just shown up at our doorstep. I’m not letting you get dragged away like this!”

“I don’t see the point in arguing, Lup,” Taako whispers back. “I mean if he is the Bird King, I think he can do what he wants.”

“I don’t care if he’s the goddamn emperor penguin! He’s not kidnapping you to fulfill his dumb, royal purpose.”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t get picked to be the Bird Queen!”

“Enough of this,” says the voice beyond the door. Taako and Lup look up to see a flurry of feathers conjure forth just a few feet away from where they are both squished against the entrance. With a hail of wings and a screech of corvids, the man that was previously standing outside on the porch was now standing in the foyer of their own home. Crown, cape, bird and all.

“Hey!” Lup shouts, letting go of Taako’s shirt. Taako loses his balance and falls over with a yelp. “Aren’t you like, not supposed to be able to come into our home unless we invite you in or something?”

“I’m not a vampire,” Kravitz replies flatly. 

“He’s not a fucking vampire, Lup.” Taako says, picking himself up and patting down his disheveled hair.

“I do apologize for entering your home like this,” Kravitz says, with enough impatience to give his voice edge. “But we really should get going. It will be sunset in my kingdom soon, and I have duties to attend to.”

“Sorry about that, homie,” Taako says, shoving Lup with his arm. She grumbles at him. “Had to confer with the council before we get this show on the road.”

“Well then,” Kravitz says. “Forgive me for being...unfamiliar with your customs.” He looks so strange standing in the middle of their home. His clothes look new, hand crafted. But they also look a good century behind the modern tops and skinny jeans that Taako and Lup are wearing. Compared to their humble, mostly second hand furniture, the King looks like he would fit better in an art museum.

“It’s cool,” Taako says, putting a hand on Kravitz’s shoulder that doesn’t currently have a large black bird resting on it. “While my sister isn’t on this hype train, you can go ahead and mark cha’boy as being down.”

“That is excellent to hear,” Kravitz replies, seemingly brightening at that. Taako really had no idea what he’s in for, but that doesn’t seem to bother him much. Especially in regards to how pretty Kravitz’s smile is.

“Why him?” Lup asks. “Why are you choosing Taako?”

“Yeaaaahhh,” Taako says, removing his hand. “Hate to grind those gears, but Taako’s not too clear on this either.”

“You...don’t recall this?” Kravitz asks. He reaches into the inner folds of his jacket and pulls out a small envelope, yellowed due to time. The only unique signifier to it is the name written on the back: Taako, in big, swooping letters.

“Oh!” Taako yells. He slaps a hand to his forehead. “Shit. I forgot. I had entered the lottery.”

“You. Did. What?” Lup asks, eyes darting from the envelope to her brother.

“My kingdom’s royal selection lottery was established years ago,” Kravitz says, as if that’s enough of an explanation. “Taako’s entry was chosen over many hundreds.” He glances at Taako with confusion. “There were numerous correspondences sent proclaiming you as the selected consort. I had assumed you had seen them, but were keeping Taako away at my ire. Did you not receive them?”

“I…thought those were junk mail,” Taako mumbles. His face tinges with a warm blush. “I may have...put them in recycling?”

Kravitz looks over at Lup, and Lup shoots him a look that very clearly says, the man you’re trying to marry is an idiot.

“Well, l mean, you did eventually come in person,” Taako says, sweeping that info under the metaphorical rug. He looks Kravitz over once more. “And believe me, the gesture is appreciated.”

Kravitz nods in agreement. “I am not displeased by the choice.”

At that, Taako preens. Just the tiniest bit.

“Say I am fine with you two going,” Lup says, clearing her throat. “Which I am not. Would you be coming back?”

“Ideally, no,” Kravitz says, facing her. “Once Taako is crowned King Consort, he will be ruling perpetually by my side.”

“Excuse me?” Lup shouts.

“Goodbye taxes!” Taako says with delight. Then his expression abruptly shifts to something dour. “Wait, perpetually? As in: I’m not going to see Lup ever again?”

Kravitz nods. “My realm is, for lack of better words, adjacent to yours. Yet, it exists as its own reality.” He snaps his fingers again. The rift appears in their living room, once more sending their senses on edge. But this time, instead of formless color, they see a gorgeous castle, tall and black, cutting a silhouette against a warm, afternoon sky. In the distance is an endless cycling of birds in flight. Kravitz continues, “Less bound by the natural laws. The ascension to the royal throne would require some...shedding of mortal ties.”

“Now, wait a minute—” Taako says.

“Bullshit!” Lup interjects. “You can fuck right off with—” Taako slaps a hand over Lup’s mouth, though that doesn’t stop her from muffling a few more choice words. There is a sharp drop of temperature in the air and Taako winces. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that rudeness is not tolerated in situations like these.

Kravitz says nothing, but his mouth is a thin line. The raven on his shoulder however, screeches loudly and angrily. The rift ripples like a disturbed lake.

“Hey, Krav,” Taako says, desperate to calm the conversation. “Can I call you Krav?”

“You may,” Krav says, tone flat.

“Listen, cha’boy’s definitely into the whole fantasy elopement thing. But I’m not going anywhere without my sister, and you can take that fact to the grave.” He takes his hand off Lup’s face and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “So I’ll come with you willingly, and prepare for the wedding, but my sister must attend me. That’s absolutely final.”

There is a very tense moment between the three of them—four, including the bird, who slowly stops screeching. No words are uttered for a solid minute.

Taako glances nervously at Lup, who narrows her eyes at him. Her hands are locked on his wrists.

“I will grant this request,” The King says, finally.

“Excellent!” Taako exclaims, almost too loud. He lets go of Lup. “Will I—should I pack up my stuff? I mean, I don’t know what’s the travel time? How many kilometers away is your kingdom? Will I need to get a storage unit?”

“All board, and amenities have been fully prepared for your chambers,” Kravitz assures. “Of course, some of the minor preparations will be awaiting our arrival. The menu, wardrobe fittings, portraiture—”

“You hear that Lup?” Taako says. “Couture threads and everything!”

“What a blast,” Lup replies, failing to hide the sarcasm.

“We will have to make additional lodging for your sister,” Kravitz adds, glancing at her. “But that will not be a problem.”

“Glad we’re clear on that,” Taako adds. “But we are keeping the gold that you so kindly left on the porch?”

“Of course, that is still yours.”

“Great!” Taako motions for Lup to stay by the door. “Lup, help me pick up all the shiny shit while our guest, uh, has a seat on the couch.” Taako grabs Kravitz’s hand and pulls him into the living room and onto the couch, pointedly ignoring the still open rift right by their coffee table. “Stay right here, babe. Just a few more minutes and we’ll go.” Kravitz eyes him with confusion. Lup grabs her purse from the kitchen counter and both twins turn the corner to go pick up the treasure from the front porch.

They both crouch down, Taako glancing hesitantly over his shoulder.

“If this goes sideways, this is all your fault,” Lup whispers.

“I’ll think of something,” Taako whispers back. They both stuff Lup’s purse with gold and jewelry. It all clinks together loudly, just enough to hide their murmurs.

“You said you’d marry him,” Lup says. “That’s a promise. You can’t break faerie promises!”

“I said I’d go and prepare to marry him,” Taako replies. “Everything after that is speculative.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Lup says, softly. Once all the coins are gathered, Taako takes a few of the necklaces and rings and throws them on for good measure. He also takes out the tie holding his hair back and lets the strands fall loosely around his face.

They both stand up and re-enter the house. Taako walks over to the king and grins.

“How do I look, Krav?” he asks, waving a jewel covered hand dramatically. The lamp light bounces off his necklace and glitters across his face. “Appropriately shiny?”

“Yes,” Kravitz says, leaning forward. He seems to take in Taako adorned in gold with a delighted interest. “Very much so.”

Lup makes a fake gagging noise. “C’mon, nerds. Let’s go.”

Taako takes Kravitz’s hand—while also holding onto Lup for good measure—and the Bird King leads them both through the rift.

And far, far away.

#:3!!! birb king kavitz #herbgerb blerb #herbgerb fic #taakitz #my writing #taz au

[goldenfawnwriting]

Birds Of a Feather- Part 16 Hawks Fic

Summary: Finch has been missing for over a month with no trace and Hawks is getting very nervous.

A/N: So I started writing this and had it halfway done two days ago but when I went to save it, it deleted it all so fuck me I guess lmao

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse, I think that's it.

It had been a month now. Finch had started wearing heavy eyeliner, foundation to cover her freckles. Menial things to try and evade the commission's dogs a little longer. She kept her wings wrapped up in bandages, telling the people she worked with at the small cafe that they had been burned badly beyond recognition and that they used to be a pinkish hued white.

When she got home every night to her much too expensive, tiny apartment, she unwrapped them, staring deadly at the fallen feathers. They were breaking off from the tight wrapping. She only threw them away, going about her usual showering and watching a bit of tv before going to bed. She had been doing alright for herself but she was going to have to go withdrawal more money soon. She sighed, she really was dreading having to do that. To go about withdrawaling money she would have to travel at least 50 to 100 miles away just to avoid tracing.

Which would just be annoying. The more she traveled the more of a chance someone would recognize her. She knew that, but she also knew she couldn't put it off for much longer.

Hawks on the other hand was pulling his hair out at the office. They wouldn't allow him to go search with the other people out looking for her. He was told to just sit still and look pretty and if anyone asked during interviews he was supposed to tell them that she was fine and just taking a break.

His mind was going off the wall. He had looked over the papers over and over and over and just couldn't find a lead no matter what. The last time she had taken money out it was in the city before she left. She must've gotten another phone, another number, cause her old phone was both missing and unresponsive. She probably turned it off and dumped it somewhere. He was at his wit's end.

"Mr. Hawks? They're asking for you in conference room three."

A petite, older woman called from his doorway. He huffed, running a hand over his face before setting the papers down on hid desk and standing from his chair. He glanced over at Finch's old desk, there was a thin settling of dust on everything and he grimaced. It had been so long. He just wanted her home.

He made his way to the conference room and knocked before entering, swinging open the door to enter. He was greeted with all the higher ups of the commission and he swallowed hard. What was going on?

"Hawks, nice of you to make it. We've missed you at the last couple meetings."

He only nodded to the man in the black suit.

"Why am I here?"

He questioned gruffly. He really didn't feel like another interview, let alone some menial publicity event.

"We have a new ping on her bank account. We want you to investigate."

Hawks snatched the papers from him violently, looking at the location and time. 4 minutes ago, about 58 miles away.

He could go now and get there in an hour. If she was moving under cover she wouldn't be flying so he could get there and still have about an hour to search before she would really be gone again. He didn't wait for them to say anything else, he took off out the window at the speed of light, pushing his wings to go as fast as he possibly could.

He made it in about 30 minutes, a new record for him. He was absolutely exhausted as he slowed down over the city it pinged from, flying around the perimeter before going inwards to look down on the sidewalks. He scanned and scanned and was upset to not come up with any brown wings strolling down main street. Not that he expected her too. As he continued looking he noticed an odd woman, looking up at him before tearing into the entrance of a store. Was she a criminal? He hummed but decided not to persue. He was here for one reason.

That's when it hit him. The bandaged appendages. He whipped around, flying back to the store and ripping the door open, searching it quickly before turning to an employee.

"Did you see a woman with bug bandaged wings?"

"U-uh she just went out the west entrance!"

He was running then, pushing through people before he spotted her again, running through the crowds away from him, trying to disappear into the people but he wouldn't allow that. He sprung up, using his wings to propel him over the crowd before coming down and grabbing her, tumbling them both to the ground.

"Let go of me!"

"Why were you running?!"

He huffed, getting her up and handcuffing her before getting them out of the crowd. He needed a more private place to talk. She thrashed, trying to get away. She knew she was screwed. He had found her and there was no way out of this. He was going to catch on to her at some point, why was she so surprised? Maybe because she thought she had disguised herself pretty well? Of course that would mean nothing to Keigo.

They entered a back alley where Hawks turned her around to face him, leaving the handcuffs on just to make sure she wouldn't run off.

"Finch?"

"W-who are you talking about?"

She tried to play dumb but she was way too nervous, fidgeting with her hands and looking off. She had never been a good liar.

"Stop playing stupid, where the hell have you been? Why did you go? Do you know how much everyone has been worrying? Asami, me, everyone at work!"

"Oh stop, I know no one at work missed me! You've probably had girls at your knees every day since I've been gone..."

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him, his thumb and index finger digging into her jaw and forcing it into an upward angle.

"Stop it Finch. I'm not kidding, where have you been. I've been killing myself trying to find you."

"I just wanted to get away..."

"Is this because I didn't say I love you back, because if thats the case-"

"That's not it! I just wanted to get away, I needed some time.."

"Ya and to stress out everyone who loves you. We thought you were dead Kore."

Her eyes were filling with tears and Hawks let his hand slip away from her jaw. Her short, choppy bob moved to veil her face as she looked down. He sighed and looked around, anywhere but her.

"What happened to you? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine..."

"What's going on with your wings?"

"Nothing, they're fine."

"Then unwrap them and let's go home, Asami has been up my ass-"

"No!"

There was a pause as he stared at her. No? He was dumbfounded. She wasn't going to come home?

"K-Keigo... I can't..."

"What do you mean?"

"C-can we go somewhere else to talk...?"

He nodded and uncuffed her, opting to grab her hand instead.

"My apartment is like sixty some miles away. Can we go there?"

She offered. He couldn't lie, he was curious about how she'd been living.

"Ya, that's fine. I'll follow you.."

He was appalled when she started walking.

"Wait- you're not gonna walk there right? Just fly..."

"I can't."

"What do you mean, you said they're fine-"

She turned, undoing the bandages to unwrap her wings. When she finally let the bandages drop his jaw went slack, his eyes wide. Her feathers slowly were falling out, molting if you will.

"It's from keeping them wrapped, almost all of them are gone. I can't fly without feathers..."

"You haven't been flying this entire time?"

He whispered. He was almost brought to tears. Her wings, once so beautiful, were so hideous now, marled and torn apart.

"No. If I flew people would see me. And I couldn't just let the colour be known, you guys have been reporting every fucking second of the day."

She growled. He reached out, his fingers nearly grazing the broken feathers before she ripped her wings away, folding them up.

"If you want to come let's go, I'm not waiting around forever."

He blinked away the shock before sighing and following her lead. He hated walking through cities. He always got wayyy too much attention.

#hawks angst #bnha hawks #hawksbnha #wing hero hawks #mha hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo

[itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto]

Cause baby you’re a firework.

A/N: Hi everyone! This is a bit of an angst heavy fic. Reader gets hurt on a case, and Spencer, her best friend worries he didn’t get the chance to admit his feelings. It has a fluffy ending!

Trigger warnings:  Explosions, bombs, swearing, mentions of violence, blood, surgery details.

“So, my loves, bit of a heavy one for a Monday morning but there have been a series of explosions in Dallas, all big companies, 50 dead and counting.” Garcia said.

“That’s not as high as I thought it would be.” Emily says.

“Some have life threatening injuries.” J.J said as Garcia quickly went through the photos trying not to look at the horror of the blast and the injured victims.

“Why have we been called in baby girl?” Morgan asks

“The un-subs have been in disguise, a different one each time and seem to pose very professional so security doesn’t question them.” Garcia said, “We need to find them fast.”

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said closing his case file.

Everyone nods and grabs their go bags. “You okay Spence?” You ask your best friend

“Yeah, just these victims didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this.” Spencer says

“We know kid.” Rossi says to the 30 year old, “Let’s roll.”

On the plane

“Y/N, you used to be a bomb diffuser, didn’t you?” Hotch asked

“I did. Why?” You ask. Before the FBI you used to work dealing with this stuff every-day and have saved thousands of lives.

“Do you know what bomb this is?” Hotch asked showing you a photo of the last bomb used.

You look for your glasses before Spencer lends you his, as you have the same prescription, “Yeah, it’s a T148. It’s used mainly in Afghanistan and 3rd world countries where there are wars still going on. Small put powerful. Could kill anyone within a 10-mile radius.” You say handing Spencer his glasses back. “I’ve diffused a couple.”

“Y/N, how old are you?” Rossi asks, “I don’t like to ask women their ages, but you are very young.”

“I’m 24. I diffused one exactly like this when I worked for the MI5 in London. This bomb is poorly constructed though. The wiring is badly put together, probably explains Emily’s theory on why not as many people died in the buildings, only those about 2-3m from the bomb would have died and everyone else life-threatening injuries as J.J said earlier.” You say. “I’d say our un-subs are young, similar aged to me and doing this because they are being forced to for some reason such as their families being threatened.”

“How awful.” J.J says

“I’ve seen it before, it isn’t pleasant.” You say, not really keen on talking about your past but know the team wouldn’t ever judge you, or force you into saying something that made you uncomfortable but their facial expressions tell you they want to know what happened. “Last case I did in London, before transferring here, a family were held hostage in their own home and the un-sub wouldn’t let them go unless their son blew up their family home with them all inside. It was horrible.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked

“I ran into the house, and diffused the bomb, but the unsub found me stabbed me in my stomach and back multiple times just as I diffused it. He got shot dead outside, the next thing I remember is the family thanking me for saving them and the doctor saying I was in a coma for 7 days as I lost that much blood. One of the family members had the same blood type as me and donated the blood I needed as a way of thanking me for saving them or I would have died in surgery.” You say getting out of your chair, showing your scars on your stomach and back from where you got stabbed and had surgery.

“Shit.” Emily said.

“Did your family come to see you?” JJ asked

“I don’t have a family. I’m adopted and I don’t get on with my real family, or my adopted ones. I moved out when I was 18.” You shrug, not really bothered by it. “And before you all give me your condolences, I don’t need them. You are all my family now.” You smile as some turbulence occurs.

“Y/N are you okay to look at the diffused bombs when we arrive into Dallas?” Rossi asks you softly

“Yes, of course.” You say and get some sleep, but still dream about that day once a week and it keeps you up at night.

“How old was she when that happened?” Spencer asked, referring to the house bomb you just referred to.

“18.” Hotch said, “It’s in her file. She saved not just the family but the whole street as it was late at night.”

“Poor kid.” Rossi said as some turbulence hit the plane. “I didn’t realize she’d joined us when she was 18.”

“She really doesn’t act her age.” Morgan said, “When I was 24 I was doing stupid shit like getting drunk with my buddies and playing socker.”

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.” Spencer said noticing Rossi looking uncomfortable

“I’m not, I just hate turbulence.” Rossi said, holding onto his seat.

“You know turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.” Spencer said looking up from his file.

“That does me absolutely no good at the moment. Thank you.” Rossi said through gritted teeth

“What we really need to worry about are microbursts - a sudden downburst of air associated with thunderstorms - but small craft like this one, if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude... Get pulverized.” Spencer said as he sipped his coffee.

“I beg of you to make him stop.” Rossi said to the rest of the team

“You can’t silence genius.” J.J chuckled

The team arrives into Dallas

“Wake up sleepy head.” Spencer smiled, gently waking you unaware you had the horrible dream again.

“Yeah.. Coming.” You say rubbing your eyes looking for your go bag.

“I got it.” Spencer said

“Thanks, and for lending me your glasses earlier.” You yawn.

“No problem.” Spencer smiled at his best friend.

You smile back as you get into the car and drive to the police station.

“Hi I’m J.J, these are my colleagues, Rossi, Hotch, Morgan, Y/S/N and Dr Reid.” J.J said shaking his hand, “You must be detective Smith.”

Smith nods, “Sure am. Set y’all up a conference room with donuts and coffee.” He says in a British accent.

“Donuts and coffee? To what to we owe the pleasure of food?” Morgan said as Smith shrugged winking at you.

“You know him kiddo?” Rossi asked

“He was in the same foster home as me.” You sigh, he beat you up a few times and eventually you learnt to fight back telling Rossi what he did to you.

“Just remember you are so much better than him Y/N, you’re in the fucking FBI and he’s a lame detective.” Spencer said, “And you have a donut.” He smiled shoving it in your face which made you laugh.

“And I have a family, and a dork of a best friend.” You smile, trying to hide your crush on Spencer, unaware he feels the same and start to eat the donut.

The team deliver a profile

“Hotch, can I go to forensics and check out the old bombs?” You ask

“Yes, of course Y/N. Spencer, Morgan, go with Y/N.” Hotch said

“Road trip with two nerds, come on Hotch.” Morgan rolled his eyes

“Hey!” You and Spencer both say

“We’re not nerds, we’re limited edition weirdos.” You smile

At forensics, you are chatting to the lab assistant, making chat about things, unaware Spencer is getting jealous.

“Just ask her out pretty boy.” Morgan said sipping his coffee.

“No! I can’t… She’s too perfect. I bet she has a boyfriend.” Spencer said

“Hey love birds, so this bomb is the same as the others, the first was done perfectly, but the last one, less so. So, I’m thinking something happened to him or her, and the other two are now working alone.” You say to Morgan and Spencer

Spencer’s cheeks flush at the mentioning of the words ‘love birds’ and phones Hotch with your findings as Morgan phones Garcia.

“Has he asked her yet chocolate thunder?” Garcia asked

“Not yet Mama, soon hopefully.” Morgan chuckled

“Keep me posted my love.” Garcia giggled

“Will do baby girl. Bye.” Morgan laughed and hung up, as Spencer’s cheeks got redder.

A few days have passed, and the case isn’t going anywhere, there is little information and all DNA left at the scene has been too small to get a sample.

“Guys… I think I got something.” You say looking up from the computer you were reading from.

“What is it Y/N?” Hotch asked

“Big new building having a grand opening today, over 1000 people attending. This could be the next one.” You say.

“Let’s go.” Hotch told the team

In the car

“Hotch, if it comes to it, you realise I will want to find the bomb and diffuse it.” You say, feeling the tension in the car.

“Y/N, you can’t risk you own life again.” Morgan said

“1 for over 1000, I’d rather that than my family and all those people die.” You say bluntly.

“You can’t.” Emily says as Spencer nods agreeing with her.

“I will.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Hotch said as you arrive into the building.

Outside the building

“Prentiss, J.J, Morgan, you take the left side. Rossi, Reid, Y/S/N and I will take the left. Meet in the middle.” Hotch says as you all nod putting your vests on and holding your guns out ready.

“Ready?” Spencer asks you.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You say.

“FREEZE FBI!” You announce, noticing the un-subs who set the bomb to go off and run. “After them, left stairwell, 6th floor, going down.” You say, “I got this.”

“Y/N…” Spencer began

“Spencer, fucking go. I’m fine.” You say shooing him away.

Spencer nods, not really wanting to leave you and goes after the un-subs with the team.

“You forgot about one thing princess.” You suddenly hear behind you.

“Smith?” You say, recognising his voice. “What the fucking shit?”

“Never were the smart one was you…” He said stomping on your arm and you scream out in pain trying to grab your weapon as he stomps on your leg and starts to tut. “Oh Y/N… So helpless… So innocent… Never could take my punches…” He said as you quickly notice a gap and grab your weapon, as he stabs you in the chest. You take your chance, whilst screaming in pain and shoot him dead then quickly tell the team you are hurt and continue to work on the bomb.

30 seconds until it goes off.

You take some wires apart. 20 seconds left.

“Y/N!” You hear the team call your name.

“Up here!” You call back, as you manage to stop the bomb going off and collapse next to Smith, blood pouring out of your chest.

“Y/N… Breathe… You’re going to make it…” Spencer says scooping you up and putting pressure on the wound as you close your eyes. “You’re going to make it…” He says again as tears go down his cheeks as the paramedics arrive to take you to surgery. “I’m going with her.” Spencer tells Hotch who nods.

“Keep us posted.” Rossi says as Spencer just keeps his head down as Morgan tells Garcia what happened.

“Oh my baby… Please bring her home.” Was all that she managed to say.

You ended up having surgery.

“Dr Reid?” A doctor said coming out in scrubs full of blood.

“Yes.” Spencer says quickly getting up, he hasn’t left the hospital since you went in 5 hours ago, twice to have a stress cigarette and to get a coffee.

“She’s strong that girl. Her heart stopped beating in surgery, but she’s out now and she’s awake if you want to speak to her.” He says

Spencer nods and follows the doctor to your room as he tells the team the news.

“Oh thank God.” Garcia says, “Bring her dessert. She needs chocolate pudding.”

Spencer walks into your room. “Hey.” He says softly

“Hi pretty boy.” You smile.

“Nice to see your memory wasn’t affected.” Spencer says

“If I’d been stabbed 5cm closer. I’d be dead.” You say, “I think my bomb days are over.” You chuckle then wince noticing the stitches.

Spencer sits down. “Are you okay, besides the pain?” He asks giving you the chocolate pudding.

“Yeah, I mean, I got my best friend right here and my favourite pudding. Can’t complain.” You say smiling

“I was really worried for you.” Spencer said

“Me too.” You admit

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer asked biting his lip

“If it’s for a stress cigarette, I already know you have had one.” You say, “We have the same habits Dr Reid.”

“No.” Spencer laughed. “I like you Y/N. I love you actually, more than just you being my best friend… I have for the last few years… Would you like to go on a date with me?” Spencer asked looking down.

You smile, cupping his face with your hands. “I’d love to, but maybe when I’m not wearing a hospital gown and we have an audience.” You say referring to the team all there, and Penelope on Skype, waving at you.

“Audience?” Spencer asks then clocks the team. “Fuckers.” He says as they all come in to hug you and bring you more pudding.

“She’ll be out tomorrow morning.” The doctor said

“Thank you Doctor.” You smile at him

“Don’t do that again Y/N.” Hotch whispered to you, you’re like the daughter he never had. “You saved 1000 people, and we caught the other two un-subs.”

“My bomb days are over.” You assure Hotch and make grabby hands for the pudding Spencer has started to eat.

“Hey pretty boy, better make sure pretty girl gets her pudding or she’ll put a bomb on it.” Morgan said as you all laugh.

“I love you guys.” You smile.

“The feeling is mutual.” Rossi smiled as they all left you and Spencer alone.

“Stay the night?” You asked him quietly.

“I’m not leaving you.” Spencer smiled kissing your cheek and holding your hand.

“I thought you had a thing with germs.” You say

“I make exceptions for my Mum and my date.” Spencer smiled, “Now get some rest.”

“As long as you don’t eat my pudding.” You say as you close your eyes getting the best nights sleep you have had in a long time.

“Deal.” Spencer whispers as he sings you your favourite song, Firework by Katy Perry.

'Cause baby, you're a firework

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go, "Oh, oh, oh"

As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework

Come on, let your colors burst

Make 'em go, "Oh, oh, oh"

You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

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