#it's like their only source of light is a single glowstick

[smoulderingocean]

Osblaine Appreciation Week Day 5- Clothes. Osblaine + the brown sex shirt

Bonus:

#OsblaineWeek2021 #nick x june #the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #june osborne #osblaine #also i including the scene of june watching Friends with a satisfied smile because that episode is about orgasms and nick gifted her many #so really- i'm knocking two entries out of the park here #really- i kinda got all three in one go #lmao i'm impressed i managed that #i'm not totally satisfied with these edits but both these scenes are so dark that this is as good as it's gonna get from me lmao #petition for this show to actually use some light because have you ever tried to edit something for it? painful #it's like their only source of light is a single glowstick #pls upgrade to a lamp i beg

[marlynnofmany]

Bright Spirits

I wrote this several Decembers ago, for a writer thing with the theme “Making Spirits Bright.”  No one was surprised what I did with it.

863 words

~~~

I was going to make a ghost-powered lantern if it took all night.

The ghosts in this area were right bastards, just as advertised, and I was more than ready to take the townspeople up on their offer of extra money if I could make the hauntings stop now. To do that, I would need a reliable light source. These ghosts had a perverse love of extinguishing flashlights, candles, and smartphones. So they were gonna do my work for me.

I started prep in the afternoon, setting up in the back garden that looked picturesque during the day, but turned into the creepiest of shadowy labyrinths in the dark. I was led to believe that there were old family graves somewhere on the property. Likely with a dramatic history of wrongdoing and hard feelings and whatnot. Didn’t care. When there were this many ghosts haunting a place, I’d found it far more efficient to take direct routes. Sussing out the unfinished business was only good for single ghosts, or at least single problems. This sounded like generations of dysfunctional families that I really wasn’t about to do therapy for.

Especially when they were little jerks who kept moving my things, even before it got properly dark. I snatched up the stick of square chalk that had no business rolling away like that, and told the moving shadows to keep their bitchass hands to themselves.

I kept a grip on the chalk — a glitterific day-glo orange that I got from the dollar store — while I finished my designs with the blue one. Tricky with one good hand, but I made do. Then I added orange to the mix, hopefully creating the right color contrast among the runes. I was making this up as I went, really. I had banishment rituals down pat by now, but the light thing was a new twist. Time would tell if it worked the way I wanted.

I stepped back from the fountain, admiring the two-tone symbols that I’d drawn all over its surface, with an altered banishment circle about the base. Best case scenario, the ghosts would be drawn to the fountain and stuck there, giving me enough light to sketch out a traditional exorcism once I had them.

Worst case, I had some thrice-blessed glowsticks that I hoped to save for another occasion. Not to mention the accidental superpower of phantom limb if I took off my prosthetic left hand. That was thanks to another ghost early in my career, who later regretted pushing me into harm’s way when I came back with the ability to choke a bitch who’d been dead for decades.

Again, not that useful today with this many unruly dead, but a solid backup plan. I was all about creative solutions.

The last sunlight left the treetops. I put away my supplies while the sky darkened. Whispers started gathering in the shadows, which I resolutely ignored. It was only when the visibility started getting really dim that I squared up to the fountain and started my incantation.

I stuck to the Latin for this one. There was enough experimentation in place already without venturing into nontraditional summoning spells. And when it comes down to it, you really can’t beat a dead language when dealing with ghosts.

Shadows moved and hissed as I spoke, and something tugged at my sleeve, trying to distract me. I flipped it off without looking. When I said the last word, the runes lit up, tracing fiery orange and blue across the surface of the fountain. The hissing in the bushes sounded shocked.

Then the blue lines flickered outward, spilling raindrops that flew sideways in all directions. I could have sworn I heard swear words in the whispering. The drops landed on dozens of invisible targets scattered throughout the garden, catching and spreading until the ghosts were lit up an unearthly blue.

I fist-pumped in triumph. I’d have to write that down.

Then the second phase activated, with the orange lines flashing and the many ghostly bastards finding themselves drawn towards the fountain. They started to wail something horrible. I stuffed fingers in my ears — one flesh and one plastic — and I regretted not bringing the good earplugs. Who’d have thought these guys would be screamers? Rookie mistake. Never trust the locals to tell you everything.

It was while I was thinking this that the first ghost hit the fountain. Instead of sticking there and complaining further, it shrieked louder and burst into an explosion of white sparks.

I blinked. That was a surprise.

The next ghost did the same, and so did the one after that. Fingers still in my ears, I circled the fountain and studied my runes while the wailing dead drifted past me. The air smelled like the kind of ozone you get in particularly dramatic banishments.

I stood back and regarded the fountain. It was glowing brightly as anything, with ghosts sailing in from all sides to be sent on to the next plane with pyrotechnic fanfare.

A grin split my face. I’d made a ghostly bug zapper. I was definitely going to write this down for use later.

#the eccentric exorcist #my writing #I have fun #you can probably tell #writeblr #ghosts #ghost stories #amwriting #creative solutions #there's a strong chance that I'll actually write a book about this character #she definitely deserves one #but first things first #I'm querying the robot sass + colortalking aliens book #and editing the one with the gorilla in space #that one's fun to get back into #it's got Vittr the alien taxi driver #but who am I kidding; I enjoy everything I write #it's a great way to be #onward!

[alirhi]

chapter 10

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 10/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: not much, really. References to torture, but nothing explicit Notes: as usual, this fic relies heavily on you having seen the Marvel movies (or at least CA:TFA, CA:CW, Thor, and The Avengers, so far) but like... why would you be reading MCU fanfic if you hadn't seen the MCU? XD

He never would have broken; he just hoped Thanos and his idiot henchmen didn't realize that. The torture he endured probably would have broken Thor in about half the time they'd been at it, but Loki was far stronger than anyone had ever given him credit for. If not for Eira, alone on an alien planet with a complete stranger, Loki probably would have held out indefinitely, just to piss them off. As usual, though, he didn't have time to mess with them or test his own endurance. He had to get to Midgard, collect his daughter and her father regardless of Bucky's feelings on the subject, and disappear.

So he pretended to break. He held out for a while for show, and then folded like a poorly constructed house of cards. Thanos – not a very trusting lad, that one – insisted on worming into Loki's mind with that damned scepter, and he had to let him, to convince him that the God of Mischief was truly under his thumb.

It was the most unpleasant sensation, having the energy of that thing wiggling through his brain. He did his best to keep it at bay, only letting the stone in the scepter into the very edge of his mind, but it still felt like a swarm of beetles crawling around under his skull. It, and the energy required to keep it from taking over or to keep himself from shaking it off entirely, left him exhausted and disoriented.

You will have your moment of glory, Thanos had told him with a smirk as he handed Loki the scepter. Just serve your purpose and bring me what's mine.

"I am Loki of Asgard," he announced to the humans between him and that damned cube, "and I am burdened with glorious purpose." They didn't catch the bitter sarcasm in his tone, but that was alright. He hadn't expected them to.

"Loki?" Why did this old man look so familiar? "Brother of Thor?"

Loki just barely stopped himself from gagging, and scoffed instead. Of course. This was one of Thor's little human friends. Well, at least he could have a bit of fun while he was here; he touched the tip of the scepter to Selveig's chest and watched the sickly blue light seep into his irises. See how Thor felt when he learned that Loki had made one of his precious human friends his little dancing puppet! It also helped that Selveig was some sort of scientist; he had some working knowledge of the Tesseract, and that would likely come in handy.

He really didn't give a damn about the Tesseract or Thanos' mad mission; still, it was best to keep up appearances until he could find a way to wiggle free of him once and for all. As long as he could feel the scepter's energy slithering around his brain, he knew there was a chance that Thanos, or his creepy underling The Other, could track what he was doing. The only thing worse than playing the obedient servant would be leading them straight back to Bucky and Eira. His best bet was a 'poorly executed' plan to distract Thor and his little band of human misfits.

Pity he had to fight them. He rather liked Banner and Stark. There was one silver lining to all this insanity, though: The redhead. That bloody slag, Natasha. The moment he looked into Barton's mind and saw her, that woman who'd dared put her hands on his Sergeant, he couldn't wait to make her suffer.

Damn. Jealousy truly was the ugliest, most uncomfortable emotion.

It caught him off guard when they sent her in first. As he gleefully informed her, he'd expected some sort of torture first, and then the woman would be sent in as a 'friend', a balm, and he'd be expected to fold and cooperate. None of them knew the depth of his hatred for this woman, so he was sure they didn't expect him to easily resist her 'charms.'

He taunted her for a bit, reveling in the increasing look of horror in her eyes, the way they filled with tears she fought valiantly not to shed, the way she trembled...

"You're a monster!" she whispered as she turned her back to him, still visibly shaking.

Loki chuckled, the insidious little devil in his heart placated by Natasha's apparent distress. "Oh, no," he gloated, at this point just making shit up as he went along. "You brought the monster." Honestly, what did that even mean?

Suddenly steady and clear-eyed, she turned and looked him right in the eye. "So, Banner. That's your play."

"What?" Oh, right. Barton had told him she had a knack for wrangling the beast within Banner; likely, she'd been the one sent to recruit him. Well, that worked out, didn't it?

He pretended to be shocked by her deductive skills until she was out of sight, and then rolled his eyes. Let them give him credit when Banner lost control of the beast in the fray about to come; it hadn't actually been his plan, but he knew it would certainly happen. These misfits were nothing if not predictable.

Maybe he'd luck out and find her mangled corpse somewhere at the end of all this. Surely Bucky wouldn't care, right? They'd only had a chance encounter... Perhaps Loki just wouldn't tell him. Really, was there any reason for him to know this random woman he'd slept with while brainwashed was dead? No, darling, I have no idea what happened to Agent Romanov! None at all. She's a spy, isn't she? Perhaps she disappeared on her own...

Oh, bugger. He was going to have to make sure she survived this, wasn't he? Even as he mocked Thor and tricked him into the glass cage, he was thinking about that bloody redhead. If the Sergeant remembered her, likely Bucky would, as well. Loki had never lied to him before; he certainly wasn't about to start now. Ugh. Guilt was an even worse feeling than jealousy!

Brother safely sequestered from the fight for the time being, Loki set about retrieving the scepter and the Tesseract, and making sure the vessel the fragile humans were on remained intact long enough for Stark and Rogers to get it at least partially functioning again. It was exhausting, trying to keep up the appearance of attempting to kill these people while simultaneously trying to keep them safe.

He could feel the scepter's hold on his mind weakening, thank Frigga, but he didn't dare even think of going to Siberia yet. Until he was free of it completely, without pushing it away himself and alerting Thanos, he didn't dare go anywhere near Bucky. At least he had command of the Chitauri, once he could bring them to Midgard. They would make a delightful distraction for all parties involved, and if he timed things just right, he could even send a few of them to SHIELD headquarters to turn HYDRA into nothing but a lake of blood and bone fragments.

Oh, Stark had made it home. Secretly pleased to see that he was well, Loki smirked – trying desperately to hide his giddy grin – and met him inside. "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my 'humanity,'" he teased, eager for banter with a mind as sharp as his own for the first time since... Well, since before Bucky had been captured and reported killed in action.

"Uh, actually I'm planning to threaten you."

"You should've left your armor on for that." This man was adorable. Once all was said and done and they were safe, he wondered if it would be strange to invite Stark over for dinner.

"Yeah." Stark's tone was endearingly dismissive. "It's seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the glowstick of destiny."

Trying not to laugh, Loki glanced down at the scepter. I am never calling it anything else again.

"Would you like a drink?"

He couldn't contain his laughter completely; he really liked Stark. Disguising it as mocking and arrogance, he hastily told him, "Stalling me won't change anything."

"No no no, threatening!" Stark gestured to the impressively stocked bar. "No drink, you sure? I'm having one."

One more second, and he was going to break and crack up. Or hug the man. Either way, it wouldn't look good. Hoping to buy a moment to collect himself, he spun on his heel and moved over to the glass wall overlooking the city.

"The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that." I wish you, Banner, and Thor would just get as far away as possible before they arrive. He turned back to face the other man, hoping the tremor he could hear in his own voice wasn't audible from across the room. "What have I to fear?"

"The Avengers." Loki must have looked as confused as he felt; Stark rolled his eyes and clarified, "That's what we call ourselves; sorta like a team. Earth's mightiest heroes type thing."

"Yes." Loki smirked. "I've me them."

Picking up the mocking in his tone, Stark chuckled. "Yeah, takes us a while to gain any traction, I'll give you that one. But... Let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demi-God-"

Adoptive brother, he wanted to snap as he scoffed and turned away, and barely that!

"A super soldier, a living legend who kinda lives up to the legend... A man with breathtaking anger management issues..."

Loki couldn't help grinning at that description. He liked Banner quite a bit, and the mindless green beast was an endless source of entertainment.

"A couple of master assassins," Stark continued, pointing at the pacing Trickster, "and you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan."

That's because you don't know what the plan was for. He grinned, but his mirth was short-lived as Stark calmly made his way around the bar and approached him.

"When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."

He'd thought of that, but still hadn't thought his way out of it quite yet. "I have an army," was all he could think to say.

"We have a Hulk."

"Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off." He'd likely return, of course, but hopefully in time only to slow the Chitauri, not to capture Loki.

He didn't want to, but as the conversation went on he realized he didn't have much of a choice. Hoping it wouldn't do any lasting damage to that beautiful brain of his, he touched the scepter to Stark's chest... and nothing happened. Confused, he tried again. Still nothing, and now Stark's witty retorts were just grating on him. Spotting the cuffs he hadn't been wearing before and assuming they were some sort of tech, he decided to just vent his frustrations the old fashioned way. With a growl, he lifted Stark by the throat and threw him out a window.

Sure enough, something shot out the hole in the glass after him, and within seconds, Stark appeared in a new suit. Good. At least Loki had managed to vent a little anger without actually harming one of the few humans he respected.

The knock to the head he received when he was blasted back a few seconds later was enough to finally dislodge the energy of the scepter fully. He'd have heaved a sigh of relief if the Tesseract hadn't chosen that exact moment to finally tear open the space above the tower and let the Chitauri through. Unleashing Hell on an unsuspecting city miles from even the closest of his actual targets had never exactly been his favorite plan, but it seemed that was the only one that was actually going to play out.

As usual, even his hated backup plan didn't end the way he'd hoped. By the end of the afternoon, two things were quite clear to Loki: One, he was going to have to take a breather and then find a way to disappear once he was healed.

And two, he didn't much like Banner anymore.

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

#fanfic #loki #mcu #avengers #captain america #bucky barnes #tony stark #iron man #m/m #loki/bucky #reference to buckynat #tom hiddleston #sebastian stan #winter's frost

[raewritesfiction]

Grease Monkey

A/N: Inspired by a couple of pictures and an errant thought in group chat ;-) enjoy.

Plot: Tom is a local mechanic who owns his own small garage; you’re a regular customer and have gotten to know each other, often going in for a quick chat when you have a spare ten minutes - there is a growing sexual tension between you both.  Today your car is taking longer than usual for Tom to fix and when you head in to see how it’s going the sight of him covered in sweat, dirt and a greasy set of mechanics overalls does things to you that you weren’t expecting. The cute summer dress that you’re wearing gives Tom much the same feelings and soon he has you pinned against the hood of your car.

Pairing: AU Mechanic!Tom Hiddleston X Reader Warnings: Smut. Language. --- --- ---

The hot summer day had left you feeling drained; especially after wandering around and trying to kill time until your car was fixed.  As it headed towards 5PM and the sun was still belting out a level of heat that nobody was used too, you sighed and slowly made your way back to the small local garage, stopping in at a coffee shop on the walk. The garage itself looked run down and you often joked with Tom that it would probably fall down in the next heavy winds.  He hadn’t disagreed and instead went about adding extra support beams to keep it all safe; the only thing he hadn’t been able to add yet was air conditioning and instead he often kept the roller door open with large floor standing fans going full blast. Today was no different and you thought this is what it feels like to be slowly cooked in a fan assisted oven - you had no clue how Tom was able to work in this heat so easily and seemingly without any issues.

“Knock Knock!” you call out so he doesn’t jump. “Coffee delivery!” Tom slides himself out from under your car and rubs his face “Please tell me it’s iced?”

“Of course… can’t drink anything hot in this weather.” You smile and sit yourself down on a plastic tub that’s nearby, handing Tom the plastic cup as he sits himself up in front of you and not-so-subtly looks over you from head to toe then back again. 

“Dress suits you… didn’t realise you had legs.” he winks. “I have glowsticks.” you jokingly correct him and sip your coffee through the straw. “How’s the day been?” “Not too bad… except your car won’t cooperate.  I have run every single test, had the engine apart and now going through the undercarriage with various different light sources…. I have no clue what’s wrong with it…. Other than….I think it’s time to get a new one…” he sips his own drink and looks away knowing full well than you weren’t going to take that news the greatest. “I can’t get rid of Bertie… he’s so reliable and comfy and…. Not exactly cost effective but… he’s my Bertie.”

“I think Bertie is fucked.” Tom laughs and stands himself up to stretch as you huff and watch him.  This time it’s your turn to look him over and it’s when you realise not only is he sweatier than you’ve ever seen him before, he’s also covered in what you assume to be oil or grease; maybe both, with his overalls unbuttoned to just above his navel showing his equally filthy tee.

Maybe it was the heat and your excessive time out in the sunlight today, but there was just something about the mechanic that was yelling at you to rip off his clothes - More than usual, at any rate.  Most days you’d just fantasize about it but today you felt like you could actually do it. You’re jumped out of your thoughts by Tom walking over and closing down the roller door causing the heat and humidity to spike almost instantly. “What you doing?” you frown and look up at him walking over. Tom stays quiet and takes your now empty coffee cup and throws it into the green bin across the shop then stands you up to face him.  “I can’t help myself anymore… unless you tell me to stop of course.” “You… er…” you blink but are unable to look away from his intense blue eyes staring back at you.

“I have been wanting to lock up and make your screams echo through this garage since the first time we met…. And seeing you in this dress….” he backs off a little and looks over you “Clings in all the right places..” a small smirk plays across his lips before he pushes you back against the hood of your car and pops open the final couple of buttons to be able to drop his overalls down and pull off his tee. 

You’d never seen his chest before and you’re quite happy to see a sparse spattering of hair complete with happy trail down a well toned stomach leading into the hidden depths of the overalls.  He wasn’t a glowstick like yourself… but he wasn’t tanned either; it was a very happy medium that at this point was wet with sweat and stained with dirt.  Tom had always been ever the gentleman during your friendly flirting and conversation, but you always wondered if his mouth could get as filthy as his hands. Swallow thickly, you realise you hadn’t spoken and had instead just been casually leant back against the car hood watching him stalk towards you.  Tom licks his lips and trails his hands up under your dress; his fingers teasing over your damp skin and heading for the trim of your panties.  Leaning in close to your lips Tom teases you over your panties and takes great pleasure feeling your body react to his touch.  

Being so close against you, you can smell his skin; a mix of clean sweat, oil and coffee that sends a flutter through your lower belly with every inhale.  Tom’s touch over your panties is feather light and leaves you physically aching for more; both your body and voice betray you when you roll your hips to his fingers and let out a small whimper against his mouth. Tom chuckles against your lips and kisses you passionately, pulling away long enough to spin you around causing the skirt portion of your dress to lift and reveal just how small your panties are.  You squeak a little as he pushes you forward and undoes the zip down the back enough to push it down off your shoulders and free your breasts.  His hands glide over your back to your shoulders, pulling you back to him so he can kiss down the back of your neck, then move so he can tease both your nipples.  You gasp and splay your hands on the hood of the car to steady yourself, feeling him roll his hips against your ass so you could feel just how hard he was in those overalls.  His breath is hot over your shoulder blades and up your neck, as he rolls his hips Tom let’s out a quiet moan close to your ear. You moan when Tom moves his hands away from you, dropping your head forward.  He lifts your dress up around your waist and then quickly pulls down your soaking panties; helping you kick them off to spread your legs wider for him. 

He wolf whistle and grips your ass, squeezing you “Remind me to bite that at some point….” You chuckle “You wanna bite my ass?” “I wanna leave that ass red-raw and covered in dark bruises so you feel me for a week.” Tom keeps his lips just behind the shell of your ear; the words only for you, as if the room full of inanimate objects could give away your secrets one day. “But for now…” he pushes you forward to bend over the hood completely and reveal exactly what he wanted. You moan and gasp; you want to turn and to see his cock that right now was in his hand and teasing your slick folds...but you stay on the car hood, splayed out for him to take whatever he wanted and that’s exactly what he was going to do. Tom moans your name and pushes into you with ease; filling and stretching you out until you feel his damp chest against your back.  You whimper and rock your hips immediately because you’re desperate for friction and movement; Tom is just as impatient as you and plants both his hands on the hood either side of you then rolls his hips in smooth motions that remind you of lulling waves at sea. The hood of the car is already slippery with your combined sweat and you’re left to the mercy of Tom’s body pinning you down because gaining your own purchase to push back is impossible; his chest never leaves your back as he rolls his thrusts while his lips stay poised against the edge of your ear so you can hear every small moan, groan and grunt.  He pants heavily against your skin while you pant heavily against the metal of the car. 

Your whimpers are quiet but needy; he’s teasing you on purpose because he wants to savour these moments when his cock is buried inside you.  Somehow you manage to lean up a little and move your foot to lean on the bumper so you can push back.  This manoeuvre causes Tom to call out louder than before and speed up his hips; the sound of his skin against yours, your intermingling panting and moans everything was getting too much and with the time you’ve both waited to get your hands on each other, both of you know this moment isn’t going to last forever.

It isn’t long before Tom swears and stops trying to tease you, stops trying to savour everything; he growls roughly and moves to grip your hips so he can pull you on to each thrust.  To hell with whatever inanimate objects could one day give away the details of your secret first tryst; you both call out and give in to your inner desires. You shimmy the straps of your dress down your arms and off so the material was bunched around your waist and leaving you free to move how needed.  Tom slides his hands around to your front and cups your breasts, pulling you upright against his chest.  

“You feel… so fucking good!” he pants heavily and snaps his hips into you, his movements becoming desperate.

You run a hand back into his hair and groan his name loudly in answer “...Don’t stop! Again!” He grunts and starts to repeatedly snap his hips into you to the point you could both hear your arousal on every thrust “Your pussy feels so fucking good!” 

You pant quickly, breathing hitching suddenly “Oh God!” “You like that? Like being told how wet you are? How hot your pussy feels around me?” Tom’s grip on your breasts tightens enough to leave light bruises as he keeps you held to him.

You nod and whine “Yes….!” “Can feel you running down my cock..” Tom grinds his hips up into you only a couple of times before you’re tightening around his length and calling out his name.  He hisses against your neck as you tighten and pulse around him, keeping his hips moving for a few more seconds until he yells with his release into you.

Tom stays deep inside you until you’ve both got your breathing under control then slowly pulls out of you and watches his seed run down your inner thighs.  

“Such a beautiful fucking sight.”

You tremble and take your time re-dressing. “Could you zip me up?! Smiling over your shoulder.

Tom nods “Only if I get to unzip you again later.”

#Tom Hiddleston Imagine #AU Tom Hiddleston #Mechanic!Tom #Grease Monkey

[ingoldentent]

Happy New Year, Spirale!

Very soon, it will be 12:00 at night. In other words, 24:00.

When you think about it, isn’t 24:00 a strange time? ...It can be called 24:00, and it can also be called 00:00. It’s the hour at the culmination of the previous day, ...and at the same time, it is hour zero as the next day begins.

And tonight, that time would be even stranger, for it’s almost 24:00 of December 31st, 2019. But when that time comes, it won’t be December, or 2019, anymore. It’ll be 00:00 of Januray 1st, 2020. The next day, the next year, the next decade are about to begin.

When there is only about 5 minutes left to midnight, a small cloud of golden butterflies can be seen flying up to the sky. For most citizens, the identity of the one creating them should be at least superficially familiar.

In a seamless manner, Battler Ushiromiya materializes himself up in the skies of Spirale City. On his hands, he carries a microphone, and to his sides, Beatrice’s iconic shoulder towers float up - however, rather than artillery, they only carry a bunch of sound boxes in them.

“Goooood evening, people of Spirale!!” He shouts, the sound boxes making it so the whole city should be able of hearing him. From the height he is, though, it shouldn’t carry that obnoxiously loud sound microphones might produce when turned on.

“I hope you’re all ready to end 2019 with a bang! ...Dang, what a year this was, huh? We got to experience life as ‘normal’ humans in a ‘normal’ city...” He makes air quotes at those words. “We dealt with an asshole cat god and his balloons, we saw the world end and turn into a fantasy MMORPG, we had a summer festival, we were given some chill time at a happy dream world, we faced ever changing apocalypses, we had a winter festival and we even had an episode of musical bodies!”

Whew, that truly was a lot. And this is only considering the major city developments. Who knows what sorts of plots and changes the people here went through, be it for better or worse? Battler knows his own, and everyone else knows theirs.

“...Now, I know what some of you might be thinking right now. ‘All of that in a year? That was hell! And next year there will be only more hell!’ And honestly, I don’t blame at all the people who hate this place. Heck, I’ve my fair share of complaints about Spirale too! But unfortunately, the power to leave this place is beyond everyone here, which means that we can only count on ourselves and each other to survive here.”

“...So rely on each other. Don’t try keeping your burdens to yourselves. Make it so, in this upcoming year, you strive to become better people than you are today. If you can’t do it by the end of next year, it’s ok. Your efforts are worthy by themselves. But we, as Humans and Witches and demons and ghosts and robots and Pokémon and whatever other species that lives on this island, can do much more when we work together. We can surpass any pain together. ...I believe in all of you. And I hope you’ll believe in yourselves and each other.”

A couple seconds of silence later... “Buuut enough of me giving out pep talks! It’s almost midnight, and there is one thing that I know you’re all anxious for!” He looks at his wristwatch. Yup, it’s 23:59. “Time to start the festivities! Soundboxes...” He snaps his fingers. “ON!”

Upon his words, an upbeat melody would begin playing at exactly 47 seconds before midnight. This is the only sound the following firework show will generate, for there is no need to create loud explosions sounds tonight.

It begins with what seems like gentle ripples in the sky. To the beat of the song, as if the sky was one of those soundboards with colored bars, several small wave patterns begin to spread in the sky, of all different colors imaginable.

The first bell sound plays, and with that the first firework proper illuminates in the sky. The waves’ intensity increases, as more beats are added up in the song. And once what seems to be the main melody kicks in, fireworks of numbers begin to appear in the sky, marking the final seconds of the decade, with each number being bigger than the last.

10... 9... 8...

7... 6...

5... 4...

3...

2...

1...

“<HAPPY NEW YEAAAAAR!!!!>”

Several fireworks appear at once. They spell, in quite legible numbers...

‘2020′.

That is it! The old year is officially over! But this party... is only beginning.

As more fireworks begin to pop in the sky, in a beautiful spectacle of colors, golden butterflies begin dropping down on the streets. Soon they coalesce... into animals? Well, not real animals. They are animals made of firework, you could say. And not just animals. From humanoid figures to silhouettes resembling inanimate objects, several firework beings roamed the streets of Spirale, with one goal and one goal only...

Dance to the kickass beat of the 1:14 mark in the song!!

And the citizens don’t have to stand still. On the contrary, the firework folks, with all their bright colors and cheerful disposition, invite folks to dance alongside them, although they won’t force anyone to follow along. Some prefer staying quiet, that is fair.

The show in the sky isn’t lacking either. Fireworks keep popping up, now far more than just spark shaped. Some shapes begin to form, at first simple geometrical patterns like triangles and circles and squares, then a bit more complex stuff like hearts and stars.

They get progressively more detailed, so by now you get photorealistic roses and butterflies and cookies. You’ve got dogs and cats and birds and rats. There are even faces of some citizens Battler is familiar with in the sky! Obviously he doesn’t know everyone in the city, so not everyone is there, and some people wouldn’t authorize their faces to be exhibited like this, but if you wouldn’t mind having the whole city see your face... maybe you’re there!

Once 2 minutes and 11 seconds have passed, the firework entities begin changing their dancing style. Alongside that, two noodle like streams of firework energy begin to sprout from Battler’s arms. It’s a number he actually pulled off last year, but in a much bigger scale, due to the much bigger crowd, plus a couple tweaks here and there at the presentation.

The streams fall close to ground level, then proceed to gain details. They’re two Chinese dragons, one golden with red details, the other silver with blue details. At first, the dragons float around the streets in a slow pace, simply bobbing to the song’s beat. In their trail, smaller fireworks appear and come to life, bobbing along to the beat.

At the return of the main melody at the 2:39 mark, their movements become faster, as they release harmless fire from their mouths. They zig zag the streets in astonishing speed, yet with enough precision and speed not to hit a single person at the crowd. They form beautiful patterns with their flight trail, which lasts a few seconds after their passage.

They also come close to each other, and with the same grace as usual, they dodge each other with absolute perfection. It’s a harmonic dance, one that keeps speeding up as the song’s momentum increases.

At 3:06, they ascend to the sky. Without the risk at hitting people, they take on more complex, riskier patterns in their flight, forming knots and untangling, passing by firework rings, forming rings with their own fire for each other to pass by.

And once the violin hits its climatic notes, they ascend higher and higher in the sky, flying in perfect parallel to each other. A trail of gold and silver dust falls gently over the city during this flight. And at 3:20...

They burst on each other, all by the sorcerer’s command. For a brief moment, it’s as if the sun has emerged prematurely - a sun that shines with its light decomposed into all the colors of the rainbow, that is. Once the night sky returns to normal, there are still fireworks appearing, but their frequency is diminished, as per the less frequent song beat. The firework beings also seem to act slower and slower... By 3:54, they are immobile.

And then we return to the initial soundboard like colored ripples in the sky. As this phase occurs, a change begins to occur to the firework beings. See, he feels like he should make this presentation more tone fitting to 2020 specifically. He isn’t a clairvoyant, though, so he has to work with things that are absolutely certain about this new year.

And after pondering a lot about this during the show’s planning phase, one simple solution came to mind - it’s the Year of the Rat! Therefore, now every single firework being has been turned... into firework rats!! Rats of all sizes and colors are now standing at the streets of Spirale City...

The hard beat soon returns at 4:22, and at the signal, all the firework rats begin doing the crab rave dance, to the energetic tone permeating the city. Once again, the citizens are invited to join their ranks, perhaps to pull off innovative dance numbers of their own!

Their dance goes on a crescendo as the main melody returns, jumping and squeaking happily in a rat parade in the streets. There is now colored lighting of unseen sources bathing the streets, making them look like a rave. They don’t flash, though. No need to cause epileptic attacks with this. They calm down a bit by 5:03, just bobbing in place to the tune as the next part of the show begins.

By 5:30, normal fireworks appear once again in the sky. This time, besides repeating the pattern of simple sparks to simple figures and then those figures growing in complexity, there is an abundance of rat fireworks. Besides realistic looking rats, there are also fireworks of Pokémon that look like fireworks, creatures that he has seen during his time back in the old city (sorry, Morpeko, that excludes you).

Golden butterflies go around the streets providing people with glowsticks. They should disappear once this party is over, but until then, the citizens can keep up with the rave mood. For those who want it, the golden butterflies can also turn into those discardable water cups, or in glasses of champagne. Again, they should all disappear once the party is over. He is an ecofriendly witch, after all!

The song hits the 6:27 mark, and with that the rats turn back into a more varied range of firework beings. Now, Battler summons two orbs on his hands, one of dark energy and one of light energy. He combines the two, and the result is something akin to one of those disco globes.

The globe is covered in a checkered pattern. From the white squares, rays of white light fall down the city, and from the black squares, a veil of darkness covers it instead. Just like in disco, the globe spins around slowly, intercalating the areas covered in light or darkness. It creates the perfect environment to keep everyone’s spirits up and dancing while the show keeps going.

At last, it is time for the grand finale. At the 6:55 mark, the firework entities dissolve into golden butterflies, which then proceed to move towards the city’s center. They fly en masse, under the growing beat of the song, all concentrating at the hole. A couple stay around the streets, glowing with colors that change to the beat, but the big bulk is now hovering above the central hole.

The fireworks continue to pop on the sky during this mass migration. For those too far from the hole to see it in person, the remaining butterflies tune closeby TVs into showing the proceedings. Once enough butterflies are concentrated over the hole, they begin flying up in an ascending spiral, while a pillar of golden light begins to form inside said spiral.

Soon, the butterflies’ spiral reach Battler’s height, which means he is now also inside the pillar of light. Just in time, as the 7:22 cue comes, causing the butterflies’ flight pattern to change from a simple ascension to a wave-like up and down beat. The light pillar reaches the globe, intensifying its pattern spread so that, rather than a slow spin, it’s now switching each tile from light to dark to light according to the song’s beat.

All of these lights are probably a bit too dizzy for some citizens, so he diminishes their intensity for everyone’s comfort. All except the pillar of light, which is now oscillating itself like a sound record being played live. Meanwhile, the fireworks become bigger and bigger in their size, showing even more complex images like famous landscapes of the city, like the Beach, Savior’s Respite, the main Fibonacci buildings and the Lake of Koi.

As the song hits its climax once again, the fireworks coalesce into even bigger pictures, until, at last, there is a full upside down replica of Spirale City made entirely of fireworks over the real deal. The light pillar and the butterfly spiral, on the other hand, are vibrating frenetically, about to collapse into nothingness at any moment...!

And then... they do. At 7:36, the globe stops spinning. The firework city is undone, turning instead into a firework cascade that gently falls over the citizens, but it dissolves high enough that it has no chance at hurting anyone. Likewise, the light pillar and the butterflies combine into a wave of magical energy that spreads throughout the city, with no other effect besides being bright and pretty.

The cascade’s beautiful colors, whose spectrum covers beyond the expected in the rainbow, is truly magnificent. And when combined with the magical wave... it’s like the whole city has, for a single moment, been transported to an otherworldly place, where magic and fantasy reign supreme.

By the 8:11 mark, the music attempts to build itself up once again, but Battler is cutting its energetic attempts short. All remaining butterflies in the city are called back to his body, and all the water cups, all the champagne glasses, all the glow sticks begin turning back into golden butterflies, providing the city with a final beautiful image of the golden butterflies flying up in the sky.

The flight of the butterflies is marked by the constant beat of the song, just like the soundboard ripples in the sky do. Those who still have some energy left in them might keep dancing, thinking that perhaps there will be yet another number that Battler will pull for this show.

And yet... the song ends. In an instant, the butterflies, the cascade, any trait of the magical firework show disappear. And with it, the Endless Sorcerer brings an end to the spectacle. ...What an ironic thing, no?

#isola news #Inside the Island #(Happy new year everyone!!!) #(Is there such a thing as #rats cw #?)

[kmorelikegay]

almost forgotten

For Day 2: Alternate Universe.

This is really late, but technically where I am it’s only 2 days late, so that’s acceptable, right?

Also on AO3.

The underground facility is dark and damp, and the wet sound of groundwater dripping from the ceiling and down the perfect paint of the walls permeates the air. The juxtaposition is unsettling, especially since, even through the humid air and several layers of concrete, Yata thinks he can hear the horrible moaning of the experimental subjects being kept here.

When the Homra special investigative unit had received a tip that the Jungle cartel used this facility to test new drug formulas on human subjects, they had expected it to be a straightforward drug bust: With a small team of special agents, arrest anyone on site (no interrogating allowed offsite; all suspects are to be taken directly into Homra custody and trialed and imprisoned at a later time) and perform a sweep of the place and confiscate all cartel property and operations – all in a couple hours’ work, usually. But Yata and his partner had been able to tell right away that this run was different. They couldn’t see the facility when they arrived, for one; had needed to confirm and then reconfirm that their coordinates read right before eventually discovering an entrance, tucked inside the bottom of an old well, which led to an expansive underground structure that made no effort to hide the opulence upon which it was built. The walls shone a brilliant green, the floors and ceilings were painted a bright white that made Yata’s head hurt, and gold-trimmed furniture decorated every room. It was odd, to say the least, of a facility they believed to be a simple drug den to look this way.

Stranger, however – and much more worrying, in Yata’s opinion – was the lack of security or any apparent personnel on the grounds. He thought at first that perhaps Jungle believed their well-hidden entrance and lack of any evidence of the operation on the surface provided them enough security in itself. But it is clear they don’t lack the funding to hire at least a guard for the entrance and a few for the top floor, so why not do it? Besides, they had found rooms on one of the lower floors which appeared to be dormitories, all with evidence of recent inhabitation: Unmade beds, shoes thrown halfway under mattresses, lockers full of clothes and other belongings and, most revealing, a large floor locker of the small but powerful pistols preferred by Jungle and plenty of ammunition to fuel them. Clearly, the place is guarded by some sort of security force, which means that either they all happened to take the same day off, or…

“No ash!” comes a shout from the end of the hall. Shit; that’s Kamamoto’s voice – they had been trying to estimate how many guards they could possibly expect as well as investigate how to get down to the lower floors, where Homra was told the human subjects are kept. He hears a call of his name again, and then the sound of footsteps – more noise than just one person’s would make – thundering toward his partner. Those words are Homra code for an urgent message: Run.

Yata is going to disregard the message – it isn’t in his nature to leave one of his behind, and he didn’t hear orders being given or the metallic clanging of guns, so maybe Kamamoto can still be retrieved – but as soon as he pokes his head out of the dormitory he’d been searching he sees that his partner has already been surrounded by a group of men in women in armored uniforms the same green as the walls. Although he has been restrained, he seems to be attempting to talk himself out of it – Yata doesn’t have high hopes for him, as charisma generally isn’t Kamamoto’s strong suit – but Yata recognizes it for what it is: His partner is distracting the security detail so that Yata can continue the mission.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, hopes for Kamamoto’s safety until he can rescue him later, and dashes down the hall in the opposite direction of his partner and the guards – and the only exit. The hall gets darker down this way, and, if it’s possible, even more humid, as if the thick concrete walls somehow welcome the moisture from the ground inside like an old friend. After a while, Yata has to turn his flashlight on, and he continues searching the floors and walls for traps as well as ladders, doors, elevators, or anything that might take him to a lower level. He hasn’t found any evidence of a drug lab or storage area or anything of the sort, but he figures either they cleared it out already (clearly they knew to expect company, somehow) or it’s all closer to the basement level. He needs to get down there before the guards figure out Kamamoto wasn’t alone.

When he turns another corner, he almost trips over an uneven spot on the floor. He looks down. It’s a latch attached to a wooden panel. Score, Yata thinks, reaching down the tug on the handle, wary of any traps it might trigger, but it comes up with no issue. Peering down into the hole revealed, he can’t see anything even with his flashlight, but there is a ladder. He nods to himself, taking out an emergency glowstick from his pack and hanging it from the ladder so he can find his way back here, puts his flashlight between his teeth to free up his hands, and descends.

Right away he can feel the difference in temperature. It’s cold down here – bone-chilling cold, the kind that seeps through the thickest layers of clothing and can’t be chased away even by the warmest fire. Yata shivers, looking around in confusion; he can still feel the heat and humidity bleeding out from the entrance he came from above him. This means the floor he’s on now must be completely isolated from the ones above it, or else there would be some sort of thermal equilibrium between the levels. He keeps climbing down, down, down, until he knows he’s gone further down than just a single floor or even two, until, when his feet finally do touch down hard and loud on the concrete of what must be the basement, Yata is almost surprised he hasn’t found himself at the center of the earth.

Releasing his hands from the ladder to grab the flashlight, Yata takes stock of his surroundings, immediately spotting a light switch to his right and flicking it on. For a moment, nothing happens; then, flickering reluctantly as if they’re being woken from a deep hibernation, the low glow of lights hanging on chains from the ceiling illuminate the room.

What he sees is not as bad as what he was expecting. There are no blood stains on the walls, no shackles nailed to the walls just high enough so a person of normal height couldn’t touch the ground, no racks of knives or fire pokers, not even any beakers or vials or any of the sort of tools he usually expects to see in a cartel’s main drug production facility. There are cells, though – small, hard rooms behind rusted but thick metal bars which form lattice shapes like a chessboard over the uncannily emerald green walls. Yata imagines the test subjects that must have been kept here, imagines this being all they knew. He shudders at the thought.

But for all he swore he could hear their misery, he can’t hear anything now except the dripping of moisture down the lengths of the cell bars. He looks left and right, both ways down the hallway he finds himself in the middle of. There are endless rows of cells both ways. He closes his eyes, listens to his instincts, realizes something in him is screaming at him to go left, and so he listens.

Several minutes pass with Yata moving warily down the hall, flashlight flicking wall to wall and floor to ceiling and ears peeled for any sound, leaving glowsticks behind every so often so he can find his way back since he has yet to see another way in or out of this area. He has gotten so used to the monotony of these tasks that when the clatter comes, a clanging of metal against something equally hard, Yata nearly jumps out of his skin. He pulls himself together quickly and starts moving toward the noise instead.

The clanging continues, guiding him to its source. It sounds like something – or someone – is hitting the metal bars of a cell with a bat, and if it is a someone rather than a something, Yata needs to make sure it is not themselves they are using as a bat. He runs faster, almost slipping on the damp floor a few times, until he finally reaches a corner around which the sound is louder than ever.

Cautiously, he draws his gun and eases himself around the corner, keeping to the shadows as best he can; he doesn’t want to startle the person, if it is a person, but his own safety needs to come first. The origin of the clanging becomes clear: In the cell around the corner, all on its own in contrast to the rows of repeating cells in the other halls, is a man kneeling on the floor facing his cell bars, and against them he bangs…his own fingernails?

Yata is so confused he lets out a gasp, and the man, whose face had been tilted down to watch his own hands against the bars, tips his head up toward Yata, who gasps again, this time in a disorienting mix of terror and relief.

The man is…it’s Saruhiko.

But it can’t be Saruhiko. His old friend was taken months ago from another special investigative unit – Scepter 4, which is both a rival and a close partner of Homra – by Jungle during a dangerous undercover mission he had volunteered for (volunteered for, but Yata has never forgiven their captain, Munakata, for agreeing to send one of his own into enemy ranks). They had thought him, assumed him dead; they had mourned him, and Yata had been devastated despite his friend’s defection to Scepter 4, that the person he was so close to was gone, that there was no chance, now, of even throwing taunts his way ever again, much less rebuilding their compromised friendship. But the man in front of him now is unmistakably Saruhiko, even with his glasses apparently missing, and Yata’s heart thunders in his chest as he takes in the familiar deep blue eyes and delicate cheekbones and tall, thin frame; he had finally accepted these were things he would never see again, and he can’t help the choked-out whisper of the man’s name that escapes his lips.

Saruhiko’s eyes widen, and Yata registers the confusion in them at the same time he realizes they are not the dark blue they should be at all. Instead, his irises are an inky black that swallows his pupils until there is no distinction between them. This is somehow less shocking than the fact that Saruhiko doesn’t seem to recognize his own name, and Yata says it again, louder this time, the last syllable lifting off his tongue so it sounds like a question, but he only gets a confused look in response again.

Yata lowers his gun, disheartened, but he still can’t just leave Saruhiko here, whether or not any of the real Saruhiko is left in him. He moves closer to his old friend, telling him who he is, telling him, it’s me, Saruhiko, remember? It’s Yata, it’s Misaki, I finally found you, I thought you were – and then he stops moving because Saruhiko has drawn himself up to his full height, taking a defensive stance, and then literal fucking wings sprout from either side of his upper back.

Yata’s gun clatters to the ground in an uncanny imitation of the sound that led him to Saruhiko in the first place. He knows some of what Jungle has developed – has seen much of it firsthand, has tried to forget much of what he has seen – but this is another level of fucked up. They had figured out pretty quickly this facility was used to test newly developed drugs on experimental subjects, mostly kidnapped civilians, but a captured member of an elite special investigative unit must have been too tempting to resist for the twisted leaders of Jungle, and Yata thinks he is now witnessing the results of this. And he remembers, too, folders full of experimental formulas Homra discovered at their last Jungle drug bust; drugs to imbue subjects with certain animal qualities, drugs to extend life at the cost of reason, and drugs to recreate creatures from myth and legend. Creatures – and Yata observes again the wings, the eyes void of color, the accentuated, beautiful facial features, the deadly nails – such as the incubus.

And then Saruhiko spreads his arms, making himself look even bigger, and he looks ready to strike with his terrible hardened fingernails, but all Yata can see are the black silhouettes of veins stenciled onto the insides of Saruhiko’s elbows where an IV might be stuck – or an injection of something terrible might be administered. As he observes what those bastards have done to Saruhiko, he backs away a little, slowly and as non-threateningly as he can, still speaking quietly, low murmurs of Saruhiko’s name and whispered reminders of who he himself is, how he’s here to help, not to hurt.

That same confused, searching look from before appears on his face again, and his brow furrows as if he’s trying to remember something important. Yata doesn’t know what they’ve done to him (though he knows what he’ll do to them, if he ever finds them – he’ll break them, he’ll fucking – ) but it seems Saruhiko has managed to keep some part of himself nonetheless. Yata feels proud of him in a twisted sort of way, and uses his moment of almost-recognition to take a slow step towards him and say softly, “I want to help you. We need to get out of here. How do we get out of here?”

Saruhiko lowers him arms, then, regarding Yata with those unsettlingly dark eyes, and Yata thinks again of his earlier revelation, of what Saruhiko might be now – or at least until they can figure out how to reverse it (if anyone can figure it out, it’s the two of them, right?). He looks again at the new features, the unfamiliar parts of him that Yata’s brain connects to those mythical demons, and his eyes see all of this but his brain cannot connect what his eyes see to the friend he remembers. But if Saruhiko really is an incubus, then he has so much power – power that cannot be unleased unless someone willingly enters into some sort of pact with him, so that they may share power, and Yata is just processing this, reconciling the realization with what it would mean (if it is him – and who else could it be? – then they would have to kiss, would have to touch, and Yata isn’t opposed to this, has never been opposed to this, but Saruhiko isn’t…Saruhiko doesn’t…he doesn’t remember…)

He is almost too busy fighting down the flush on his face to hear the quiet whisper of his name, a soft, “Misaki,” not really a question but said like he’s sounding out the letters for the first time, said like he’s never sounded out letters before at all, and Yata’s heart breaks at the familiar (but different, so different) voice even as hope flares in his chest. If they can communicate, then –

A loud clamber from around the corner and down the hall snaps him out of his thoughts. It is coming from back the way he came, and then he hears footsteps and shouting, and fuck, he thinks, the glowsticks. Beside him, Saruhiko has drawn himself out to his full size again, wings and arms spread, and he’s nearly snarling in the direction of the noise, but when the metallic clang of a gun hilt hitting the stone wall echoes down the hallway, he flinches, and that is fear now in his eyes.

Yata springs into action.

“Saruhiko,” he calls urgently, not bothering to be quiet anymore; they’ve already been discovered, and now haste is the most important thing. “If you are what I think you are…we need to make a pact. Right now, Saruhiko. We need to make a pact and then we need to get out of here, and we can’t do it without each other, you have no power without a willing person and I don’t know how to get out of here and even if I did I’m not leaving without you – “

He’s cut off by a cool grip on his wrist. Saruhiko is looking at him intently, staring into his eyes, and despite the coldness of his hands Saruhiko’s gaze warms Yata so much (all he ever wanted before was this man’s eyes on him, this man’s attention, this man’s – ) that he almost misses his slow chanting, said under his breath in words that get swallowed by the humid air but with red lips that part over them and with eyes that never leave Yata’s, and then something shifts in him, and he can feel Saruhiko as if his friend has moved aside Yata’s insides and made room for himself there, and as soon as he has that thought Saruhiko dissipates before his eyes and then Yata gasps because now he can feel Saruhiko inside him not only spiritually but physically, and then a voice in his head that sounds like Saruhiko says, calmly, “Misaki. Run,” and Yata does.

-

Yata is panting heavily by the time he can see the sun again, but he doesn’t feel tired. He has never felt more exhilarated in his life. He feels so fast (sprinting through the halls at supernatural speed, twisting and turning through the cells in the basement and somehow knowing exactly where to turn next), so powerful (the crack of bone against stone walls and floors, moving in and out of the shadows as if he’s not fighting them but part of them, and thrum of Saruhiko’s inky black, intoxicating power in his head and all his limbs), so unstoppable. He cannot help it; he laughs out loud, and it feels even better when he feels Saruhiko’s echo if it inside him.

And, oh, fuck – Saruhiko is inside him, and he chokes on his laughter, feeling his face heat and his body start to react despite the situation they’re in. He doesn’t even notice when the intrusion of the demon – though he’s already stopped thinking of Saruhiko as a demon, if he ever did, and it doesn’t feel like an intrusion anymore so much as a welcome guest, a missing piece, an old friend – disappears from within him until he hears another call of his name, this time heard in his ears and not his mind, and whips around with a still-burning face to see Saruhiko now in the flesh in front of him.

He still has that searching look on his face, but his eyes reflect the exhilaration Yata feels, and he’s wearing a smirk that suggests he knows exactly what Yata is thinking – which, shit, he probably does; he had Saruhiko’s voice in his head, after all, so he probably knows his thoughts too. But then Yata notices how pale he looks, and barely moves in time to catch him as his knees buckle and he gives in to gravity.

His mouth is spouting questions faster than his head can come up with them – “Shit, Saruhiko, are you okay, what happened, what can I do, how can I fix it” – when he remembers the pact, and then asks instead, blushing furiously, “Oh, you need…shit, Saruhiko.” He feels so hot, and he wants this, so much, but Saruhiko still doesn’t remember, but he looks like he’s about to die, so Yata finally blurts, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Saruhiko looks up at him warily from where he’s slumped in Yata’s arms, and Yata’s face heats even more; his gaze is so penetrating, and then fuck, he has to blush even harder at the thought. But Saruhiko clicks his tongue, making Yata’s heart clench with the familiarity, and turns away from him, facing down at the grass instead, and says, “I’m fine. Misaki.”

But he’s not fine, and Yata isn’t going to let him get away with not taking care of himself like he did when he was…well, himself. (It seems not so much of the real Saruhiko was lost, after all, even if he doesn’t remember.) And Yata provided food for him before, tried to get him to eat properly, and he’ll do it again, provide sustenance for Saruhiko, even if the sustenance he needs now is…less innocent.

But if Saruhiko needs it, and Yata wants it, then even if it’s not the real Saruhiko, then it should be okay, right?

So he calls his friend’s name again, softly, fondly. “Saruhiko,” he says. “Saru.” And he’d almost forgotten, what it felt like to have this man’s gaze on him, but he remembers all at once as their eyes meet; he’d almost forgotten, how it felt for their hands and bodies to touch, but it comes back to him as their fingers intertwine; he’s almost forgotten, what it was like when their lips slotted together, but it all comes flooding back with Saruhiko’s mouth brushing his, Saruhiko’s tongue running along the seam of his lips, Saruhiko’s breath flooding into his mouth in a rush, and he kisses just like the old Saruhiko, so that Yata almost forgets that he isn’t, not really. He lets himself have this, lets them hold each other as the sun he’d almost forgotten about caresses their hair and their backs. They are so close that he feels it both under his palms and within himself when the effects of the kiss hit Saruhiko, and he pulls back, watching his skin flush with color and the black in his eyes retreat as if chased, giving way to that deep, beautiful blue. He looks, now, exactly like his friend, exactly like Saruhiko, and then he whispers Yata’s name again, his voice breathy and gorgeous, “Misaki,” and Yata cannot do anything against it; he takes Saruhiko’s hands in his again and pulls him forward and Saruhiko meets him in the middle, and Yata lets him muscle memory take over as he refamiliarizes himself with his oldest friend’s touch.

#sarumi fest 2018 #i wanted to do more with his #but i haven't been the most motivated lately and i wanted to post /something/ #so here's some hopefully not too terrible demon fic #in which they somehow have less issues than in canon #sarumi #fic #mine #k

[saitou-shuka]

Yousoroad in Seoul.

Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I made a long post like this (:D)|￣|＿ Today I want to talk about the Yousoroad!

What is the Yousoroad?

During the beginning of You’s solo in the Koi ni Naritai AQUARIUM PV, a path of blue light extends beneath her. This path has become known as the “Yousoroad”, a term combining the words “Yousoro” and “road”.

(... As usual, this got way too long so the rest of this post is under a cut.)

Is "Yousoroad” an official term? Or a fan term?

It’s a fan-coined term that the seiyuu have since recognized! The term “Yousoroad” itself was first brought to attention and acknowledged on Uraraji Episode 5 in a fan letter from the fan “Perosuke”. This was waaaay back in May 2016, when Anchan still hosted Uraraji by herself, and Shuka was guesting to help promote CYaRon!’s first single. It’s a term that’s been around for a while.

What happened at the LIVE & FAN MEETING in Seoul?

During the live performance of Koi ni Naritai AQUARIUM, fans managed to pull off a real-life Yousoroad for Shukashuu with glowsticks!! 

To imitate the Yousoroad, the audience has to turn off their penlights so that they are completely dark right before You’s solo. Then, as the solo starts, only the middle section of the audience lights their glowsticks in blue from front to back to create the Yousoroad, ideally with the same timing as the PV. The side sections of the audience must stay dark until the solo ends, or the image of the road will be ruined. If you’re having trouble envisioning it, it looks something like this (:D)|￣|＿

As you might imagine, this sounds like an extremely difficult feat to perform. In fact, the Yousoroad has never been successfully executed at any live before this, most likely because of how difficult it is to coordinate large numbers of fans. Plus, usually fans will just have their penlights blue for the entire song to support Shukashuu. The Yousoroad requires a great deal of coordination, as well as cooperation from every fan in the audience. It’s not like you can casually rent the venue to practice, either. The first runthrough is already the real deal.

Then, how did the fans in Seoul manage to do this?? Again, I will emphasize that the Yousoroad is not something you can pull off successfully without proper preparation. Everyone in the audience needs to be aware that it is happening and be willing to cooperate. This means that you would need some way to spread the word to everyone else prior to the event.

So, in the weeks leading up to the fan meeting, some Korean fans campaigned very, very hard to make the Yousoroad (as well as the Kananrail, the equivalent move for HAPPY PARTY TRAIN) a reality at the fan meeting.

I’m serious, they went hardcore to reach out to the community. These fans made a Twitter account just to advertise it, as well as a blog, several tutorials (1, 2, 3) and even brochures! (Shuka took pictures with one of these brochures too; congrats to the makers!!!)

A Yousoroad brochure from the fan meeting. (Source)

Heck, someone even made a 3D video tutorial to make it easier to understand:

The point is, these people really love the seiyuu and put an insane amount of effort into making the Yousoroad and Kananrail real for Aqours to see. I have nothing but respect for them, and I’m so glad their hard work paid off in the end.

They’ve inspired future fan meetings to make the Yousoroad and Kananrail as well! Japan has already started its own Twitter account for it, and Taiwan is also starting to make plans for their fan meeting next February.

Congratulations on a successful Yousoroad and Kananrail!

tl;dr the Yousoroad is real and it started in Seoul. Yayyy ꉂ(･∀･ゝ ≡ ･∀･)ゝ

I don’t think any of the fans involved in the project are ever going to read this, but I’m very proud of everyone who went to the Seoul fan meeting. Thank you so much for showing Shuka an unforgettable sight (இ⌓இ )

#looked like so much fun #wish I could have been there to help T_T #I have a lot to say about this but I completely forgot what I was going to say #so I'll just say #I'm really happy this is a thing now #love live has an amazing fanbase #seoul fan meeting #yousoroad #kananrail #detective shukamod #long post #info

[selfignitingimagines]

Liam- It Was Everything

Request-  Could you write me an imagine about anything? For Liam please?

A/N- Loved writing this one!!

“Alright girls, you did a great job setting everything up,” you announced, clapping your hands together. Eleven fifth graders stared up at you, all in various stages of untangling each other from camping equipment. One girl was popping out of a tent, a few others were hanging halfway out of sleeping bags, and you were pretty sure there was one stuck in a tree. Your brow furrowed, and you walked over to the girl, whose dark hair was hanging over the ground. “Uh, Mina, what are you doing?” you asked lightly. “I’m having fun,” she told you brightly, flashing you a gap-toothed grin. Your lips twitched and you glanced over at your co-counselor, Sydney, but she shot you an exasperated look. You held up your hands in surrender and looked back down at Mina. “Okay, well we’re about to have a group meeting right now, so you might wanna get down.” “Okay,” she chirped. “Oh, and Ms. Y/n?” “Yeah?” “Wanna know something cool?” You glanced back at Sydney who was mouthing “Say no, say no” over and over. Before you could answer the girl, she pointed above her. “My shoelaces are tied to this branch!” Sydney gave an exasperated sigh and stomped over. “I’ll get her down. You start the meeting.” You smiled and walked to the center of the campground. “Alright, guys, can you all come over here please?” It took a few minutes, but all of the girls eventually shimmied out of the the tents, crawled out of sleeping bags, and untied themselves from trees. They made their way to the center of the clearing you and Sydney had chosen an hour ago, and sat down before you. Mina ran to join the group last, sandwiching herself between two other girls as Sydney came to stand beside you. “Alright, as I was saying,” you began. “You guys have done awesome, so I think you deserve a little reward. We’re gonna put the skills we’ve learned to the test, and we’re going to start a campfire to make s’mores.” Cheers erupted from the girl scouts sitting in the dirt, and you looked over at Sydney for approval. She offered you an uneasy frown. “They’re going to be up all night.” “Yep,” you agreed. “But I promise I’ll be the one chasing them around camp. You can sleep.” “Y/n-” Sydney groaned. “And the first team to get the fire started gets the first s’mores!” you shouted suddenly, cutting her off. A scramble ensued at your words, and in seconds, all the girls were racing to the pile of firewood you had collected. “Y/n-” Sydney protested, cutting herself off to shout after one of the girls. “China, put those matches down! How did you even-are those mine?!” She glared at you and you shrugged, jogging past her to help the girls. “Come on, Sydney. I know Ms. Honor Student remembers how much fun she had on these trips. Live a little!” The Brunette shot you a frustrated glance and then sighed to run after you, causing you to grin. Sydney was doing this to put volunteer hours on her college application, but you knew she enjoyed Girl Scouts. Not as much as you had, of course, but now that you were too old for it, being a counselor was something that just seemed to make living in crazy Beacon Hills worth it. You did have access to a pretty great preserve, and you loved taking the kids out here to spend the night. You had made some of your fondest memories camping, and out here with the chirping crickets and sleeping bags all pushed together, you felt at home. The night started quietly enough, with only one slightly burned piece of clothing and about fourteen botched s’mores. The girls chased each other around in the dying light with glowsticks, giggling and laughing in the dark, causing you to smile. You and Sydney sat on a log and watched them play, and for a while, you were content, but then you saw a single glow stick sitting on the edge of the woods. “Sydney,” you said, glancing around the campsite. “Count the girls.” “I counted them five minutes ago,” she complained. “And didn’t you tell me to stop doing that?” “I told you to stop doing it every fifteen seconds,” you reminded her. “But seriously, count them.” Sydney huffed and stood up, and your gaze flicked around at your campers. “I counted ten.” Sydney looked over at you, her eye filling with fear. “So did I.” You swallowed. “Okay, don’t freak out. Count again.” “There are still only ten!” she hissed. “And...and Raina’s gone.” “Get them together,” you whispered. “I’m going to go find her. She probably just wandered o-” The sound of a shrill scream interrupted you, and you closed your eyes briefly. When you opened them again, Sydney was staring at you in horror. “Okay, that could be anyone.” “Y/n!” Sydney shrieked. “One of our girls is out there!” “Okay, okay,” you hissed. “Calm down.” “Ms. Y/n! Ms. Sydney!” one of the girls cried. “What’s going on?” “Uh, nothing,” Sydney said, trying to fake a smile. “Ms. Sydney, what are you doing with your face?” You looked back at her and put your hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’m going to find her. I’m bringing her back.” “What?” she demanded. “You can’t just go on your own. What if someone’s out there?” “I’ll take a weapon,” you promised, glancing around the site. You quickly ran over to the pile of extra supplies you had brought, and your eyes lit up when your eyes landed on something heavy and wooden. “Y/n, that is a canoe paddle,” Sydney hissed. “You got anything better?” you questioned, and before she could answer, you headed off into the trees. “Didn’t think so.” You slipped past Sydney’s line of vision, and all she could do was watch you go with fear in her eyes. You knew it was stupid to go off by yourself, but there were only two of you. Sydney was the older counselor anyway, but she would be better at staying in control of the other girls. You were the funny one, but she was the responsible one. Now those lines were going to have to blur, because if you wanted to find Raina, you were going to have to take the lead on this one. She could have easily gotten lost and just been afraid of the dark, but while Beacon Hills was boring from day to day, its night life seemed to bring out terrible things. You had heard rumors of things out in the preserve, but none of the troup leaders had mentioned anything about that. You just assumed they were meant to scare people away from sneaking into the preserve at night. Now, faced with the possibility that they could be true, you knew you had to find your camper. “Raina!” you called, keeping a tight grip on your paddle. “It’s Ms. Y/n! Are you out here?” All that came from the darkness was silence. Not even the crickets were chirping, and now that you were all alone, the woods were beginning to feel less like home and a more like a cage. “Raina!” Another shriek cut through the trees, and you felt your adrenaline kick in. You ran toward the sound of the scream, your boots slamming into the dirt. “Raina! Where are you?!” The screams became more frequent now, and you headed to the source, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Raina!” You held the paddle like a spear as you skidded to a stop in the clearing, and in the slim amount of light left from the sunset, you were able to see Raina’s colorful sneakers kicking in the dirt. There was a large figure on top of her, and he seemed to be grunting or yelling, but either way, the sound was unnatural. You darted forward and yelled “Hey! Get the hell off of her!” Your voice shook with terror, and maybe that wasn’t the best move, but they hadn’t exactly gone over this scenario in counselor training. You wished they had, and you could practically see the final quiz in your head. If one of your campers is attacked by a madman in the woods, do you a) leave her for dead b) launch a rescue mission, or c) consult your handbook? The next step in your brilliant plan was to raise the canoe paddle over your head, and in a split-second decision, you slammed it down on the man’s head. Instead of falling over like you thought, he simply whirled around and opened his mouth, which were full of jagged teeth. The man’s eyes seemed to flash white, and even though you were terrified, you stood you ground. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” He let out a throaty laugh that sounded more like a growl, and then he rose from the ground above Raina. She screamed and scrambled back in the dirt, but the man, or whatever he was, didn’t seem to care about her anymore. He took a step forward, and then you bolted, still gripping the paddle tightly. You glanced over your shoulder to see him chasing after you, and you thanked your lucky stars that you were leading him away from camp. You hoped Raina would be able to find her way back, but right now, your only concern was making sure this thing didn’t get to the girls. You glanced behind you once more, and when you did, you stumbled on the root of a tree. You slammed into the ground and quickly pushed yourself back up, dropping the paddle in the process. When you felt the hand latching onto your ankle, you screamed. Your nails dug into the dirt as you were dragged back on the forest floor. You were yanked around roughly, your back scraping on loose twigs and leaves as the man pulled you under him. You screamed again as he pinned your arms into the dirt, and he leaned down to get closer. You whimpered as you felt his breath graze your cheek. Now that he was so close, you could see his teeth in more detail, and you could tell that there were rows and rows of them. They were wicked sharp, more like an animal than a human, and you had the terrifying thought that he was planning on sinking them into you. “Why are you doing this?” you gasped out. He leaned forward, and he offered you an animalistic grin. “Because I’m hungry.” He roared in your face, and you began to cry. “Please stop. Please.” “What’s the matter?” he growled. “Not so tough anymore?” “Stop,” you repeated, your voice wobbly and broken. “Please.” You glanced around you, looking for anyone or anything that could save you, but all you saw were darkened trees. The light was pretty much gone at this point, and you wondered if this was where you died. Alone, terrified, and in the dark. Before you could think anymore about your impending death, the weight of the monster on top of you was gone. The sound of snarling hit your ears, and you sat up, dazed, as you found the source of the commotion. The man on top of you was writhing under a growling shape, and now it appeared to be his turn to be pinned down. You could barely see in the dark, but you were able to slip your phone out of your jacket pocket and shine the light toward the struggle. You gasped when you saw who was pinning the man to the ground. Liam Dunbar, the sweet guy with the baby blue eyes from your math class, was pressing the guy into the ground. He glanced up at you and raised his eyebrows. “Run!” You nodded quickly and stumbled back, swatting stray branches out of your way as you ran back to camp. You looked over your shoulder one last time to see Liam still turned your way, and if you had been able to look through the darkness, you would have seen concern in his eyes. You tore back through the woods, shining your phone light in front of you and glancing back every few seconds just to make sure that thing wasn’t following you. Fear was constricting your throat and making it hard to breath, but when you finally saw flashlights shining up ahead, you took the chance of believing that you might be safe. You almost slammed right into someone as you entered the clearing, but before you could, they roughly grabbed you by the shoulders. You let out a scream, but as your vision adjusted, you could see it was only a girl. “Relax,” she commanded, glancing down at you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “You’re okay.” “I-don’t-don’t you go to my school?” was all you managed to get out. The girl was tall, with shoulder-length brown hair and a look that suggested she didn’t take any shit. You had seen her hanging around Liam a couple times, but you knew she was senior. “Yep,” she told you, taking her hands off your shoulders. “Y/n!” a voice shouted. You looked over to see Sydney running toward you, and she came up and threw her arms around you. “Oh god, I thought you were dead. Raina came back and you didn’t and I just...I’m really glad you’re okay.” “Thanks, Syd,” you breathed. “Are the kids okay?” She nodded and glanced back at the group of girls huddled together in the dark. Another one of Liam’s friends, a tiny redhead, was standing in front of them and teaching them one of those hands games with the chanting. “They’re fine,” she promised. “Lydia’s watching them. And the girl you almost ran into is Malia. One of them is in my Biology class. Their friends Scott, Stiles, and Liam went out to find you. You know Liam, right?” “Yeah, he’s in my Algebra 2 class,” you said. “Sydney, what the hell is going on?” “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But you know weird things happen in this town. All Lydia would say was that some maniac got loose from Eichen House and took off into the woods. Stiles heard it on the radio, and Liam said he remembered hearing you talking about this trip on Friday. That’s how they found us.” “Liam?” you whispered, blinking in the darkness. “He remembered?” “I know you have the biggest crush on him,” Sydney said softly. “Maybe he feels the same way.” Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back toward the woods. “Shouldn’t we get the girls out of here? In case that thing got away?” “Scott and Liam have it covered,” Malia promised you. “It’s only one wendigo.” “What’s a wendigo?” you asked. “They eat people,” she told you plainly. You gulped. “O-okay.” The sound of running footsteps echoed through the night, and the three of you glanced over to see Liam jogging toward you. Your eyes lit up, and you met him halfway. “Oh my god, are you okay?” “Me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m fine.” “Are you bleeding?” you asked, pointing to his shirt. “Oh, it’s not mine,” he assured you. “It was Patrick’s.” “Patrick?” you questioned. “The psycho from Eichen House,” Liam told you. “He keeps escaping, and I’m guessing that rehabilitation therapy doesn’t really work for cannibalism.” You let out a soft, uneasy laugh, and Liam smiled. “Are you alright?” “I’m not hurt,” you promised. “No,” he said softly. “I mean, are you alright? You just saw something terrifying. Sydney told us how you ran after that girl. That’s so brave, Y/n.” You nodded firmly. “I had to protect my camper.” Liam shot you a grin. “Who knew girl scouts could be so badass?” You laughed softly. “I think I’m pretty skilled with a canoe paddle...hey,what happened to that guy?” “The wendigo?” Liam asked. “Scott and Stiles took him down another trail to the Sheriff. They didn’t want to scare the girls.” “Thank you,” you breathed gratefully. “Me and Sydney appreciate it. And...I’m really glad you’re okay.” Liam smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay too. Honestly, when I heard on Stiles’ radio that Patrick was in the preserve, I panicked. I remembered what you said about being out here and I got worried.” You blinked. “Didn’t I say that to Corey?” “You did,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I was kind of listening in.” You smiled and tilted your head. “Why?” “Because I like you,” he confessed as his cheeks began to flush. “I really like you. And I wanted to know what you were doing this weekend so I could ask you out, but-” “ I was on the trip,” you finished, your smile brightening. “Exactly,” he breathed. “But hey, looks like we get to hang out anyway, right?” You nodded. “You saved my life, Liam.” He shrugged. “It was nothing.” “It was everything,” you countered. “And I think I owe you at least one date.” Liam swallowed. “Really?” “Really,” you told him. “Besides, after we drop the kids off and tell all the parents what happened, I’m free tonight.” You grinned at Liam, and he laughed softly. “So, do you get a badge for saving that girl’s life?” You rolled your eyes. “I think knowing I made sure she wasn’t eaten is enough.” “Do you still have your little outfit? With the sash and everything?” Liam asked with a laugh. “Uh, maybe,” you said defensively. “It was very fashionable in 2007.” “You’ll have to show me sometime.” “Only if you show me the Devenford Prep uniform,” you fired back with a smug smile. Liam laughed once more. “Okay. I think we should probably go over to the others. Those kids look like they’re trying to tie Lydia to a tree.” “Wha-oh, Mina, come on!” you called as you watched her pull out her shoelaces and give them to one of the other girls as rope. “Jesus Christ. I’ll be back.” “Take your time,” Liam told you. “We’ve got all night.” You headed toward your scouts, but you suddenly glanced back over your shoulder to shoot Liam a warm smile. It had been a bizarre day, and you had almost been made into a human shish kabob, but you had to say the night had taken a spectacular turn. And if you were being honest, now that Liam was there, you didn’t really want it to end.

#teen wolf imagines #teen wolf #selfignitingimagines #liam dunbar imagines

[dorcasrempel]

Mirrored chip could enable handheld dark-field microscopes

Do a Google search for dark-field images, and you’ll discover a beautifully detailed world of microscopic organisms set in bright contrast to their midnight-black backdrops. Dark-field microscopy can reveal intricate details of translucent cells and aquatic organisms, as well as faceted diamonds and other precious stones that would otherwise appear very faint or even invisible under a typical bright-field microscope.

Scientists generate dark-field images by fitting standard microscopes with often costly components to illumate the sample stage with a hollow, highly angled cone of light. When a translucent sample is placed under a dark-field microscope, the cone of light scatters off the sample’s features to create an image of the sample on the microscope’s camera, in bright contrast to the dark background.

Now, engineers at MIT have developed a small, mirrored chip that helps to produce dark-field images, without dedicated expensive components. The chip is slightly larger than a postage stamp and as thin as a credit card. When placed on a microscope’s stage, the chip emits a hollow cone of light that can be used to generate detailed dark-field images of algae, bacteria, and similarly translucent tiny objects.

The new optical chip can be added to standard microscopes as an affordable, downsized alternative to conventional dark-field components. The chip may also be fitted into hand-held microscopes to produce images of microorganisms in the field.

“Imagine you’re a marine biologist,” says Cecile Chazot, a graduate student in MIT’s Department of Materials Science and Engineering. “You normally have to bring a big bucket of water into the lab to analyze. If the sample is bad, you have to go back out to collect more samples. If you have a hand-held, dark-field microscope, you can check a drop in your bucket while you’re out at sea, to see if you can go home or if you need a new bucket.”

Chazot is the lead author of a paper detailing the team’s new design, published today in the journal Nature Photonics. Her co-authors are Sara Nagelberg, Igor Coropceanu, Kurt Broderick, Yunjo Kim, Moungi Bawendi, Peter So, and Mathias Kolle of MIT, along with Christopher Rowlands at Imperial College London and Maik Scherer of Papierfabrik Louisenthal GmbH in Germany.

Forever fluorescent

In an ongoing effort, members of Kolle’s lab are designing materials and devices that exhibit long-lasting “structural colors” that do not rely on dyes or pigmentation. Instead, they employ nano- and microscale structures that reflect and scatter light much like tiny prisms or soap bubbles. They can therefore appear to change colors depending on how their structures are arranged or manipulated.

Structural color can be seen in the iridescent wings of beetles and butterflies, the feathers of birds, as well as fish scales and some flower petals. Inspired by examples of structural color in nature, Kolle has been investigating various ways to manipulate light from a microscopic, structural perspective.

As part of this effort, he and Chazot designed a small, three-layered chip that they originally intended to use as a miniature laser. The middle layer functions as the chip’s light source, made from a polymer infused with quantum dots — tiny nanoparticles that emit light when excited with fluorescent light. Chazot likens this layer to a glowstick bracelet, where the reaction of two chemicals creates the light; except here no chemical reaction is needed — just a bit of blue light will make the quantum dots shine in bright orange and red colors.

“In glowsticks, eventually these chemicals stop emitting light,” Chazot says. “But quantum dots are stable. If you were to make a bracelet with quantum dots, they would be fluorescent for a very long time.”

Over this light-generating layer, the researchers placed a Bragg mirror — a structure made from alternating nanoscale layers of transparent materials, with distinctly different refractive indices, meaning the degrees to which the layers reflect incoming light.

The Bragg mirror, Kolle says, acts as a sort of “gatekeeper” for the photons that are emitted by the quantum dots. The arrangement and thicknesses of the mirror’s layers is such that it lets photons escape up and out of the chip, but only if the light arrives at the mirror at high angles. Light arriving at lower angles is bounced back down into the chip.

The researchers added a third feature below the light-generating layer to recycle the photons initially rejected by the Bragg mirror. This third layer is molded out of solid, transparent epoxy coated with a reflective gold film and resembles a miniature egg crate, pocked with small wells, each measuring about 4 microns in diameter.

Chazot lined this surface with a thin layer of highly reflective gold — an optical arrangement that acts to catch any light that reflects back down from the Bragg mirror, and ping-pong that light back up, likely at a new angle that the mirror would let through. The design for this third layer was inspired by the microscopic scale structure in the wings of the Papilio butterfly.

“The butterfly’s wing scales feature really intriguing egg crate-like structures with a Bragg mirror lining, which gives them their iridescent color,” Chazot says.

An optical shift

The researchers originally designed the chip as an array of miniature laser sources, thinking that its three layers could work together to create tailored laser emission patterns.

“The initial project was to build an assembly of individually switchable coupled microscale lasing cavities,” says Kolle, associate professor of mechanical engineering at MIT. “But when Cecile made the first surfaces we realized that they had a very interesting emission profile, even without the lasing.”

When Chazot had looked at the chip under a microscope, she noticed something curious: The chip emitted photons only at high angles forming a hollow cone of light. Turns out, the Bragg mirror had just the right layer thicknesses to  only let photons pass through when they came at the mirror with a certain (high) angle.

“Once we saw this hollow cone of light, we wondered: ‘Could this device be useful for something?’” Chazot says. “And the answer was: Yes!”

As it turns out, they had incorporated the capabilities of multiple expensive, bulky dark-field microscope components into a single small chip.

Chazot and her colleagues used well-established theoretical optical concepts to model the chip’s optical properties to optimize its performance for this newly found task. They fabricated multiple chips, each producing a hollow cone of light with a tailored angular profile.  

“Regardless of the microscope you’re using, among all these tiny little chips, one will work with your objective,” Chazot says.

To test the chips, the team collected samples of seawater as well as nonpathogenic strains of the bacteria E. coli, and placed each sample on a chip that they set on the platform of a standard bright-field microscope. With this simple setup, they were able to produce clear and detailed dark-field images of individual bacterial cells, as well as microorganisms in seawater, which were close to invisible under bright-field illumination.

In the near future these dark-field illumination chips could be mass-produced and tailored for even simple, high school-grade microscopes, to enable imaging of low-contrast, translucent biological samples. In combination with other work in Kolle’s lab, the chips may also be incorporated into miniaturized dark-field imaging devices for point-of-care diagnostics and bioanalytical applications in the field.  

“This is a wonderful story of discovery based innovation that has the potential for widespread impact in science and education through outfitting garden-variety microscopes with this technology,” says James Burgess, program manager for the Institute for Soldier Nanotechnologies, Army Research Office. “Additionally, the ability to obtain superior contrast in imaging of biological and inorganic materials under optical magnification could be incorporated into systems for identification of new biological threats and toxins in Army Medical Center laboratories and on the battlefield.”

This research was supported, in part, by the National Science Foundation, the U.S. Army Research Office, and the National Institutes of Health.

Mirrored chip could enable handheld dark-field microscopes syndicated from https://osmowaterfilters.blogspot.com/