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sweettjrose · 8 months

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Detective Mickey Pilot P.3

Finally, Part 3 is done and I am really happy with how it came out. This is definitely a longer part, but I got it to end where I wanted. I also got to finally write for the character I am excited, and a bit nervous, to write for. I really hope I did him justice. I tried to match the tone and feel of the comics that portray him in a bit more of a serious through still playful light, but also some traits of my own. You'll see what I mean.

I will say though as expected this did end up being much longer than expected and I will have most likely 6 parts instead of 5. Which means I am about halfway done which is crazy to me. I don't think that should change, based on an outline I made, but it is still possible.

Again I am so thankful for all your support. I really appreciate your shares and likes (is that what they are called on Tumblr).

But without further ado, here is part 3 (This one didn't rhyme)

Previous Part: X

Next Part: X

Mickey couldn’t have been standing there for more than a couple of seconds, but to him it felt like hours. A lightning strikes from behind illuminating the large and imposing stature of the person in front of him. He tries his best to back away from the intimidating shadowy figure, as the wanted poster and the warnings surrounding it flash throughout his mind, he wasn't able to stop his mouth from sputtering “Y-you’re… Y-you’re…” “The Phantom Blot?'' the figure finished “Pleasure to meet you”. Mickey quickly felt the back of his foot touch the edge of the ledge, reminding himself that he is on the roof of this building. At night. Alone. With this guy. Crap. Mickey looks up at the towering figure again, not hiding any sense of fear. This man couldn’t have been that much taller than Goofy, but for some reason at this moment he felt 10 feet tall. During this, The Phantom Blot silently watches the little mouse carefully, noting every little move he makes. Though you couldn’t see his face, he appears quite amused and is relishing in the fear the mouse displays. Eventually, he decides to speak again.

He cheekily asks the mouse who he is and what he could be doing on this fine night. Mickey doesn’t respond as he still seems to be in shock at what is going on. The Blot chuckles to himself and jokes about how speechless the mouse is and how he tends to have that effect on people. He also remarks that the air is “quite thin” up here and perhaps the mouse may be more talkative on the ground. The Phantom Blot then leads Mickey to a pole and gestures for the mouse to go down first. Almost instinctively Mickey drops down the pole, before quickly realizing that this could be his best chance to escape. The second he reaches the bottom he does his best to bolt out of the alley… Only for his shirt collar to be caught by the Blot who chides him for attempting to escape before they finished their conversation. The Phantom Blot then drags him over to the trap with the camera, holding tightly onto Mickey’s collar.

Assured that the mouse won’t try to escape again, he questions the mouse again, this time only asking for a name. A defeated Mickey Mouse answers him, stuttering out the response. The Blot makes a snide comment about Mouse being a common last name, before moving onto his next question asking what the mouse is doing. Mickey gives in and explains about how he was trying to capture a thief that was going around stealing cameras. The Phantom Blot seems to instantly notice the trap and pulls it apart, remarking about how the mouse should have used a different kind of knot if he really wanted to be effective and that he could do a better job at hiding it. He then easily picks up the camera and pockets it into his cloak. Further bringing shame to the mouse.

Afterwards, the Phantom Blot continues to prod for more information on why Mickey wanted to capture this thief, this time a bit more seriously and scary. Mickey quietly squeaks about how he works at the Mouseton Argus and how he was hoping to write a story about the crime. As he somberly answers the shadowy figure’s questions, trying to do his best to avoid his frightening eyes, Mickey can feel himself coming to terms with his fate. There is no way this man is just going to let him walk. There is a good chance he could die here. He could never see Pluto, Donald, Goofy, Felicity, Clarabelle, Horace, Morty, Ferdie and Min… Minnie. He never even got a chance to say goodbye to Minnie. All for some stupid story. What did he get himself into? The shadowy figure makes a comment about how it is odd that a couple of missing cheap cameras would be good enough for a story, but I guess everybody starts somewhere. He then really starts to look at the mouse, this time not just trying to observe his actions, but trying to read him, understand who he really is. The large man crouches in front of Mickey, meeting him eye to eye, this time gripping his large hands hard onto Mickey’s shoulder, instead of his collar. Mickey still tries to avoid eye contact, though finding it a bit more challenging. Once he got his fill, he gave a cruel laugh and smiled through his eyes, claiming he knows what really is going on here.

The Phantom Blot starts explaining about how Mickey is someone who is not happy with their lot in life, an unimportant nobody who wants to move up the totem pole and get what they think they deserve. So he tried to do something brave and bold in hopes that it would help him stand out and rise to the top. But unfortunately this little fish is starting to see why they shouldn’t swim with the sharks, or in other words, the mouse bit off a bit more than he could chew. The Blot chuckles to himself as the mouse seems to take every word to heart and part of the fear he feels morphs into shame. The Blot continues that normally he would take great pleasure in teaching the little mouse a lesson, but it seems like he already learned it. You know, despite what others say, he isn’t really one for wanton violence, given his “soft-heart” and all that. Plus he just isn’t in the right mood and it isn’t fun, if he isn’t in the mood. So perhaps he may be willing to let the mouse go just this one time. Mickey’s ears perk up at this as he gives the cloaked man a confused look. The Blot continues his speech adding that the mouse doesn’t have to shower him with gratitude, that would be rather annoying, all he has to do is forget this whole situation and go back to his pathetic unimportant life where he belongs… And stay there. Besides, it isn’t like anyone would believe him anyways.

Mickey, shocked at what he thinks the man is saying, tries to sputter out a response, but is quickly interrupted by the Phantom Blot adding that the mouse should take advantage of this rare moment of charity. Because if not… He grips harder on Mickey’s shoulder… Well let’s just say he has some traps he has been dying to try out and would love a lab rat. The Phantom Blot then loosens his grip on the mouse’s shoulder and starts to get up. Clearly getting ready to leave. Mickey still seems to be processing what is going on before instinctively yelling “Wait” at the shadowy figure. The man faces him one more time, his frightening eyes glowing as pure white as the full moon in the sky and his haunting deep black cloak vanishing in the shadows of the night.

“It’s best to think of this as a bad dream. If you’re lucky… You’ll never have to see me again”

and with lightning quick speed the man picks up the mouse by the front of his collar and tosses him against the alley wall knocking him out. Hearing the echoes of villainous laughter before it all fades to black.

Hours seem to have passed as the cool night starts to shift into a warm day. It seems like it did rain a little bit last night as the alley is drenched in water from the rain collectors on the nearby buildings. We then pan to Mickey who still seems to be knocked out between a couple of trash cans. Suddenly the leaf of a plant on top of a window sill fills up with enough water for it to unravel, dropping the water on Mickey’s head. This seems to wake him up as he spits out the water. He groggily looks around and tries to make sense of his surroundings. Where is he? How did he get here? Mickey tries his best to stand up, stretching as he didn’t exactly sleep in an ideal position. He feels around for his phone and finds it cracked with no battery. Despite his head hurting, he tries his best to think about what happened. He was looking for a specific missing camera. The Little Korker V39. He found one at Horace’s place. He used it to set up a trap. And then… horrifying white eyes flash through his mind… “a bad dream” rings in his ears... Did that really happen? Did he actually meet the Phantom Blot? THE Phantom Blot. Mickey sits down on a box as he tries to put his thoughts together.

There is no way that could have actually been him. The Phantom Blot is a master criminal that deals in high end crime worth hundreds of millions of dollars all over the world. Why would he be in Mouseton taking cheap cameras? He holds his head again as another migrain pulses through. Perhaps he just fell and knocked himself out. He looks around and sees that the camera is gone from where he remembers placing it. He also notices that the trap he set was very carefully dismantled. All of the sudden memories of the cloaked figure pocketing the camera and taking apart the trap rush into his mind giving him another headache. Mickey tries his best to look around for any clues, any other signs that the Blot was here. Any proof that he didn’t just imagine it. But struggles to find anything of note. He stops. He takes a breath. He may not see anything physical. But. He can still feel it. The fear. The fear from the moment is still somehow fresh in his heart. And maybe that is proof enough.

Mickey looks at himself and realizes how soggy and dirty his clothes are. Well the best he can do is go home now. Pluto has been left alone for quite a while and he could use some cleaning up. He tries to remember where he parked, thankfully still finding his car there and drives off. Not being able to keep his mind off of whatever may have happened last night. Eventually he is able to get home. He feeds a very worried Pluto, and takes a shower wearing a new set of clean clothes. He looks at his now charged phone and sees a couple of messages from Minnie last night. The typical good night and good morning messages she always sends, and he usually sends back. He should probably call her soon, so she doesn’t worry. He then noticed the long long list of missed calls from his boss. He looks at the clock. Crap. Late Again. At that moment, the phone rings. It’s the Editor in Chief. He takes a deep breath and the answers. All he hears is five words “Come. To. My. Office. Now” before the other side hangs up. He sighs again, not looking forward to that.

We cut to Mickey already in the Editor in Chief’s office, honestly more tired than worried. The Editor (By the way I realized I never clarified what animal the Editor was because he ended up playing a bigger role than I expected. Let’s say a Hawk) paces in front of his desk with the fake Mickey that the real Mickey made yesterday sitting on top of it. He goes on about how Mickey has been late 3 times in a row, seems to be getting behind on his work, and even tried to use this thing, as he gestures to the fake Mickey, to get out of work. Mickey tries to pipe in only for the large bird person to continue. He says that he has been giving Mickey some slack out of respect for his sister and his previous good behavior, but is feeling his patience wearing thin. He then asks Mickey what could possibly be causing all this trouble. Mickey finally has some time to explain and tries to bring up the case about the missing cameras. However once he mentions the cameras the Editor stops him and laughs. Not a comical laugh, more of a frustrated one. He can’t believe that Mickey is causing all this trouble over a couple of missing cameras. Mickey tries to add that there is more to this and he just uncovered a big break in the case that could lead to the story of a lifetime. The Editor looks at him waiting for a response. But Mickey stops himself, realizing how crazy it would be to mention the Phantom Blot. He might as well say that Al Capone stole his socks. Plus he is still processing whether or not he actually met him or if it was a bad dream. Annoyed by the silence the Hawk sighs and says that he will give Mickey one more chance. But Mickey will need to drop whatever camera story he is looking into and to continue his normal work without complaint. Mickey wants to say something, but is unsure what he could even possibly say. The Editor tells him to get back to work and to get rid of this thing, as he points to the fake Mickey. Mickey complies and drags the fake version of him back to his desk.

Mickey sulks over to his desk, thinking about his current situation. You know maybe it is a good thing to drop this whole camera fiasco. He’s at risk of losing his job, his body still aches from sleeping on the street, and it is just a couple of cheap cameras. But as he tries to open his laptop and go through emails, he can’t stop his mind from wandering. That had to be the Phantom Blot right? The memory is too fresh to feel like a dream. Plus where else did the camera go and who else dismantled his trap. This could explain how there were no traces left at the other locations. Without a thought he instantly starts searching up the Phantom Blot on the web and skims through articles about his thefts. Even seeing an article about a missing emerald. Aha! Apparently it is said that the Blot is said to be so skilled at theft that most people don’t even find out they were stolen from until years later, leaving absolutely no traces. Sometimes he leaves notes, but usually he will leave a fake in its place or even nothing at all. If he could steal gems from museums with the best security systems money can buy, he could totally steal cameras from a couple of pawn shops as if it were nothing. But now the question is why. The Phantom Blot deals tends to steal items that are worth millions. Why would a couple of cameras catch his interest? There has to be more here. Something that even a large enough villain as him would care about. Something truly wicked. Just as Mickey considered the possibilities one of his coworkers dropped a giant pile of paperwork at his desk and gave him humorous but confusing instructions on which ones to print copies of, which ones to staple, and which ones to scan. Oh yeah work… Well whatever the Phantom Blot is planning, he won’t be able to figure it out. He can’t risk his job. Plus even then what can he do… He’s just a Junior Assistant Photojournalist in Training… He’s just an unimportant nobody… He’s just a mouse.

At that moment his phone buzzes and he takes a quick look. It’s Horace. Horace messages him mentioning that he found something really important about the cameras. Mickey sighs, messaging back that he is dropping the case. He immediately heads over to the large amount of paperwork and tries to remember the confusing instructions. His phone buzzes again and he reads a message from Horace asking if he is sure. Mickey sighs again, and types that he is sure, heading back to the piles of paper. Before getting one more final buzz from Horace

“K if that is what u want 👍”

... What he wants… What he wants… What… is he doing? Here he is just about to resign the rest of his life to boring paperwork, as if there isn’t an important mystery that needs to be solved. Mickey knows for sure that if he were to drop this case now he would regret every day since. He doesn’t even care about the story anymore. Something is not sitting right with him about this whole situation and he, Mickey T. Mouse, is going to be the one to find out why. He picks up his phone again and texts Horace that he changed his mind and will be stopping by after work. After that he proudly smiles, glad to feel his optimism come back and confident that he made the right choice.

We see Mickey as he drives up to the same apartments as before and knocks on the door to Horace house. Horace greets him, glad that he changed his mind. Horace starts to jump into a deep explanation as they head over to his room, before stopping and pulling something out of a box. It’s Ol’ Reliable. Excited Mickey takes the camera and jokes about how he’s surprised Horace didn’t sell it. Horace confirms that he wouldn’t sell anything that meaningful to a friend and even cleaned it up using a special camera cleaning technique he learned online. Mickey thanks him and puts the beloved camera around his neck. Horace then restarts his explanation. As he mentioned before, he decided to look more into these cameras to see what could make them so valuable, but had a hard time finding anything since they just seemed so generic. But when he decided to go to the library on a whim and check out some old newspapers, he ended up finding an article about the guy who apparently made the cameras. Horace then shows a photo of a middle aged dog along with a copy of a small news article. Horace explains that this is Jimmy Korker, who was an inventor of the Little Korker Cameras and owned the company who made them. He explains how the article mentioned how he got arrested, while at one of his mansions in Mouseton. Horace couldn’t find exactly what got him arrested, but saw that there were theories of terrorism or conspiracy in the article. Horace struggled to find much about the situation, even on the internet, outside of the fact that he likely wasn’t held for long and that Jimmy sold the company not too long after the date of the arrest. Horace also cheekily asks Mickey if he knows what was the last version of the camera sold before he left the company. Mickey responds with the Little Korker V39. And Horace winks. Bingo.

Mickey cheerily takes in this information, taking notes and thanking Horace for looking into this. He loves how thorough Horace can be when he really gets interested in a subject. Mickey wonders out loud if perhaps, whatever Jimmy Korker was arrested for could be connected to why the Phantom Blot wants the cameras. “The who?”... Oh right Horace doesn’t know yet. Taking a deep breath Mickey tries to explain what happened last night with his encounter with the Phantom Blot. As he explains, Horace's cheerful demeanor drops into a more horrified one. Afterwards, Horace asks if Mickey is sure that he met with THE Phantom Blot and not just misremembered. But Mickey confirms that it had to be the Blot. It is possible it could have been an impersonator or maybe just an illusion but, as memories of the cold white eyes pierce his mind… It felt too real. Horace takes a deep breath, still stunned about what he heard. He remarks that he used to do research on the Phantom Blot back when he was training to be the next Robin Hood. Mickey rolls his eyes, remembering all the broken windows he had to fix at his family’s house when Horace was “practicing”. Horace continues about how he tried to learn his tricks, so that he could use it for “good”, but the more and more he learned about this guy and what he was capable of. He knew that this wasn’t the right field for him. The dude’s a criminal genius and no one can even come close to what he can do. Horace then remarks that he is surprised that Mickey is still alive, as the Phantom Blot isn’t afraid to off anyone who gets in the way. Mickey adds that he does think it is odd, though noted that the Blot said he had a “soft-heart” though Mickey could tell he was joking. Horace wonders if maybe it is because the Phantom Blot doesn’t think Mickey would be able to do anything meaningful or useful and that killing him would be just a waste of time. Before realizing what he said to a slightly annoyed Mickey.

Mickey then brings the topic back to the article and asks Horace if he happens to know where this mansion is. Horace looks up something on the computer and shows an abandoned mansion on a maps website (Think Google Maps). Great it is still there and looks to be abandoned. Mickey then remarks that his best chance to learn more about this “crime” is there. Thankfully he has tomorrow off, so he will have plenty of time to look at the place, without having to worry about going to work the next day. Horace also says that he will continue to look into this and see if he can find more information. Right before Mickey heads out, Horace wonders if he is going to wear a disguise. Mickey is confused at first about the need for a disguise, until Horace mentions that if this is connected to the cameras and the Phantom Blot, he may be in the area and may not be so kind if he recognizes him again. Mickey admits that Horace is right and asks if he has anything he can use. Horace pulls out an old box labeled “PATH TO BECOME FAMOUS ACTOR #4” and pulls out a top hat, a fake beard, some glasses, as well as some old looking clothes to go with it. They oddly enough fit Mickey well and Mickey thanks him before rushing off to the address of the old mansion.

When Mickey reaches the mansion the sun has already set and the moon is out. There doesn’t seem to be many buildings in this area due to the giant yards. The mouse heads out of his car to try and see if he can open the large gates that lead to the mansion. Surprisingly they are unlocked and he is able to open the gate with no problem. The mouse keeps himself alert, trying to notice anything that seems off in his surroundings. But currently all he can see are the lights of some night-time bikers trying to get some exercise. He dodges behind his car as they pass by. After they leave, seemingly unaware of the open gate, he quickly drives his car into the yard, closing the gate behind him and tries to find a place to park. Some place where someone wouldn’t find his car. He then sneaks over to the front door, as quietly as he can, keeping an eye on everything around him. He tries to see if the door is unlocked and to his surprise again it is also unlocked. One door unlocked is lucky. Two are suspicious.. He will have to be extra careful walking around this house, as he can’t really reschedule, despite the danger. He quickly sneaks in and pulls out a flashlight. The flashlight he brought is pretty dim, which was an annoyance whenever he went camping, but is perfect for sneaking. Gives just enough light to see, without giving his location away. He looks around at what is a mostly empty large room with a stray piece of furniture here and there as well as some frames with a picture of Jimmy Korker and what is likely his family. There is a staircase in the middle that leads up to two hallways each leading to the opposite side of the house. He looks to each side of the room that also has two giant doors leading to other rooms… Well guess he better start searching.

Mickey spends about an hour searching each room, being as quiet as well… A mouse. For a while he is unsure that he will be able to find anything, until he happens to gaze upon a portrait above an empty fireplace in one of the rooms. This portrait is odd as the other ones around were more serious and this one is more silly, with Jimmy Korker goofily holding up his hands like a hitchhiker pointing to the left. Mickey thought about the comics and cartoons he watched where usually this would lead to some kind of clue… Wait… What if. He looks to the left and notices that there appears to be a Knight in the left corner of the room who is looking to the center of the back room. Wait… Why is there a knight in an American mansion? Focus. Mickey then follows the trail and notices on the back wall there is another frame that is empty but on the top of the frame there is a duck character looking down and on the bottom there is a knob. He goes to the knob and turns it, which creates a loud noise behind him as he looks to see that the fireplace has swiveled around revealing a staircase. Hot Dog! Mickey immediately runs down the steps just as the fireplace continues to close again. He walks down the wooden steps, carefully to avoid any squeaky steps and avoid any traps that could be placed.

When he gets to the bottom he sees a medium sized circle room that is covered with papers. Most of the papers seem to be hung up on the round walls. He instantly got out his camera and started to take as many pictures as he could, while also trying to get a sense of what they say. One thing that sticks out is an article that looks very similar to the one Horace found at the library. However he sees notes around it written in black ink, wondering about some kind of chemical that was being trafficked from Mouseton. Mickey then notices another picture which seems to be the blueprints for the Little Korker V39, however he notices a specific area that is highlighted to show a compartment within the camera. He looked around some more and then noticed a table. Surprised that he didn’t pick it up at first he sees what appears to be some kind of green liquid in a vial inside a glass case. Mickey instinctively tries to open the case, but unfortunately it seems to be locked and attached to the table which is also bolted to the ground. But maybe it was fortunately Mickey thought as he realized that he isn’t sure if the chemical may be radioactive. He gets ready to jump back, but notices a book on top of the table. This one has different handwriting than the others.

As he reads through it, he starts to realize that this may be the journal of Jimmy Korker. Apparently he was supposed to send the last shipment, each shipment having 250 Little Korker V39 cameras, that will be sent to… Mickey can’t seem to read the location as it is scratched out. He says that this is the last set with the chemicals implanted in them and should also be the one that also includes the blueprints for… This also seems to be scratched out… in one of the cameras. However the FBI were hot on his trail and he had to send it through unusual means. Unfortunately this resulted in the shipment being lost and he still ended up getting arrested. Apparently this whole situation has put him through a lot of trouble and he had to pay a lot of money to avoid this getting out to the press. Though he couldn’t pay off one small local newspaper. But he wasn��t worried as nobody really reads their articles anyways. He says that all of this stress on his wife and son made him realize that he cares too much about them to continue this life of crime. So he has decided to sell his company and find some place off the map to live with them.

So this is why the Phantom Blot wants these cameras so much, Mickey thought to himself. He must be trying to find the ones that still have the chemical in it. I bet they are worth a lot. He also looked over to the part about the blueprint, wondering if he is after that as well. As Mickey takes a picture of the page, trying to get it as readable as he can, he notices some loose papers sticking out of another page. He turns to that page to see designs of some kind of weird mechanism that seems to use the chemicals. This seems to be the same person who has written the notes on the wall, now that Mickey thinks about it, there is a big chance this is the Phantom Blot. Hmm… He is a pretty good artist. Mickey picks up that he seems to be trying to draw something based on the description in the book. But what is it, some kind of tool… toy… But then a sudden thought came to mind as he started to put the descriptions and the drawings together… Weapon. It’s a weapon. Mickey's heart sank as he came to this realization. If the Phantom Blot gets a hand on this weapon, who knows what he could do. He could try to extort entire countries out of their wealth out of fear for destruction. Or he could sell it to other villains who could use it for their own nefarious needs. So many innocent people could die. As Mickey started to put his thoughts together he realized he knew what he had to do. He has to do everything in his power to stop the Phantom Blot from finding this blueprint… That is if he hasn’t already.

Taking some final pictures, Mickey tries to leave, but finds that a piece of paper has stuck to his hand. He pulls it off slowly revealing what appears to be a set of talleys. He counts the talleys to where there appears to be 237. Mickey quickly puts together that this is probably the amount of cameras that the Blot has already found. That leaves about 13 left. Mickey is impressed he managed to find so many, especially after such a long period of time, but then a sudden realization hit him. The paper with the talleys are still sticky. That means it is wet. That means it wasn’t written that long ago. He needs to get out of here. Now. Mickey tries his best to leave the room as he found it and quietly but quickly exits the mansion. On the way he starts to come up with a plan. Since he intentionally avoided taking any writings with him and placed everything just as he found it, the Phantom Blot wouldn’t know that he was here. But luckily with help from Ol’ Reliable, he has enough pictures that will be just the evidence he needs to get the police involved. If he can be quick enough, they should be able to sniff the place out before the Phantom Blot even gets a chance to take anything and run. With the whole force on his side they should have no issues getting the final 13 cameras, if they are still around, and hopefully find the blueprint before he even gets a chance. Hey, maybe they can even catch the Phantom Blot once and for all. Mickey laughs to himself in his head, that last one may be a stretch too far since the Blot has never been caught before, but you can always dream. Mickey honestly can’t stop smiling, excited that things seem to be really going his way. He didn’t even see that creep in the cloak at all tonight and he is so close to where he hid his car. So Close. Or at least he was… Until he felt a cold metal cylinder touch the back of his neck, causing him to freeze instantly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

#disney #mickey mouse #mickey and friends #Mickey mouse and friends #mouseverse #disney comics #disney cartoon #disney channel #disney+#phantom blot #blot #horace horsecollar #detective mickey pilot idea #detective mickey #pilot ideas #pilot

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alifeasvivid · 7 months

Text

Negotiations, Episode 18 of The Thief of Spades, Season 2 (T+)

>.> been over a year. Also episodes 16 and 17 appear to have disappeared from tumblr, but they are on AO3. I'll have to remedy this later.

Chapter Rating: T+ Warnings: None Summary: Alfred strikes a deal with Gem-A. Feliciano attacks Ludwig. Arthur and Kiku avoid the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Word Count: ~2800

Read here on AO3.

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

It would have been more fun if she had locked him in some dark interrogation room with a cold metal table, a two-way mirror and only one lamp hanging from the ceiling, Alfred thinks. Instead, he sits in Lucille Bonnet’s office which is well-lit and tastefully decorated with lush reds and warm caramel browns. He had insisted on holding onto the spinel even when a pair of her employees (more like henchmen as far as Alfred is concerned) came and abducted him.

They are standing outside the door.

“Alfred,” she says with a careful smile, “Or do you prefer Mr. ‘Of Spades’?”

“Ha. Alfred’s fine,” he says.

Lucille nods. “Bien.” She perches herself primly in her office chair with the elegant comportment of someone much older than herself. “Now then, you might think you’re only here because of the red spinel in your possession, but—”

“Actually I don’t think that at all,” Alfred interrupts out of nerves more than any intention to be rude. If he can actually pull this off, it will change everything. “I think I’m here because you want to know how I know the real story of it. You probably also want to know how I got ahold of the California Bubbly morganite and why I gave it back instead of fencing it.”

Lucille’s excessively cordial demeanor fades into a more focused, business-like air. “That is quite clever of you, hm? To the point then. I would like to know all of those things, Mr. Jones and I can assure you that you would very much like to tell me.”

Alfred nods. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’ll just level with you, Miss Bonnet,” he says, placing the spinel on the fancy leather blotter on her desk. “I’ve deciphered the code that’s used by the more powerful and high ranking members of the Gem-A since the beginning. I’m sure you know that means I can access any of the most confidential records of your organization at any time. I’m sure you also know what kind of information those records frequently contain.”

In an effort to seem unaffected by Alfred’s statement, Lucille first pulls out a white cotton glove and examines the spinel with her loupe; once she is satisfied that it is the correct stone, she removes the glove and folds her hands on her desk. “And how, exactly, did you do that?”

Alfred meets her serious gaze with his own to match. “I found a cipher. In the library of a manor formerly owned by one of Gem-A’s previous directors. I can find anything and everything now, as I’ve demonstrated by discovering one of your current directors’ mistresses and by knowing that it was a member of the Gem-A who stole and concealed the Blood Oath Ruby.”

Lucille waves one of her hands gracefully and dismissively. “So you found an old journal and decided you had also found a conspiracy, is that it?”

“Something like that,” Alfred says flatly.

“Well, we’re constantly in the process of digitizing all of our old records anyway, so who’s to say that we will even need this code for much longer?”

Alfred smirks. “You and I both know that the only way to keep anything hidden these days is to keep it off of a computer. Besides, I know that many of the most confidential and damning records pre-date the organization. Some of the ones I’ve seen are over three hundred years old and plenty could be older. I found that journal tucked in between some encyclopedias in a massive, old library on someone’s private property. There are tons of records stored the exact same way.”

Lucille’s eyes widen only briefly before her expression becomes placid again.

Alfred leans forward. “Somebody could do a lot of damage while you’re trying to put everything out there for any hacker to find. Somebody might even get a damn good offer for that information from the GIA.”

Lucille lifts her chin and glares at him. “Point taken. So what is it you want?”

“I want out.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t want to be the Thief of Spades anymore. I want out.”

“So stop stealing things,” Lucille says simply.

Alfred shakes his head. “You know it doesn’t work like that. The Thief of Spades has a reputation. I can’t just suddenly drop off the grid, the CIA, Interpol, they’ll leave the case open. Not to mention I haven’t exactly made a ton of friends in underworld, right? If I just disappear, they’ll always be looking for me. I have to go out with a bang. One last job.”

Lucille raises her eyebrow. “And what do you think that we can do for you?”

“Le coeur de filou.”

“And I suppose you are blackmailing us into letting you steal it?”

Alfred shakes his head. He pulls a small usb drive from his pocket and slides it over to her. “No, I want it legitimately. I want to buy it from you and then I want you to let the Thief of Spades steal it. At the upcoming gala for it.”

“And you have legitimate money for this?”

Alfred nods. “Yes, it’s all on that flash drive. I own a building. A huge, luxury residential building here in London. The current market value is worth more than the alexandrite, let alone the revenue from leasing. It’s under a clean identity, not mine.”

“Who then?”

“Charles Foster. He was my grandfather. All the information you need is on that stick. It’s all above board, I swear.”

Lucille nods and then looks at the usb drive held by her delicate fingers and then up at Alfred. “Indeed, you do seem quite sincere. Yet I find myself having difficulty believing you. You know our code. You know that you have this entire organization at your fingertips now. Why is it you want so little? If we do this for you, how can we be assured that you won’t decide you don’t want ‘out’ as you say and use that information against us?”

“I do want out,” he says emphatically. “I want it more than anything. I want a normal life.”

Despite everything, Lucille a romantic at heart and grins slyly now as the realization dawns on her: Inspector Kirkland. “In only a few short years, the Thief of Spades has become an internationally-known jewel thief who lives for nothing but the best, who goes to parties and rubs elbows with some of the wealthiest, most powerful people in Europe and gets away with whatever he likes. What is a normal life compared to that?”

“It’s everything,” Alfred says. “I don’t want anything to do with your organization. I have enough money to last me three lifetimes. The one thing the Thief of Spades can never have is a family, a… a home. I have people I love now,” he says quietly. “I want to be with them and I want to make beautiful things instead of stealing them. Look, if you ever see me messing with you guys, you have my permission to just take me out right then and there.”

Lucille smiles softly. “It is alright, I’m convinced. For our sake and yours, I am very pleased for you. Let me go over this information and if the property is worth as much as you say and can be purchased legitimately from ‘Mr. Foster’ then we have a deal.”

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

“What’s that damn look on your face?” Romano demands, poking his twin in the chest. It dawns on him what Feliciano is probably intending to do given that Ludwig is still in sight out the window of their cafe. “Feli, if you go after him, you’re dead to me.”

Feliciano can’t even find enough thoughts that aren’t about Ludwig kissing him to roll his eyes at Romano’s ridiculous statement. The chaste sweetness of the kiss makes it all the more romantic and precious in Feliciano’s mind. After so long seeing Ludwig stern and seemingly detached, such an expression of affection must mean that he has strong feelings for Feliciano after all.

In this state of joy, he tears off his apron and dashes out the door. He cannot let this moment slip away or he fears he will lose Ludwig forever.

“Ludwig!” he cries out. He beams with all the love he feels when Ludwig turns around, placing his phone in his pocket.

Ludwig is so surprised by Feliciano calling out his name, so surprised by the sweet expression on his face and even more surprised when Feliciano runs toward him, jumps into his arms and kisses him all over his face. Ludwig holds him tight, forgetting that anything in the world exists but the two of them in this moment, forgetting his work and his oaths and all of it. He kisses Feli softly on his lips, lets it linger as he sets him down.

Feliciano places his hands on Ludwig’s cheeks and looks into his eyes, once such an icy blue in his mind, they now seem a precious silver. “Ti amo. Ti amo I have love you for so long” he says. “So long and I thought… I thought you…”

“I know,” Ludwig says, suddenly very aware that they are standing outside on a busy sidewalk. He lets Feliciano lead him back into the cafe, enamored of the way the he keeps kissing Ludwig’s hand and he can feel his cheeks growing very warm. He pays no mind to Romano fuming and neither does Feliciano. He feels truly happy for the first time in such a very long time. Distantly, he thinks, surely Arthur Kirkland would understand.

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

Arthur has been allowed to go back to New Scotland Yard and resume working on normal cases, with the Agents calling him in only a few times a week. Arthur takes this to mean that they are easing off of the Thief of Spades case, which would really be splendid since Arthur is almost certain that Alfred might actually intend to quit his life as a thief. There might finally be a light at the end of the tunnel.

For this reason, he is initially rather pleased when he receives a call from Honda.

“Mr. Honda, ah,” he’s never sure how to greet the man. “It’s… good to hear from you.”

Kiku stays silent on the phone for just a moment too long. “Good evening, Inspector.”  His curt tone sets Arthur immediately on edge. “Ah, if you’re calling for any updates on Alfred, I think you’ll be pleased to know that I think I might be close to convincing him to give up his criminal life altogether.”

Kiku remains quiet for another very long moment. His affection for Alfred and his admiration of Inspector Kirkland are regrettably far outweighed by his need to protect his own interests at this point. “I had hoped it would be so, Inspector.” He sighs. “But I believe your view of the situation might be clouded. According to my knowledge, Alfred is in contact with the Gem-A, which is sure to put him in great danger—both from them and from Costa and Clark. To complicate matters further, he has not contacted me in far too long; I have learnt all of this information secondhand. You may have noticed by now that… perhaps, Alfred is not always the most adept at gauging the level of risk he is undertaking.”

Arthur frowns, wondering what Alfred could be doing directly contacting Gem-A, but presses on. “Yes, I had noticed that,” he says. “He’s got a bit of a blindspot when it comes to assessing threat levels as they pertain to himself. He bites off more than I think he can chew, but, Mr. Honda…” he blushes and thanks the heavens that Honda can’t see him. “I’ve grown… a lot closer to Alfred. I doubt I need to elaborate further than that given the many eyes and ears you have everywhere,” he pauses to let the polite accusation sink in. “I really do think that… I can convince him to leave the Thief of Spades behind.”

On some level, Kiku genuinely believes that Arthur is right. The detective is very persuasive with his strong conviction and staid charisma. His competence and pragmatic nature have impressed Kiku from the first moment he learned of him and he would be very glad to have someone like Arthur working for him, but things have already gone too far. Alfred is apparently determined to be far more reckless than Kiku had ever anticipated. “Inspector, I know that you speak the truth as far as you know it. But I have known Alfred longer than you have. There is nothing that can compel him to give up the life he has. He has always spoken at length about freedom and doing as he pleases with little regard for anyone else and that is what is most important to him.”

Arthur’s brow furrows more. “With all due respect, Mr. Honda, I do not believe that Alfred is currently as free as he thinks he is. I think he is starting to see that. I know that I—” he breathes deeply and exhales the words he has been trying in vain to say to Alfred, “Perhaps I cannot offer him complete freedom. I am not wealthy or well-connected. I’m an ordinary man with an ordinary life and an ordinary family, but I love him. Maybe he doesn’t need so much freedom anymore, maybe what he needs now is a home.”

Deep in Kiku Honda’s heart is a wistful romantic child that aches for Arthur’s words, but there’s too much on the line. Just as that dreamy-eyed child had to be smothered inside of himself, he must now perform the same cruel kindness on Arthur. “Your sincerity is admirable, Inspector. But you will never find such sincerity in dear Alfred. You are trying to steal a heart that isn’t there, trying to trap a thief with bait that holds no interest for him. What I admire most about Alfred is his ability to act with absolutely no regard for anything other than his own desires. To many people, this is not an admirable quality and I would not blame you if you were one of them.”

Arthur understands Honda’s indirect language quite easily: Alfred doesn’t love you and he will undoubtedly use your feelings to betray you. Fist clenching at his side, Arthur bites his tongue. It’s possible that not terribly long ago, Arthur would have believed him. If memories of Alfred’s smile, his touch, his body, his paint all over Arthur’s chest, in his own bed weren’t so easy to summon, Arthur would believe him, but now he knows he is right and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if some Japanese billionaire, quasi-legitimate businessman had ulterior motives. It would be more shocking if he didn’t, considering that his access to information is far greater than Arthur’s.

“I see,” Arthur replies diplomatically, playing his cards close to the vest. “So what does all this mean, then?”

“It means I am in the process of organizing his extrication from London.”

“Give me a little more time,” Arthur demands, though in a steady tone.

The romantic in Kiku’s heart echoes Arthur’s plea. After another long moment, he says “Very well, Inspector. There are still aspects that are not yet completed and they will take some time to resolve. If you have truly convinced him to abandon the Thief of Spades, I will call it off.”

The call is disconnected after that.

“Fuck!” Arthur shouts in frustration, almost throwing his phone at the couch in the living room. Is Alfred insane? Truly. Arthur can think of no other explanation as to why he would do something so idiotic as to stop communicating with the one man who holds Alfred’s life and freedom in his hands, never mind getting involved with the Gem-A. Doesn’t he know that Honda wants to take him away? Does he even care?

Abigail appears in the room, somewhat alarmed. “What’s wrong, Artie?”

“That was Kiku Honda. He’s already in the process of executing a plan to remove Alfred from London, from Europe in general. He’ll follow through with it if I can’t convince Alfred to give up the Thief of Spades.”

“Well, weren’t you saying that you think he might do that?”

“Honda doesn’t seem to think there’s much chance.”

“What do you think?”

Arthur looks down at his phone. He still has no way of contacting Alfred, but he can contact Gil and Gil can contact Matthew. And with the clock ticking and not even a vague deadline given, maybe Arthur can finally say what he needs to say to Alfred. “I think Honda will need a good deal of luck because I’m the only one who has ever caught the Thief of Spades.”

#ukus #usuk fanfic #thief of spades au #likes are love #reblogs are life ^-^

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rebelrebelwrites · 1 year

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Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: i cannot heave my heart into my mouth by @fallofrainblog

What you need to know going in:

It’s a Sauron POV fic! Also something I read early on in my fandom days, back when I was still lurking and delaying the inevitable development of a true hyper-fixation. 😆 This one-shot follows Sauron throughout RoP S1 as he encounters Galadriel, steadily following more in love with her despite his stubborn desire not to do so — at first. Spoiler alert: he falls fast. What I love about this fic is how intentional it feels; it breathes, if that makes sense, as Sauron, by his own estimation, is drawn to Galadriel and her light, "betrayed" by his human body and heart for wanting her as badly as he does; wanting to bask in her light and strength of will. And, don’t get me wrong — she wants him back, at least while she still knows him as Halbrand — but the intensity of his feelings, however mercurial, bursts onto the page and draws you in, too. The moments of tenderness, the blaze of lust and burgeoning love, then the angst, betrayal and desperate longing… it really runs the gamut of great. This fic may traverse familiar territory in the way of post-S1 plot, but every moment feels… dare I say? Precious.

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: The Venus of Valinor by @thecoziestbean

What you need to know going in:

When I saw this fic pop up (I think on Tumblr? I can’t recall) and read the summary, it was an immediate read + subscribe. This modern AU features Galadriel as art world royalty trying to protect a family secret — that many of the works in her family’s storied collection are straight-up fakes. (A shitty Feanor strikes again, friends.) How? By enlisting the help of the wily, way-too-sexy art thief Halbrand. A riff on the 60’s film How to Steal a Million (which I admittedly have not seen), this fic is in early days but already endlessly entertaining — and, not to mention, sexy. Get ready for deliciously flirty banter, a determined but slightly desperate Galadriel, and as always, a definitely morally dubious Halbrand. Where we go from here, I don’t know, but I’m very intrigued to find out.

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: It Will Come Back by @nocaptainonthisship

What you need to know going in:

Oh man, this fic. It broke me a little, but in the best way. It’s a modern AU that can also be described as a coffee shop AU, but that doesn’t encompass all this fic is and does. The premise is simple: Galadriel falls for her coworker/neighbor, Halbrand, and they begin a casual, toxic relationship that feels so achingly well-realized the angst and hurt will have a knot forming in your chest. The relationship bends and breaks in so many ways over the course of years, and delves into some dark places (so as always, mind the tags) but in an effort to not spoil anything, I’ll just say that it comes with an explosive, blisteringly satisfying ending that will haunt me. Immediate bookmark? Hell. Yes.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): i'm a sinking ship that's burning, so let go of my hand by @orcas86

What you need to know going in:

Can you tell I’ve been delving into more and more AUs lately (and loving it)? 🤣 Another gnawingly good entry from @orcas86, this modern AU sees Galadriel as a principal ballerina, subject to the meticulous and often mean eye (I’m so sorry, had to do it) of Halbrand, her company’s creative director. The two bite back and forth at each other in this twisted, intoxicating way, all while Galadriel is spiraling all on her own to feel something in the stifling world she’s stuck in (of her own making). This fic delivers on all the drama, jealousy, possessiveness and angst you could ask for — plus, scorching smut as always. 🔥

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: cause i'm mistaking honey for the bees by @alicuntisms

What you need to know going in:

Aaaand another modern AU that’s got me in a dirty, dark chokehold (which is why it’s impossible to not inhale upon reading, but again, mind those tags). This fic has Galadriel and Halbrand in college; her younger and admittedly more vulnerable, and him, a graduate student who becomes enraptured and unhealthily obsessed with her at a frat party and in the resulting aftermath — to the point that she gets caught in the maelstrom of his feelings for her: possessive, heady, and definitely boasting a mean, unpredictable edge. The toying with each other; the fickle, ceaseless push and pull between the two of them is seriously edge-of-your-seat, 👀👀👀 reading. And, again, the smut? Sinfully hot. 👌👌👌

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

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wosobot · 1 year

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woso tumblrs most dangerous thief strikes again this is a warning to ALL hide your memes.

@vivstenius

#BANG OUT OF ORDER #i see who you are.

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saunteringvaguelydownwards · 9 months

Note

what are the fics you’d consider required reading (as you said in the tags of another post) ? any fandom i’d say for required reading or if there’s too much, for warrior nun ?

*heavy sigh* I had this post 90% complete when the power went out at my house and I had to rewrite the whole thing.

I'm gonna give you a scattershot approach, one fic for a few different fandoms, different types of fic, and hopefully something resonates.

🦗 (Recommend any fic, wild card!)

Avengers/MCU - The Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series by owlet (tumblr?)

Set immediately at the end of CA:TWS, Bucky's scrambled brain does a hard reset and decides his new mission is to protect Steve, covertly. Meanwhile, he kinda gets adopted by the senior citizens that live in the shitty apartment building he's crashing in while he learns how to be person again. It's snarky AF, touching, funny, great action, fluffy domestic Avengers Tower stuff. There's some Stucky eventually, but it's not the primary focus and doesn't really show up until like the 5th story in the series. There are 7 stories, and a Q&A with the author.

OUaT - The Secret's in the Telling by @the-pyrophoric-one

Emma is being pranked by a thief while living in the mansion with Regina and Henry, and there's also magic fuckery afoot. This story is just neat. It's tightly-plotted and funny. I can't actually say too much because the whole point is that there's a mystery to solve and I'd hate to spoil it. Even when I had kinda figured out what was going on, I still had no idea how it would end. It's told from two different POVs, so it's fun to reread the first part once you know the ending. Apparently there's also a sequel, but I don't believe I've read it yet.

R&I - Calamity Jane Meets Dr. Isles, Medicine Woman by @jobethdalloway

Rizzles 1800s western AU. Maura is a fancy lady from Boston who moves west to live with her fiancé Garrett Fairfield, Jane wears pants, drinks whiskey, and roams the countryside as Jake Wyatt, an outlaw who's hunting for Charles Hoyt, the man who killed her parents. The immersion in this AU is stunning, the characters feel true to the originals while allowing for how things would change given the time and circumstances, and the buildup from their unconventional meeting to friends to more is a lovely and authentic slow burn. There's also a completed sequel, but it's still on my to-read list.

The 100 - Lightning Only Strikes Once by fiona_249 (tumblr?)

Lexa gets shot and dies, Clarke climbs to the roof of the building, gets hit by weird lightning, then suddenly she's back on The Ark, about to be sent down to Earth with 99 other teen prisoners, and no one remembers the events of the past year besides her. The ultimate fix-it fic. How do you fix your mistakes while still trying to keep the good things that happened? Balancing future knowledge with ripple effects, how much can you change before you don't know what's going to happen anymore? What do you do with a second chance? I think I've read this fic at least half a dozen times.

Warrior Nun - What If I Told You I'm a Mastermind? by @sapphicstacks

Avatrice actress AU. Ava is an unknown actress working as a bartender, Bea is a famous but reclusive actress making a comeback after several years away from the spotlight, and they get cast together in a sapphic love story. You ever read a story and go "JFC, will you two just talk to each other?" Yeah, the reason is because all of the healthy communication got requisitioned for this fic. It's incredibly wholesome and overwhelmingly romantic and also ridiculously hot. Like, prep a cold shower or make sure you're somewhere private when you read it. There's a regularly-updated WiP sequel.

#fanfic #recommendations #avengers #stucky #ouat #swan queen #rizzoli and isles #rizzles #the 100 #clexa #warrior nun #avatrice

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eddieeatsass · 2 years

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You in My Sweater - A Reddie Fic

Five times Eddie wore Richie's clothes, and the slow progression of their love.

Read on AO3 (seriously, the formatting always gets messed up on tumblr, pls read it on AO3 if you can it’s way better I promise)

~~~~~~~~~~~

I. Eddie was a thief. A dirty little thief whose closet was filled almost halfway with clothes that were not his own. Richie should have been pissed, what with his clothes constantly disappearing, only to pop back up a month later on Eddie’s shoulders. But how could Richie be upset when Eddie seemed to have such a propensity for only stealing his clothes. It was never Bill’s flannels, even though his were softer than Richie’s. It was never Stan’s shirts, even though his would fit Eddie’s style better than Richie’s ever did. It was only ever Richie’s.

If he were being honest with himself, Richie’s adoration for Eddie might have something to do with how little he cared. He wasn’t sure if he’d be quite so unbothered if it were Mike or Ben stealing half his wardrobe. But Eddie... well there was something soothing about seeing Eddie wear his clothes. Richie could allow himself to imagine for just a moment that it was something intimate, something purposeful on Eddie's part.

The first time it happened was when they were eleven, and Eddie had broken his arm. Richie hadn’t known what to do, floundering around his best friend as he yelled in pain. He’d settled on taking off his button down and wrapping it around Eddie’s arm, as if it could stop the internal bleeding the way it would an external wound. It hadn’t worked, obviously, but Eddie had still disappeared into the ambulance with Hawaiian print wrapped around his broken bone as if it were protecting him from the pain. Richie had all but forgotten about his shirt after that, too focused on Eddie’s recovery to give a shit about where it had ended up in the midst of everything, until a few months later when Eddie had shown up to school in it.

Richie had nearly dropped to his knees when he’d seen it; tiny little Eddie Kaspbrak, rocking his signature track shorts and polo shirts, now accompanied by an ill-fitting button down that was definitely not his own.

Richie’s pre-teen heart had gone completely erratic as unfamiliar feelings clawed their way up his spine, but all he’d been able to do was stare as Eddie came bounding up to him, waving with his castless arm and a huge smile on his face.

He’d been completely unaware that he’d turned Richie’s entire world upside down.

II. Things continued to progress after that. A couple more of Richie’s shirts went missing here and there, but what Eddie really seemed to love were his sweaters. Over the next few years, Eddie would come to steal so many of Richie's sweaters that he eventually stopped buying them with himself in mind. When Richie went shopping, he now picked out sweaters he knew Eddie would like, because it was no longer a question of would Eddie end up with them, but rather when.

It's not like Richie never saw his sweaters again. About half of Eddie's wardrobe was actually Richie’s, so he'd see them in rotation every now and then. But even with a collection as big as Eddie’s had grown, it only ever took a couple months for him to strike again.

It was a random night in October, on their second year of high school, when Richie finally questioned Eddie about his habits.

The Losers were all gathered in Bill's living room watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, cozied up in various configurations around the room. Richie and Eddie had taken up the couch, curled into one another as they shared a bowl of popcorn.

It wasn’t long into the movie before Eddie began pawing at Richie's hoodie.

Richie shot him a look of intrigue, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Gimme your hoodie, I'm cold." Eddie whispered.

"Get your own hoodie." Richie responded, not actually bothered by the request, but intent on fighting it just a little bit.

Eddie pouted. "Come on Rich! I’m gonna turn into a popsicle." He whispered again, tugging on the hood and subsequently choking Richie.

"Aye! Okay okay, calm down you little gremlin!" Richie hushed back, putting enough space between them that he could pull his sweater over his head and hand it to an annoyingly smug looking Eddie.

"Why do you always steal my clothes anyway, huh? Why not Ben's or Mike's?" Richie asked, watching as Eddie shimmied into the oversized sweater. "You creating a shrine to me or something, Kaspbrak? Tryna summon a sex demon that looks exactly like me?” Richie leaned in close, waggling his eyebrows and smirking.

But instead of the laughter he was expecting, Eddie stiffened up, and Richie immediately wanted to swallow back his words. He watched as a scowl settled into Eddie's features before Richie could even figure out what he'd done wrong.

"They're just comfy, asshole. If it's that big of a deal I'll give them back." Eddie mumbled, slouching further down into the couch and crossing his arms.

Richie's brain struggled with the sudden tone shift, leaving him gaping at Eddie like a fish out of water.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and make another series of questionable jokes born out of desperation for Eddie’s attention, Stan saved the day.

By throwing a pillow at Richie’s face.

“Ow!” Richie protested loudly, causing a chorus of shushes.

"Go flirt somewhere else. I'm trying to watch Freddy Krueger drown Nancy." Stan whisper-shouted from his spot on the floor.

Richie’s face reddened about three shades, and he was suddenly glad for the darkness in the room. In an effort to save face, he turned back to Eddie, now preparing himself to make a joke at Stan’s expense, but instead he was met with tired eyes.

“Just watch the movie, Richie.” Eddie seemed to beg, and for once Richie’s self-preservation encouraged him to drop it.

That was when Richie learned his lesson: never question Eddie’s motives.

III.

Thankfully, Richie’s blunder didn’t shake Eddie up for long. Within a week he’d seemed to have forgotten their conversation entirely, reverting to his old habits with one of Richie’s vintage band t-shirts as collateral. Richie was more than happy to see it go if it meant he could release the tension he’d been carrying since putting his foot in his mouth at Bill’s last week.

Months went by and eventually the conversation slipped Richie’s mind as well, falling behind the metaphorical couch in his brain and allowing Richie to once again tease Eddie about his penchant for Richie-specific clothing.

"You're not gonna fit-"

"Shut up! I'm gonna fit!"

"You have thighs chiseled from marble and an ass that would make the queen of England faint. You're not gonna-"

“I’M GONNA FIT.”

“Eds, just switch with Bill! His pants are looser and his scrawny chicken legs can probably fit into my jeans easier-”

"Ha! Fuck you!"

Eddie stood before Richie with a victorious smile on his face, panting from the exertion of trying to wriggle into skinny jeans two sizes too small.

Two sizes too small, which resulted in a less than family friendly view before him.

"Eds..." Richie swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the prominent bulge that Eddie was now sporting. It was fucking sinful, honestly, and Richie had to force himself to look away before he popped a boner and made this whole situation very uncomfortable.

"What, do they look bad?" Eddie asked, Richie's reaction clearly having planted a seed of doubt in Eddie's mind. He was quick to snuff it out, not wanting Eddie to get the wrong idea.

"No! No, they look great, I've just... Never seen you in skinny jeans." Richie offered, hoping it was a decent enough explanation.

Eddie nodded, turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror and giving Richie a proper view of the way his jeans stretched across Eddie's backside. It was enough to make a guy dizzy.

"Right, well the rest of the guys are probably waiting on us, so." Richie stood up from Ben's bed, his bottom half only clad in boxers after giving Eddie his pants.

"Thanks Richie." Eddie said quietly, still staring at himself in the mirror. "I'm just not comfortable with my body the way you are. I couldn't have sat in my underwear all afternoon while my pants got washed."

"Hey, don't sweat it Eddie spaghetti. We're doing everyone a favor by putting my goodies on display." Richie did a little wiggle that was his awkward attempt at showing off said 'goodies', and was pleased when it earned him a laugh. But still, Eddie didn't move from the mirror.

"That's crazy, by the way." Richie ventured on, his trash mouth guided by Eddie's clear vulnerability.

Eddie made eye contact with him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow in question.

"The whole thing with your body and... Not feeling..." Richie waved his hand in the air, trying to string together thoughts that were being shaken around by his racing heartbeat. After a moment he sighed, resigning himself to a moment of ineloquence.

"You're fucking hot, Eds. It's a damn shame you don't see it."

Eddie's face seemed to flush a bright red, but then again, that could have just been the lighting in Ben's room playing tricks on Richie's eyes.

“I’m not-” Eddie began to protest, but Richie wasn’t having it. If there was one good thing that could come of today’s spilt milkshake, it was a rise in Eddie’s confidence. Even if just momentarily.

“You are.” Richie insisted, coming up behind Eddie and gripping his arms. He pivoted the smaller boy, angling him to the side so he could see himself the way Richie saw him.

“This?” Richie pointed to Eddie’s ass. “Insane. Should be illegal, honestly. You could probably take someone out with this.”

“Richie!” Eddie quickly re-righted himself, swatting at Richie for bringing up something he’d know would embarrass him.

“What! I’m just telling the truth, your honor.” Richie held up one hand, placing the other on his chest as if he were in a court room. “I, Richie Tozier, do solemnly swear that I am telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“Whatever.” Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing past Richie. “Let’s go, I want to enjoy at least some of my afternoon.”

But even through his feigned annoyance, Richie noticed the way Eddie’s mouth quirked up at the sides, the way he stood taller than he had a few moments ago, and he counted that as enough of a victory for today.

He followed Eddie back downstairs, a newfound giddiness in his step and a gratitude, once again, that Eddie always insisted on borrowing his clothes.

IV.

Richie was used to climbing the tree outside Eddie's window, had grown to be quite skilled at it in fact. What used to take his gawky, uncoordinated limbs a full five minutes to climb now only took him thirty seconds, as he scaled the branches with years of expertise.

Eddie knew Richie always visited on Friday nights. It had been their ritual for at least a year now; Richie would crawl through Eddie's window and they would spend the night discussing the last week's escapades, their plans for the weekend, their hopes and dreams.

So, Richie was confused when he rapped on Eddie's window, peeking through it and catching the tail end of what seemed like the kind of moment he was not supposed to intrude on.

"Shit!" Eddie's voice was muffled through the glass pane, but Richie could still hear the accompanying movement as he watched Eddie throw his blankets over himself in a haste, throwing something under his bed and letting his arms disappear beneath the covers to help shimmy something up.

Richie's brain knew this dance very well.

"What the fuck, Richie!?" Eddie whispered angrily as he opened his window.

"Did you forget I was coming, Eds?" Richie teased, defaulting to humor to cover up how affected he was by what he'd just witnessed. Or rather, almost witnessed.

"It's Thursday!" Eddie protested, pointing to his calendar in frustration.

Despite his glasses, Richie still had to squint to see the calendar pinned to the wall across the bedroom. But sure enough...

"Well I'll be. I never was good at math."

"HOW IS THAT MATH." Eddie shout whispered, still warry to wake up Sonia even though she could probably sleep through a nuclear apocalypse.

"Well, Eds, care to explain what I just walked in on on this fine Thursday night?"

Eddie glared at him, clearly not impressed. "What, do I have to explain the birds and the bees to you, Rich?"

"Oh no, I am well acquainted with both birds and bees, I just didn't know my little Eddie K. was as well."

Richie felt like his stomach was trying to claw its way out his esophagus. He was hanging on Eddie's every word, humor on his tongue ready to deflect at any moment if things got too close to the truth.

"Yeah, well some of us don't go around announcing every new pubic hair we get." Eddie bit back.

"It's up to 137 now, thanks for asking." Richie chimed back.

Eddie rolled his eyes, moving to push his window back down and end the conversation.

"Hey wait! You're not gonna let me in?" Richie protested, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the windowsill.

"It's Thursday." Eddie repeated, as if that answered his question.

"Right. Thursday is scheduled wank day, got it. Well then, don't let me interrupt you any more than I already have. I'll just be off, heading home to wank by my lonesome. Forever wishing I had a buddy who-" Richie's words fell short as he finally noticed what Eddie was wearing. He almost lost his balance as he fully registered the situation.

"Are those my boxers?" Richie asked incredulously, staring openly at Eddie's crotch where a pair of Richie's own boxers hung off Eddie’s hips.

"NO OKAY GOODNIGHT RICHIE."

Within a second the window was snapped shut and the curtains pulled closed, and Richie was left to sit in disbelief at what he'd just seen.

When had Eddie gotten a pair of his boxers?

Class rings were tacky, there was no denying it. They were always made out of cheap metal that turned your skin green, far too bulky to look good, and engraved with some cheesy school moto that didn't reflect the average high school experience. Richie was convinced that the only people who really liked class rings were those who were already in their prime, destined to go downhill after graduation with this flimsy piece of jewelry as their only memory of their golden years.

So then why did he buy one? Well... Fuck you, that's why.

He had his reasons, however senseless they might be. Reasons that he honestly hadn't known if he'd carry through until about 2 hours ago when he'd been getting ready to leave his house, bag in hand with everything he'd need for the night, and in a moment of bravery he'd snatched the ring off his dresser and shoved it into his knapsack alongside everything else.

But now that he was here, fiddling with it in his pocket, he was questioning once again why he bought a stupid class ring.

"Richie can you- ugh! This fucking tie is broken!" Eddie was standing in front of his mirror, face a little redder than usual and his hands flailing around as he spoke. He was getting visibly more frustrated by the minute as his tie refused to cooperate.

"Eddie, it can sense your fear. Just relax."

"If you don't come over here and help me in the next five seconds I'm going to choke you with this tie, and then we'll see who really senses fear."

"Oof, don't threaten me with a good time!" Regardless of the way Richie's heart was currently trying to hammer its way out of his chest, he still jumped off the bed and made his way over.

Eddie turned to face him, tilting his neck up in invitation for Richie to take over.

"Sooooo," Richie ventured forward with false confidence, his hands moving mindlessly as he began tying Eddie's tie. It was an insignificant skill he'd mastered when he'd been younger, having convinced himself that the years to come would include many dates, and of course the proper date attire in a 12 year old's mind was a suit and tie.

But however misguided he'd been, as he stood here with Eddie, close enough to see the pink that had risen to his cheeks since Richie had gotten closer, he was grateful for his small talent.

"Got anyone on your radar tonight?" Richie finally asked, noticing the way Eddie's eyes quickly darted to his own.

"No. What? Why would you even- If I'd been interested in someone else I would have asked them to prom instead of going with you."

'Interested in someone else'. Richie's brain clung to those words, spinning them around until they sounded like they could maybe mean... Eddie was interested in...

Richie's throat got a bit tighter, his heart continuing to jackhammer inside his ribcage.

"Yeah, of course. I just didn't know if that had changed since... Yeah, stupid question."

"Nothing's changed." Eddie reaffirmed, his eyes softening a bit. And suddenly Richie was hyper aware of the fact that he was still holding Eddie's tie, standing close enough that their shoes were touching, close enough that he could count every single freckle on Eddie's nose.

"Uh, right!" Richie dropped Eddie's tie, taking a wide step backwards and putting space between them before he could do something stupid. He had a plan.

"Well same here pardner, ain't no sage hens in my sights." Richie tipped an invisible hat.

"Ugh, not the cowboy. I hate the cowboy." Eddie groaned. He turned back to face himself in the mirror, fixing his tie and pointedly ignoring Richie’s attempt at a follow up joke.

“Okay, how do I look?” Eddie asked Richie after a moment, seemingly content enough with his reflection.

Richie’s palms immediately started to sweat as the ring began burning a hole in his pocket. This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

And as usual, he bombed it.

“You look shitty! Here let me help!”

“Fucking excuse me?” Eddie gaped.

“Sorry! Not- fuck, you don’t look shitty, but you- your outfit is missing something-” Richie began rifling around in his pocket, grabbing for the ring in desperation.

“Richie, this better be going somewhere.”

“HERE!” Richie hurled the ring at Eddie’s chest and then froze, watching in abject horror as it clattered to the floor.

They both stared at it for a beat longer than was comfortable, the silence around them shrinking as unasked and unanswered questions floated around them. Richie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then bent down to pick up the ring.

“Richie, can you please make sense for one fucking second.” Eddie seemed exasperated, and Richie didn’t blame him. He took another deep breath, willed himself to stop being so dramatic, and tried again.

“I think you should wear my class ring.” Richie blurted. Not exactly as smooth as he’d hoped, but worlds better than his first attempt.

“O-oh.” Eddie clamped up, his eyes going wide under Richie’s gaze. Richie willed himself not to panic.

“Only if you want to! I just… it would look good with your outfit… is all.”

Eddie paused, seeming to search Richie’s face for something.

“Is that the only reason you want me to wear it?” Eddie asked quietly. Richie’s heart gave a warning thump.

“…No.” He answered honestly, swallowing down his fear.

“You know what it would mean if I wore this, right?” Eddie’s voice was getting smaller, softer, as if he was scared to startle Richie with his words.

Richie simply nodded, hoping his face conveyed all the emotions he was too nervous to voice just yet.

A second passed, and then two, and soon enough Richie was sure he’d done irreparable damage to their relationship. He was preparing to do massive damage control when Eddie spoke up.

“Well then, come on.” Eddie shot his hand out, palm facing up and waiting expectantly.

Richie just stared at it, his brain having a hard time catching up.

“Richie, I need the ring if I’m gonna wear it.” Eddie teased, though his voice sounded as shaky as Richie felt.

“Right… Right! Yeah!” Richie handed it over, watching incredulously as Eddie slipped it on to his finger with ease.

“I’m sorry I don’t have one for you-” Eddie began to apologize, but Richie’s laughter bubbled up before he could finish. Not surprisingly, Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Richie composed himself, but he had a newfound smile on his face that he was sure he wasn’t going to get rid of for a while. “You’re the one who wears my clothes, not the other way around.”

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let that go?” Eddie whined.

Richie thought for a moment, then walked over to Eddie’s closet and slid the door open, revealing dozens of Richie’s clothes all lined up in their own section. He looked back at Eddie with a cocky grin.

Eddie crossed his arms stubbornly. “Shut up. I’m allowed to wear my boyfriend’s clothes.”

“Yeah.” Richie’s grin split even further. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#reddie #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #my posts #reddieweek #reddie week 2022 #reddie week #reddieweek2022 #my writing

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elvain · 1 year

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Did you think I was joking when I said in the server to answer them in Fibonacci sequence (1 twice, then 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and 21)

the character everyone gets wrong

okay im gonna do Two characters to answer this Twice: peter parker and hank pym

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

i don't have one, i think tony does both but if i had to think of a character who wouldn't do one or the other i would say that wolverine wouldn't bottom 🧐 at least not where i am at in his canon where he seems like too much of a control freak and way too cagey about interpersonal situations. he is my current fav x-men so im gonna say this is a good enough answer and ALSO he strikes me as one of those idiots who thinks topping or bottoming means something about your masculinity/gender orientation (again, this is based on where im at in canon which is UXM 110).

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

literally anyone who tries to smol bean peter parker can choke he's a literal thief and murderer and i love him for it

5. worst discord server and why

definitely the multiverse goddamn 😒

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

frank castle is not a hero idc what anyone says

13. worst blorboficiation

already answered here!

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

lmao i might get shot for this but i dont vibe w the coffee bean kids as much as everyone else and i dont think its AS integral to peters characterization as some make it out to be... it's fun to write which is why i often include it but the dynamics didn't quite hit for me. maybe they will in later renditions but as of rn i do think the coffee bean gang stuff is a little overhype

choose violence asks

#these were very dangerous #asks #taxi tag

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daikaiju-chaos · 8 months

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I need to remember to post art here more often, forgor to.

Just a flat-colour doodle of a fictitious dinosaur that only a select few may recognize... Then again, this is Tumblr, there's bound to be some people who remember that franchise.

Arkosaurus / Archosaurus! The Mutant Demon Dinosaur from Battle of Giants: Dinosaur Strike. The tyrannosaurid with an underbite that's cooler than 'Zilla's.

Had a moment to think and I always have this question: do the names of the Mutant Dinosaurs have any translation, I know Gorgoraptor means "fierce thief", but I could never figure out the other member's name. Though, I quickly figured out that the Arkos- / Archos- in Archosaurus is in reference to not to an Ark, but as in greek Arkos, (thank you Arch Belial), which translates to "chief"... so its "Chief lizard". All that's left is to figure out the last three members' names: Naxo-, Hiliero-, and Casso-.

#dinosaur art #fictional dinosaur #arkosaurus #archosaurus #battle of giants dinosaurs #doodle #monster art

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radiantlyrey · 7 months

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Thinkin' 'Bout NaNoWriMo

It's getting to be that time of year again--that time when writers everywhere sit down and ask themselves important questions. Questions like, "Am I doing NaNoWriMo this year?" and "If I am doing NaNo, what am I even gonna write?"

I am planning to do an abridged NaNo this year--probably not more than 20k words for the whole month. (Part of me always wants to shoot for 50k, but the rest of me knows me better than that, and knows that down that path lies horrific burnout, so.) I am having trouble choosing which story I want to work on.

Which brings me to you, Tumblr.

Here are my current story ideas for NaNoWriMo. There are five of them, and I've listed a little summary for almost all of them, along with some personal pros and cons.

Idea #1: Fantasy Titanic This idea came to me in a dream two years ago (no, really). The basic gist is thus: What if Titanic (1997), but instead of a love story, it's a heist story, and also there are elves and magic and shit? The summary:

The grandest cruise ship of the century is setting off on its maiden voyage. Passengers include young Neela, who is crossing the ocean to meet her fiance before their wedding, and Alice, a sorceress and unwilling conwoman/thief whose mother has chosen Neela as their next mark. The con is nearly done when disaster strikes--the ship hits an iceberg and begins to sink. In the chaos that ensues, Alice must make hard choices, not least of which is who she wants to be if she survives.

Pros and Cons: +I already have the first half of the story plotted out. +I already have extensive profiles of my two main characters written.

-I have to do a lot more research on the actual ship and the disaster. -I feel like some of the plot I do have needs to be reworked.

Idea #2: Beauty and the Beast Retelling This story is a rewrite of a story I wrote about 15 years ago in my online writing group. I've been wanting to retackle it for a while now, and I spent some time this past spring making plans for it. I don't have a formal summary for it yet, but.

The story follows the basic shape of the original fairy tale, but with some modernization and fantasy twists. The story is set in the US, and it's set in a world where magic has been gone from the western world for well over a century. Other than that, things are more or less the same: Penniless father of three daughters gets lost on the way home from a trip, ends up at a mysterious and obviously magical mansion. He accidentally offends his host, a monstrous Beast, who demands the father give up one of his daughters to the Beast, or else return himself. The eldest daughter (rather than the youngest) agrees to go in her father's place.

Pros and Cons: +I have almost three-fourths of the story plotted out. +I am eager to revisit this idea and improve on my first attempt.

-I may need to do some more worldbuilding before drafting can begin. -I’m not sure if I have a good grip on my main character yet.

Idea #3: TRON/Pacific Rim Crossover I have had this idea for about five years now, and it's a basic "what if I mashed these two universes together?" style crossover. My concept is a series of fics that follow TRON character Quorra's point of view of the Kaiju War, and her journey towards eventually becoming a Jaeger pilot with Sam Flynn (another TRON character). I've got about five or six of the stories already plotted out, though I don't have much more of a summary.

Pros and Cons: +I know how the next few stories are meant to go. +I am feeling enthusiastic about the story as a whole, and am eager to continue work on it.

-I am kind of blocked on the second story, and have been for a while. -I’m still worried no one’s going to read this thin, so what's the point.

Idea #4: TRON '82 High Fantasy AU Not much to say about this one except that it's very new, but here's a summary:

Chesst styles himself the God-Emperor of the Seven Realms, and has outlawed worship of the old gods. Those who still cling to the ancient ways are consigned to the empire’s gladiatorial arenas, forced to fight to the death in dangerous games. Tron, a former knight-paladin of the realm of Enqor, has spent nearly a year in the arenas, fighting and surviving and keeping his faith alive. The gods have not forsaken him yet, and he knows they will not let Chesst’s blasphemy stand. When an amnesiac prisoner named Flynn arrives at Tron’s arena, Tron and his friend Ram are tasked with preparing him for the games. As Flynn recovers and trains, it becomes clear that he is much stronger than even Tron expected. He has access to a powerful magic that he cannot fully control, even with Tron mentoring him. As the start of the games approaches, Tron can only hope that Flynn’s true power can be concealed long enough for him to control it, and perhaps long enough for the three of them to escape.

Pros and Cons: +It’s a new idea, which means it could spark a lot of creativity. +I think it could be a fun idea to explore at length.

-I’d have to do a ton of worldbuilding to get ready to write it. -I also need to plot the whole thing (or at least part of it), with the original film as a guide.

Idea #5: The Face in the Mirror This is also a new idea and yet another TRON story. Concept came about a post on here about what might happen if one program's disc was put on another program's body. I've billed this one as a horror story; here's the summary:

Metz is having a little trouble with his memory. He remembers… horrible things, things that don’t make sense. He remembers derezzing, or at least, he thinks he does. His best friend and lover, Starr, says that it’s just a packet of bad code that will purge itself in time. She reassures him that he’s fine, and he wants to believe her, but… Sometimes, it’s like someone or something else is inside his body. And every time he sees his reflection, he’s startled by the face staring back at him…

Pros and Cons: +I know the basic shape of the story already. +The plot will probably fit my lower NaNoWriMo goal of 10-20k.

-I have no idea how to write a horror story. -I’m not sure I have enough enthusiasm for this idea right now.

I do not promise to abide by the results of this poll, but I'm interested to see what y'all think of my conundrum.

#writing #writeblr #nanowrimo #polls #my polls #long post #throwing this into the void and screaming #yo ho yo ho a writer's life for me

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lemon-patches · 3 years

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Handon Pre-Legacies Headcanons

(So I was rewatching some the originals clips and these just popped into my head)

-It's already been established that Landon worked at the Mystic Grill and that's probably where he met Hope for the first time

-Now don't get mad at me but I'm gonna be honest, I don't think Landon stood out to Hope all that much...at first

-Keep in mind that at the time she did have a crush on Roman and we've all seen how committed she can be when it comes to romance

-But on the other hand Landon's trying to get his heart to start functioning properly again because who is that???

-And why does she have such a weird milkshake order???

-So anyways time goes on and whenever Hope's not locked in her room on campus she's at the Mystic Grill

-Thanks to her reclusive nature she doesn't really interact with anyone sans her server and kinda just sits there quietly enjoying her food and the scenery

-Meanwhile Landon's just in the background drooling and pining silently

-And don't get him wrong, he wants to talk to her but he always chickens out halfway through and just writes down his feelings and thoughts onto a napkin or something

-lowkey the reason why he's always writing her letters. because he got used to expressing himself best that way

-So even more time passes and Hope vaguely notices that Landon's the only waiter that's memorized her orders for the most part

-Hope being Hope, she calls him out on it. Politely of course but Landon still panics and nearly has a heart attack while he stutters and sputters out a defense that he's not a creeper

-okay so maybe he's kinda cute or whatever

-Hope thinks it's sweet and tells him so. Leaves him pretty good tips too (which sends Landon into a spiral because she's nice and she tips well?!?)

-True interaction doesn't really take off until she notices Landon being harassed by some Mystic High goonies and sees him forcing himself to bite his tongue

-But just because he has to hold back doesn't mean she has to and she's ready to rip these little shits a new one until they lock eyes and Landon shakes his head at her

-cue the start of hope wanting to hit shit and landon presenting another option...not to mention protective!hope

-Hope respects his wishes but still feels bad that he has to deal with it. Since she can't be reactive maybe she can be proactive

-She's seen him bobbing his head or singing under his breath to the music that plays on the speakers. So one day, during a moment of particularly vicious heckling she asks him who his favorite musicians are as a means of distraction

-And ladies and gentlemen they are off. Shy as he may be, if you want Landon to open up to you almost immediately ASK HIM ABOUT MUSIC OR SCI-FI SHIT

-They go back and forth talking about which artists they like and why and constantly go off on tangents. Almost like they can talk to this person about anything and they'd get it (how strange...)

-It's on one of those tangents that Landon finds out that Hope is from New Orleans which just sets off another 20 minute conversation

-They talk for so long that not only did the bullies get bored and leave but Landon gets scolded by his manager for abandoning the other customers

-worth it

-Before they know it, an odd little friendship has formed in a place that seemed to exist suspended in time, away from both of their worlds

-Hope spends more and more time at the Mystic Grill since she didn't really have friends at school (leave me alone, it's canon)

-At some point Landon just starts spending all his breaks with her and when he's working Hope is still content to watch Landon scurry around while she doodles or does her homework

-Discounted milkshakes anyone?

-They don't really talk about deep shit but their presence becomes a comfort to one another

-And Hope has to regularly remind Landon to get back to his job before he gets yelled at again

-They talk about and do so much random shit

-Ranking the menu items? Check

-Scoring all the contestants on karaoke night? Check (those two are utterly ruthless btw)

-Playing darts or pool over free leftover fries? Check

-Silently judging rude customers? CHECK

-And yes, Landon's crush just grows steadily day by day because he can tell even without knowledge of the supernatural that Hope Mikaelson is quite special

-And Hope is just so damn happy to have a genuine friend who doesn't judge her or want her for family's past or her powers

-Hope only comes over like 2 or 3 times a week but it's almost like a refuge for both of them to look forward to during a tough week

-That is until Hope gives Henry her blood, she gets suspended from school, and life proceeds to go to utter hell

-Hope's life is chaos and Landon's wondering where his lunchtime buddy went

-First it's just a couple days and then Hope's gone for weeks

-(the napkin notes just pile up)

-During that time separated Landon decides that he can't just rely on her being at the Mystic Grill to hangout with her. He's been extremely lucky so far and now's the time to buck up and finally ask her out

-Especially when he gets the news that his latest foster parents don't want to keep him and he's probably gonna be leaving soon

-Eventually he does see her again but doesn't comment on how much more...subdued she looks

-He figures it's none of his business unless she tells him and remembers the promise he made himself

-Sure, he wasn't expecting an audience (hi uncle Elijah) but it's now or never

-He gets shot down. Politely. But shot down nonetheless

-But hearing about his #1 tormentor's car blowing up did cheer him up quite a bit

-He's literally packing all his meager belongings when he decides to go out into the town while he still can

-AND GUESS WHO HE RUNS INTO?!?!?!!!?!?!

-Sure, they only really spent twenty minutes with each other but they danced. They danced.

-Landon's smiling like a goddamn idiot for the rest of the night. And sure enough, the following morning, there's a social worker waiting for him ready to relocate him

-He's sad, not so much because he'll miss the town or school or even his job but because he'll miss her

-But at least he can remember how they danced together

-About a month later, when Hope can think of human interaction and not automatically curl up inside or want to bare her new fangs Hope actually finds herself at the Mystic Grill

-Yes, she wants a milkshake, and maybe a burger but she mostly wants to see Landon

-She's actually there about half the day until she figures he's not coming in today (and to think she thought she had his schedule mostly memorized)

-It takes about a week of not seeing him before she finally asks another worker about Landon only to find out that he doesn't work there anymore because he moved

-”...oh.”

-After that Hope kinda just goes back to school and stays there

-She still goes to the Mystic Grill but only once or twice a month if she's nearby (no one gets her orders quite right anymore. especially the milkshakes)

-Now if Hope's not in class or training, she's in her room by herself, locked away from the world (no one else can leave her if she's always alone)

-Life goes on

-But every now and then she'll wonder how her friend is doing

-Little does she know that he's wondering the same thing

(flipping hell. look at them. disgustingly adorable. i love it)

#shit why does the ending actually make me kinda sad?#i thought this was gonna be a quick little drabble but apparently I had some THOUGHTS #idk its midnight and im rambling #might make a oneshot outta this who knows #and this has nothing to do with anything but the judgy looks handon had in 1x14 give me LIFE you have no idea #legacies #handon #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #headcanon #headcanons #handon headcanons #tumblr thief strikes again

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mozindale · 3 years

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(WARNING: Long post)

So, one of my favorite things about the Destiny Tumblr community is the fact that everyone has their own stories and headcannons for their own Guardians. One of the things I remember from early Tumblr times are the massive lists of character creation questions people would create for OCs for whatever fandom they were a part of. So I decided to put together a list of character questions for those who like building their Guardians persona!

These questions range from Destiny questions, generic character questions, and questions for world building(specifically for your Guardians). If you have more than one Guardian, just copy the list as may times you need!

Feel free to add more questions! But please make sure to add them to this original post, so that way it is easier for everyone to find all the questions in one place.

The questions are in no particular order, so it may seem a little scattered(sorry!). I'm currently writing this at 5:16am. Anyway...Have fun!!

Tumblr app is finally working right for once, so all the questions will be in the read more!

Guardians name:

Age:

Race:

Call signs/alias:

Pronouns:

Class:

Preferred subclass(es):

Ghost's name:

Their Vanguard:

Fireteam name:

Fireteam teammates:

Favorite legendary weapon:

Favorite exotic weapon:

Favorite exotic armor:

Favorite ornament armor set:

Favorite weapon ornament:

What stats do they focus on:

Are they offense, defence, or support:

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range:

Do they lean more "Element of Surprise" or "Upfront and Aggressive":

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible:

Who was their mentor(if they had one. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!):

Who are they mentoring(if they are. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!):

What ship do they have:

What is their Sparrow:

Favorite Ghost shell:

Favorite shader:

Favorite color:

Favorite food:

Favorite piece of Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any):

Favorite Pre-Collapse music(if they've heard any):

Favorite place in The Last City(if it's a place you created, give a little description!):

Favorite NPC(s):

Favorite patrol location:

5 things your Guardian likes(can be anything):

Least favorite food:

Least favorite shader:

Least favorite patrol location:

Least favorite Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any):

Least favorite NPC(s):

Least favorite weapon ornament:

Least favorite ornament armor set:

Least favorite legendary weapon:

Least favorite exotic weapon:

Least favorite exotic armor:

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything):

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like:

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?(Y'all remember Polyvore? The website URSTYLE works very similar if that helps!):

What hobbies and/or skills does you Guardian have:

What would your Guardian's lore book be called:

Where was your Guardian reborn?(If you created the location, give us a little description!):

What were they wearing when they were reborn:

What was their reaction to being reborn:

What was their reaction to their first rez:

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles:

Who was the first other Guardian they met?(Same thing! If you made them, give a little description!):

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found:

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn't rez with past life momentos):

Going back to your Guardian's lore book, what would be some some quotes or passages from their book:

Does your Guardian have a significant other:

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to:

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City:

Is your Guardian a part of a clan:

Does your Guardian's clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share):

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be:

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians (The Last City/The Farm), Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rouge Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords(if your Guardian is an Old Light) tell us about it!:

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards):

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis:

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven:

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni:

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again:

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War:

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them(These are only a handful of characters!)>>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled:

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm:

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard:

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard:

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard:

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard:

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords:

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone:

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider:

The Spider, The Shore's Only Law, founder of "House" Spider:

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows:

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves:

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement:

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light:

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth "Elsie" Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray:

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness:

Empress Caiatl of the Cabal Imperial Empire:

Taniks the Scarred, the Perfected, the Abomination, the Shadow Thief:

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it:

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights:

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simbelene · 3 years

Text

Deborah Hauzz: A History

Part Three: The Tea is hot!

Before we go any further, I have to tell you about this website called CGTrader. It’s a website where you can buy 3D graphics for your own use. This includes graphics for Blender. I’ve never heard of it until I started looking into this whole Hauzz thing

Now, this next one is what really got me. It’s just so blatant!

It’s like they didn’t even try!

As I said before, there is a website called CGTrader and that’s where Hauzz decided to take their business from now on.

They really went from taking from tumblr to taking from CGTrader

They straight up copy/pasted that blender room!

But that’s not the worst of it! Oh no, it gets worse!

This was the part that pissed me off! You can see for yourself why this is a problem

Mind you, you can still find the room on CGT for $5.....

And Hauzz still has theirs for $25.....

I don’t know about you, but I could get a couple of blender rooms and some tacos with $20 #I’mJustSayin

Hauzz must not understand the concept of Royalty Free. Royalty Free means that you can use the content without getting copyright striked. However, it does not mean that you do whatever you want. Like put it behind a $25 paywall.

That violates so many Terms and Conditions!

but given your history, I’m guessing you’re an individual that doesn’t like to read those right?

And a month later, back at it again with the thievery!

At the time of the screenshot, the room was on sale for $3.50. I think it’s safe to assume Hauzz purchased it for that much. (As of September ‘21, the room is available for $7)

Hauzz does a half ass job of giving credit where credit is due. It’s like pulling teeth for them. The internet clocked them again and the best they could do give a little mention on their instagram. There’s no mention of the original creator on Patreon as far that’s as I can tell.

If there was any mention of anybody, We would’ve seen it. Or at least seen the first few words.....

That’s all the receipts I have (for now) that include the serial thief that is Deborah Hauzz.

Debbie, if you’re reading this listen, I’m not here to come for your neck. I’m just here to show the sims community your indiscretions.

You don’t like it, then how about you stop taking credit for content that isn’t yours. Why don’t you start leaving links to the CC you use?

The shit ain’t hard to do!

Part 1 | Part 2

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Polyphonic

Chapter 3 ao3 (alt: tumblr pt 1, pt 2)

Lan Qiren wanted to speak to Wei Wuxian about everything they needed to do, but it would have to wait: the moment they arrived, they were immediately swept up into the political mess that Jin Zixun’s ill-fated ambush had caused.

Jin Guangshan was there in the blink of an eye, despite normally taking his time in seeing anyone, and Lan Qiren didn’t like the way he started making excuses for his nephew’s behavior from the very start. It was to a certain degree understandable, as everyone would first incline towards defending their family, but the haste with which Jin Guangshan sought to sweep it all under the rug was disconcerting, and Lan Qiren thought it was almost suggestive of some level of premeditation. Even more distasteful, however, was how he sought to twist the entire event into being yet another reason Wei Wuxian ought to surrender the Stygian Tiger Seal to the Jin sect: for his own good, of course, in order to avoid being made into a target on account of the disdain of the cultivation world –

“Sect Leader Jin, your words are in poor taste,” Lan Qiren said sharply.

He could hear Jiang Cheng, who ought to be defending Wei Wuxian and was trying his stuttering best to do so, starting to waver; the boy had a pleasant rippling melody by nature, forced into a fierce allegro by his parents’ endless disputes and his later tragedies, and the weak foundation meant that he was too easily buffeted by uncertainty and doubt, as Jin Guangshan undoubtedly knew.

“Let us not speak in abstraction,” he continued. “It was your sect, your nephew, who launched this particular ambush. You ought to be making a formal apology to Wei Wuxian and thinking of reparations to repair the injury to your sect’s reputation, not acting like a thief complaining to the magistrate that his victim failed to hand over his property quickly enough to prevent violence!”

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed in irritation, though he fought to keep the expression off his face as if it could disguise the swell of bitter rotten music that accompanied him wherever he went. “Teacher Lan,” he said, striving for composed and charming but mostly coming off as stiff and wooden. “Come now, I must be misunderstanding you. Surely you are not accusing me of being a thief.”

Historically, as Jin Guangshan well knew, this was when Lan Qiren backed down, mindful of his position as interim sect leader – his sect granted him much of the responsibility but not the full measure of power that typically accorded with the title, and he was conscious, always, that his role was to ensure there was something preserved for his nephews to inherit.

Perhaps Jin Guangshan had forgotten that Lan Qiren was no longer interim sect leader.

“I am describing the facts as I see them,” he said icily, straightening his back and levelling his best teacher’s glare, refined by years of troublesome students. “And they are this: by the agreement of the cultivation world and through his own powers, Wei Wuxian was inviolate and unbothered as long as he remained in the Burial Mounds. Despite this, he willingly chose to emerge in response to an invitation issued by your sect, only to be attacked by your sect – and when he comes to you for justice, rather than grant it to him, you suggest that he hand over his most prized possession to prevent any similar attacks in the future. Unfamiliarity may require me to consult my sect’s texts to be sure, Sect Leader Jin, but only to determine if I should be calling it extortion, blackmail, or outright thievery!”

“Teacher Lan!” one of the smaller sect leaders gasped, even as Jin Guangshan went utterly florid with rage. “You’re not suggesting that Jin-gongzi was involved in the ambush!”

Lan Qiren had been Jin Zixuan’s teacher and knew him well – he had been a shy, introverted boy whose awkwardness came off as aloofness, and would never have done anything like this. Even less so would Lan Qiren suspect such a thing of the man who had been steadied by war and responsibility into an adult with a firm moral foundation.

“No,” he said, and met Jin Guangshan’s eyes directly. “I believe Jin-gongzi’s invitation to have been wholly sincere.”

For a moment, Lan Qiren thought Jin Guangshan was actually going to strike him, his aura lashing out violently like a clash of cymbals, discordant and biting, and he braced himself, but in the last moment etiquette prevailed and Jin Guangshan refrained, although his fists were clenched so tightly that his veins stood out from the backs of his hands.

That was when Wei Wuxian opened his mouth.

Lan Qiren silenced him with the muting spell before he could get out a single syllable.

Jiang Cheng sent him a thankful glance and cleared his throat. “This is a serious matter,” he said. “It requires a full investigation; we won’t be able to solve it all talking now. Both Wei Wuxian and Teacher Lan have traveled a long way – I have no doubt that they need some time to rest and refresh themselves.”

A convenient way to stop anyone from starting a fight, and implicitly excusing Lan Qiren’s rudeness as a mere symptom of exhaustion, resolving the whole thing without losing any more face for anyone. The Jiang sect’s boy was picking up this whole politics business quite well, the poor child.

“I concur,” Jin Guangshan said, recovering a little of his poise. “There are rooms ready for you both.”

Lan Qiren inclined his head as well. “An excellent idea,” he said, and then, because he could now, added, “We can discuss reparations for the ambush later.”

“And what about the curse?” Jin Zixun hissed, clearly done with holding his tongue the way everyone had been so obviously instructing him with their eyes. “Am I to simply suffer while that criminal walks free and unharmed?”

“When I said there would be an investigation, I meant it!” Jiang Cheng snapped. “I doubt your curse is so advanced that it can’t wait another day, and if it is, then you should have brought it up earlier!”

“Why you –“

“Sect Leader Jiang has spoken,” Jin Zixuan interrupted, his voice hard. “Zixun, don’t forget that you must also answer to me as to what you did to my guest in my name without my permission. I think it might benefit you to ‘rest and refresh’ as well. One of the servants can take you to see a doctor.”

Jin Guangshan seemed on the verge of objecting, but Jin Zixuan seemed not to get the hint, already turning his face away.

“In the meantime,” he said, saluting politely, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei-gongzi, would you come with me? A-Li is waiting to see you both.”

Lan Qiren allowed himself to be whisked off in a different direction to settle down, which in all honesty he did need to do. He hadn’t flown such a distance in years, had been in better health when he’d done so, and he had been tired even before all this excitement; some rest would do wonders for him, even if it did make him feel a bit like he’d become a doddering old man or an invalid. Before he could settle down, though, he heard a sound approaching – a little uneven, sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow – and despite the fact that Jin Guangyao had never been anything but polite to him, he felt his back tense up at the reminder of why he was here in the first place.

“Honored teacher,” Jin Guangyao said, smiling and saluting deeply – more than he should, really, given that Lan Qiren was neither a sect leader nor had ever been his teacher. “Welcome to Jinlin Tower. I regret that your arrival was marred by such unpleasantness, and hope that the remainder of your visit is calmer.”

It’s not Jin Guangyao’s fault that Lan Xichen likes him, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Your suspicions, and your family’s terrible luck at love, are your own burdens to bear. They should not be put onto others.

He nodded to Jin Guangyao.

“It would be good to see a peaceable resolution to today’s events,” he said neutrally. “I appreciate that you have come to check on me personally. It is truly going above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Your nephew is my sworn brother, Teacher Lan. How could I fail to honor you as my elder?” Jin Guangyao said smoothly. “Let me know if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable.”

“A bath before dinner would be nice. Has my nephew arrived yet?” Lan Qiren privately hoped that he hadn’t, and was relieved when Jin Guangyao shook his head, confirming it. “Let me know when he does.”

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said, and saluted again. “I’ll inform the servants; a bath will be made ready for you by afternoon.”

The moment Jin Guangyao left the room, Lan Qiren traced the pattern along the hem of his robes that shook off the dust of the road, returning them to being as clean and pristine as always – not a long-term solution to laundry, but very effective in the short-run, and one that he’d only refrained from doing earlier in order to drive home the point regarding how he had also been victimized by Jin Zixun’s ambush.

It was a profound relief to be clean again.

Once he could no longer hear Jin Guangyao’s familiar chords, he relaxed, which unfortunately these days meant coughing. He rubbed his chest when he was done, sighing, and settled down with his guqin to start playing a little, hoping to ease his nerves. Lan Xichen would be on his way already, he knew, and would probably move even faster once he got word regarding Lan Qiren’s presence. He’d made rather a lot of trouble for his nephew…

The door slammed open, and only years of experience with troublesome children, along with the warning echo of a song free and clear, full of shining righteousness, allowed Lan Qiren to remain unmoved by the cacophonous crash.

“So I have questions,” Wei Wuxian said. “Many, many questions, and I’m going to want answers to…uh, are you all right?”

Lan Qiren ignored Wei Wuxian’s rush, finishing the stanza he was playing and letting his hands still over the guqin. “Sit, and I will answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

Wei Wuxian closed the door behind him and put up a talisman for privacy, like the ones they used to use during the war, before coming to sit across the table from Lan Qiren. He was frowning. “Honored Teacher Lan, your lips are red,” he said cautiously. “Were you coughing up blood just now?”

“An old injury from the war,” Lan Qiren said, unable to resist recalling the memory of Wen Xu’s wild smirk as he’d deliberately smashed his ribs into pieces, grinding his palm against Lan Qiren’s chest to force the broken pieces to pierce his lungs. Nie Mingjue had executed Wen Xu only a few months later, a matter that had greatly eased his nightmares…truly Lan Qiren had to get to the bottom of this mystery as soon as possible; once Lan Xichen’s name was cleared, he could focus on trying to devise a solution to cleanse Nie Mingjue of the spiritual poison. “It can be aggravated by excess choler. Do not concern yourself about it.”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was concerning himself about it. “But you nearly –” Lan Qiren glared until he dropped the volume of his voice significantly. “You nearly got into a fight with dozens of cultivators back at the Qiongqi Path on my behalf! Wouldn’t that have aggravated it even worse than just getting angry?”

“Much worse,” Lan Qiren agreed peaceably. “My talents in battle are not especially notable, although better with the guqin than the sword. Regardless, the effort expended would almost certainly result in a severe backlash later.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “Then why did you do it?”

“Was there an alternative?”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened and closed a few more times.

“How are your shijie and shizi?” Lan Qiren asked when it appeared that Wei Wuxian was not going to force any words out of his mouth any time soon. He folded his hands together in an appropriate manner – he, at least, knew his etiquette, and would continue to model it in the hope that Wei Wuxian might one day catch a hint. “Well, I trust?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re great. Jin Ling is perfect, shijie is wonderful, the peacock doesn’t deserve either of them, though he’s gotten better, I guess,” Wei Wuxian said, then shook his head as if to clear it. “And I wouldn’t have been able to see either of them if not for you.”

Personally, Lan Qiren didn’t think one Jin Zixun and any number of his friends would actually be able to stop Wei Wuxian, preplanned ambush or no, so he just hummed noncommittally. “You said you had questions?”

“Yeah, and now I have even more,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, but he seemed to settle down a little. “Let’s start with the fact that you said you needed help on a musical issue, but that it is also somehow an attempted murder. What’s that about?”

Lan Qiren grimaced. “Serve tea,” he instructed Wei Wuxian, and waited until he was midway through the process – and thus not staring straight at Lan Qiren – to start talking. “I have reason to believe that Nie Mingjue has been poisoned with spiritual poison.”

Wei Wuxian nearly spilled the tea, but managed to stop himself in time. “Chifeng-zun? Impossible!” Then he frowned. “I’d heard his temper was getting far worse, of late. Just mentions of it in passing…you think it’s because of that?”

“It may be. The Nie sect is prone to encountering qi deviations; a spiritual poison, especially one that specifically targets choleric feelings such as irritation and rage, would be particularly insidious when aimed against them. Should he die, everyone might be inclined to assume that the cause was hereditary rather than external.”

“A perfect murder. What type of poison?” Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows went up. “Wait – you think – musical poison?”

“My sect is renowned for using musical cultivation as healing techniques,” Lan Qiren pointed out, not sure why it seemed to come as such a shock to Wei Wuxian. “Antidotes grow alongside poisons, and all that can heal can also hurt – anyway, isn’t what you do a type of musical cultivation as well?”

“Good point,” Wei Wuxian said ruefully. “All right, that makes sense. That definitely seems like a real problem…but why do you need my help?”

“My health is poor, and I do not know what such an investigation will require,” Lan Qiren said. “And I cannot ask anyone in my sect to assist me.”

“Why not?”

“Because the primary suspect,” Lan Qiren said heavily, “is Xichen.”

Wei Wuxian stared.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few long moments of blank gawping. “Please forgive me, honored teacher, but I think I misheard you. Are you saying that you think Zewu-jun is poisoning Chifeng-zun?”

“I hope dearly that he is not, of course,” Lan Qiren said. “In fact, part of the reason for my desire to investigate privately is to assist in clearing him of suspicion –”

“No, no, hold on, don’t move on just yet,” Wei Wuxian said, holding up his hands. “You think Zewu-jun – Lan Xichen! – might be capable of poisoning his sworn brother and, as far as I know, best friend? Your nephew?”

“Yes.”

“You really think he’s capable of something like that?”

“I have done my best to raise him to be the sort of man who would not be,” Lan Qiren said, and thought suddenly of his own brother – their father had treasured him, cared for him, valued him above all else. Would he have ever imagined that he would do what he had done and end up living out his life in seclusion, only to die pointlessly at the hands of the Wen sect? “And yet, who’s to say?”

“Uh, me? All the cultivation world? It’s Zewu-jun! He’s one of the most upright people I’ve ever met! You might as well suspect Lan Zhan – you don’t, do you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. He appreciated the righteous crescendo in Wei Wuxian’s voice, particularly when Lan Wangji was mentioned – unfortunate as it might be to find that Lan Wangji’s seemingly hopeless affection might actually be requited, since it remained a terrible idea – but it was a little inconvenient at the moment. “But equally I cannot burden him with the duty to suspect his brother. It would only hurt him.”

Wei Wuxian quieted down at that. “I can see that,” he said, grimacing. “But…why would you suspect Zewu-jun?”

“The evidence is – suggestive.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “To be clear, while I will of course value the truth above all else, I am not looking for evidence of Lan Xichen’s guilt. I am hoping to exculpate him.”

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, now frowning in earnest. “All right,” he said. “I still don’t really believe it, but other people might, and that’s bad enough. Even unfounded rumors can make for real trouble. Tell me what you know about it.”

“My nephew has been helping Nie Mingjue to ease the symptoms of his familial tendency towards qi deviations by playing him one of the strongest and most secret Lan sect healing songs,” Lan Qiren explained. “The spiritual poison I have observed in Nie Mingjue’s body is precisely a variation on that healing song – only instead of the pure version, which is designed to calm and heal disrupted qi, it is intermixed with another song that deliberately encourages spiritual turmoil.”

“All right. I suppose playing for Chifeng-zun gives Zewu-jun opportunity, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only one who could’ve applied the poison song.”

“The Song of Turmoil is a rare import, hidden away in one of sect’s forbidden books. Only very few people have access to that part of our collection.”

Wei Wuxian arched his eyebrows. “And yet you can immediately recognize it?”

“I enjoy studying obscure musical texts as an aid in composition,” Lan Qiren said, mild censure in his voice. “Would you dare claim you do not do the same?”

“…fine, fine, good point.” Wei Wuxian waved his hand. “Okay, fine…still, I’m not convinced. Even if the only source of the song is the Lan sect’s library, there was a lot of chaos these past few years. Someone else could have picked it up, couldn’t they?”

“It’s possible,” Lan Qiren admitted. “Unfortunately, the tune had the same starts and stops that are characteristic of Xichen’s playing.”

As a musical cultivator, even Wei Wuxian had to concede that the unique quirks of playing style were difficult, although not impossible, to replicate, and moreover that one would have to wonder why anyone else would bother doing so, especially in a spiritual poison they presumably hoped would go entirely undetected. He rubbed his forehead, clearly thinking it over. “So, wait, are you saying you heard this musical poison getting played? Were you affected by it? Why didn’t you interrupt in order to stop it or to find out who was responsible?”

Lan Qiren shook his head. “I did not hear the playing, only the effects.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t hear it get played, how do you know that the playing had Zewu-jun’s idiosyncratic characteristics?”

“I’m very familiar with how Xichen plays. How would I not notice it? Even if I only heard it intermixed with Nie Mingjue’s own base tone, the sound is distinctive enough to recognize.”

Wei Wuxian was staring at him, looking blank again. A moment later his brow furrowed as if he’d just had a thought that seemed strange to him. He said, “Honored teacher, a question. When I said I wasn’t the one who cast the curse on Jin Zixun, you said that the person who cast it played the guqin, not the flute. I’d been wondering…how did you know that?”

“The curse has the sound of a breaking guqin string, which does not accord with Jin Zixun’s own music,” Lan Qiren explained. “The person who cast it was moderately powerful and very well-trained, although this represents an overreach on their part. I think it is likely that they incurred a backlash due to the casting –”

“You just heard it?” Wei Wuxian interrupted. It was rather rude, but Lan Qiren supposed he’d signed up for that. “You just looked at him and heard the curse that had been placed on him?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“You can hear what people’s spiritual energy sounds like?” Wei Wuxian was growing pale.

“Not spiritual energy directly,” Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by what seemed like an outsized reaction. Not only was Wei Wuxian’s face pale, his fists clenched, but his song, normally so free and clear, had become suppressed, tense, tightly strung. “More in the nature of the sound of a person’s spirit itself. Your Ghost General, for instance; he has a very gentle melody, very soft, but the underlying base is harsh, jagged, thick with resentment, less playing than dying – he needs to learn to marry those two parts of his spirit together, or else he’ll have trouble finding peace. That’s why I offered to take him as a student.”

“What about me?” Wei Wuxian asked. He was almost vibrating with the need to know. “What about my music? Has it – changed?”

“It’s gotten a little more sober, which is not uncommon with tragedy,” Lan Qiren said, and felt as though he were on the edge of some terrible revelation. “But no, fundamentally you remain the same person you always were.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled, hard. A trill of relief.

“Something happened that made you think it would change,” Lan Qiren deduced, reaching up to stroke his beard thoughtfully. He watched as Wei Wuxian’s eyes flickered one way, then another. “Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him.

“Are you unwilling to return to orthodox cultivation – or unable?”

There was a world of difference between the two: one was arrogance, relentless and unrestrained, looking down at the truths the cultivators of the world and their ancestors had worked so hard to unearth, the other merely a depressing practicality – who wouldn’t choose to cultivate something if the alternative was nothing at all?

And yet…how could it be?

And why would Wei Wuxian be so terrified of letting others discover it?

“That’s none of your business,” Wei Wuxian said, teeth set in a bitter smile that was more of a grimace than anything else. “I agreed to help you, Honored Teacher, but my business is my own.”

“But –”

“Another question,” Wei Wuxian said. “Different subject: I know you don’t lie, and earlier you said…what you said. So tell me, what Lan sect girl has her heart so set on me that you decided to come tell me in person that I wasn’t allowed marry her?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I only meant to advise you that it was a poor match for you both; it was not meant as an insult to you,” he objected, a little offended. “If you and Wangji insist, I will not stand in your way.”

He shook his head and sighed a little, regretful; he would not pursue the matter Wei Wuxian was hiding any further. He wanted to help, curiosity itching at him, but Wei Wuxian was right – it was none of his business.

“As long as your reliance on demonic cultivation does not impede your assistance in my investigation, I will not bring it up again,” he concluded. “How do you propose we begin?”

“…Lan Zhan?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I already explained to you why I do not wish to involve Wangji, and that I do not suspect him. Why would we start with him?”

“Not for the investigation,” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his face bright red. “About the – marriage!”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #jin guangshan #jin zixuan #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #polyphonic

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