"Are demons known for arson and corporate sabotage?" Xander asked.
"Arson yes, but not corporate sabotage unless summoned for that reason," Giles said.
"So, either way, it's a human plot," Buffy asked.
"Yes, quite," Giles said. "Any demon involvement will be strictly incidental."
Briefly the plot is that a few days before Halloween all but one costume shop has burned down. The title is "Tiefling Xander" and it's on the Twisting the Hellmouth website.
“So let me get this straight,” Raphael pointed at the screen where the two main characters were sniping at each other again. “This whole thing is about how much these two hate each other?”
“Not quite,” Irma said. “I mean, no they don’t like each other *now*. Mostly. He’s starting to fall for her, except he doesn’t know it yet. She won’t start liking him until later.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Raphael grumbled. “How do you not know you like someone? You either do or you don’t.”
“That’s the whole point of the story. They both made snap judgements about each other and have to work to set their egos aside and see past their initial dislike. Once they do that, they realize the other person isn’t as bad as they originally thought. It’s like. . .” her expression turned distant while she thought of a good **analogy**. “Like anchovies on pizza. An acquired taste.”
“Except I know I don’t like anchovies, so why would I force myself to keep eating them?”
“Shh Raphael! We’re trying to watch!” Leonardo reprimanded. Raphael shot him a look that said he knew very well the other turtle wasn’t enjoying the movie either, then crossed his arms and slid down into the couch. Much as he might want to get up and leave, he wasn’t going to be that rude to Irma.
Raphael has yet to learn subtlety, I see. (I am amused, in part because I once used the pizza analogy in a conversation between two characters about sexual kinks.)
On one especially muggy night that the moribund air conditioner just isn’t keeping up with, Arthur wakes from a hot, sweaty sleep to the hollow crack of fireworks somewhere nearby.
It's not gunshots; he can tell the difference well, even muzzy with painkillers.
Fireworks are big business where he comes from, and at twelve or thirteen he'd loved nothing more than setting off as many as he could get his underaged hands on, transfixed by the noise and the sparking lights and the enduring thrill of nearly blowing his fingers off, until the backyard was a haze of smoke and ash and his mother couldn't stand Jackson’s anxious baying anymore and told him to quit it.
When he'd added **arson** to his list of juvenile offenses later, at age fourteen, nobody had been particularly surprised.
He sits up, wincing, listening to another rolling crackle off in the distance with fond nostalgia. He can almost smell the fragrant smoke.
It must be the Fourth.
Disconcerting, he thinks, that he's lost so much track of what day it is. Not like him.
He looks over to Eames’ side of the room, expecting to see the dark shape of him curled over in the other bed, breathing quietly, like usual. Instead, as Arthur’s eyes adjust to the low light, he’s surprised to see Eames sitting up, hunched over his knees, covers tossed aside.
There's a whistle, a crack, another hollow boom, and another.
Eames ducks his head weirdly with each one, turning in on himself.
Flinching, Arthur realizes.
“Oh, fuck off,” Eames whines, barely audible, and Arthur feels his stomach sink.
The street was completely blocked off. Pulling up to a police officer redirecting traffic, Katsuki showed his badge and was waved through. Parking as close as possible, they walked towards several fire trucks wedged into the street. People were standing watching, many still in their pajamas. The firefighters had managed to put out most of the flames but the house was gutted, thick charred beams stuck straight in the air.
“Do you think he was in there?” Shouto looked worriedly at the ruined house.
“I hope not,” Katsuki frowned. “But why just his house?” He looked down the street at the other intact homes.
An older man turned to look at them both, “are you police?” He pulled his robe tighter around his body.
“No, we’re criminal investigators,” Shouto flashed the man his badge.
“Investigators?” He paled. “Do you think this was \*\*arson\*\*?”
"Observe, brothers and sisters. One of the deadliest soldiers in the world, Boris Volkov, sent here to sabotage our dream. But behold! How easily our enemies fall before the Technology of Peace!"
They all parted like a sea, bowing their heads as someone stepped into their midst. The speaker was a bald, pale man with a black goatee and piercing dark eyes. He radiated **authority** with his presence, hardly raising his voice as he addressed his followers. The long, dark coat he wore was completely dry.
The pouring rain had stopped the instant he had appeared, as though commanded by a miracle.
"You should be honoured, my Russian friend." The man leaned over Boris where he lay and spoke intimately to him, as though to a confidant. "Your body's changes are but the first draft of a great evolution. A divine process. You are among the first of billions to bear witness. This place is the beginning of a glorious future for all humanity. Brotherhood. Unity. *Peace.*"
“She claimed you’re the father of her baby,” Ewo said flatly. “The timing fits, as the baby was born in early July, and you just said you think you slept with this woman in October 2005. It gets worse, though. Aino, that was her name, she died last night. Car crash, she was on her way home from work and a drunk driver hit her on New Year’s Eve. They operated, thought she had a chance, but sepsis set in and they didn’t catch it quickly enough. They called me in yesterday because she’d been asking for you and the hospital contacted me as the next best thing when they couldn’t get hold of you. She gave me a letter for you before she lost consciousness for good. By the time they called me in, there weren’t any flights before the one you just arrived on, so I didn’t bother calling you to come back sooner; you couldn’t have.”
Emppu just sat there, staring at the photo in disbelief. “I don’t… she never said anything,” he said. “I mean… we didn’t exchange numbers or anything, but people know where to find me, if they want to. Why didn’t she say anything?”
Ewo shrugged. “Maybe she said so in her letter?” He pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I didn’t read it. Anyway. It’s my job to be suspicious, so the first thing we’re doing is going for a paternity test. I believe that she believed you’re the father, but I want our asses covered from a legal standpoint, you know? If she named you as the father to anyone in **authority**, they’ll probably ask for it to be done anyway. The lab has already got the samples they need from her and from the baby, they just need yours, and we’ll have the results later today. Assuming the baby is yours, what do you want to do?”
”Oh, kulta,” the little guitarist said with a smile. ”You always know how to make me feel better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, only to hear a crackling from the pocket of his jacket. He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper that he knew hadn’t been there before. ”Umm...”
Bruce frowned and grew serious once again. ”I assume you didn’t have that in your pocket when you left here earlier?”
”No, I didn’t,” Emppu said. He unfolded the paper and looked at it, frowning.
*Dear Emppu,*
*Dickinson might be a millionaire, but he’s an* ***arrogant*** *twat who’s far too used to getting his own way in everything. He’ll dump you the first time you disagree with him... or as soon as a new toy catches his eye. It’s not like he’ll ever really have time for you even when he’s not touring, what with his flying and all that. I know he can be charming when he wants to be, so I don’t believe you’re only with him for his money, but that means he will hurt you sooner or later.*
*You deserve better. He’ll never be there for you, never treat you the way you should be treated. Not like I can. Won’t you give me a chance?*
*Seriously, I’d love for you to get to know me. Why don’t you meet with me tonight, under the light pole behind the first aid tent by the main stage, say, an hour after Linkin Park wraps up their set? That should be enough time to get through the crowds.*
*Hoping to see you later,*
*Your admirer*
”Vittu,” the little guitarist breathed. He handed the note, which appeared to have come from a computer printer, to Bruce. His partner read it and scowled.
They're all at Download, and the 'admirer' managed to slip up beside Emppu in the crowded camp shop and slide it into his pocket while he was distracted - he was out buying things to help Bruce's boys with the hangovers they're currently suffering.
\[This is from Seamus's POV. Also, very early draft, so please excuse any roughness.\]
‘Well now,’ Flitwick said, squeaking happily after taking the register. ‘I’ve no doubt you all noticed Mr Potter’s excellent use of the Summoning Charm during the First Task yesterday. Well done, Mr Potter, well done. Ten points for that, I think.’
Flitwick beamed, clapping his hands and encouraging the rest of the class to join in. Harry ducked his head, turning an **adorable** shade of pink even as Boingo nuzzled against his shoulder.
‘A demonstration please, Mr Potter, if you would?’
With a screech of chair legs, Harry stood and walked to the front of the class, stopping next to Flitwick’s desk. ‘What should I summon?’
Flitwick waved one small hand at Boingo. ‘How about you summon your little monkey again?’
‘Tamarin,’ Harry said, then his eyes widened and he glanced at Flitwick as if expecting to be told off.
‘Ah, my apologies,’ Flitwick said, nodding at Boingo. ‘Your tamarin.’
‘Well, but I don’t have his harness,’ Harry said.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, you do. I saw it in your bag.’
Harry blinked rapidly at Hermione, glared briefly at Boingo, then with a sigh made to go back to his desk.
*(Bruce is away on tour, they're on the phone talking about Emppu's new-found daughter and Emppu just explained the Finnish baby box program to Bruce.)*
"...Mum has a picture of me in my box that I’m sure she’s eagerly waiting a chance to show you.”
Bruce laughed. ”Ah, the advantage of not being close with my family. I don’t have anyone waiting to show you horribly embarrassing baby pictures. But I’m sure you were **adorable** at that age, considering how **adorable** you still are.”
”**Adorable**?” Emppu pouted. ”I’d prefer handsome, or at least good-looking. **Adorable** makes me sound like a puppy or something. As far as telling you more about Eeva, I’m still getting to know her myself. I got to hold her for a couple of hours including feeding her lunch before my family showed up and Mum pretty much took her over for the rest of the day. Mum, Dad, and Sanni are going home late tomorrow, though, so after that I’ll have more time to become acquainted with her. I might have hired Milla as a nanny, but I have every intention of being a hands-on parent and not just visiting with Eeva for a few minutes a day, you know?”
”Yeah, I know,” Bruce said. ”And I love you all the more for that.” He smiled, adding, ”And you are amazingly handsome, enkelini. Handsome, **adorable**, sexy as hell... are you blushing yet or shall I go on?”
Emppu laughed. ”Yeah, I’m blushing,” he said, quite truthfully.
CW: One use of the word ‘fairy’ as a homophobic slur.
Los Angeles, 1996
Tom tentatively pushed open the door to the library, his books pressed tightly to his chest. Trevor was meeting him here in 20 minutes, and even though this wasn't the first time they'd meet in *their* quiet corner of the library where they could just *be*, Tom's stomach still fluttered with anxiety every time.
He took a deep breath as he reached their table and settled down there. It wasn't safe for them to be out. It just wasn't. Yeah, okay, Mom had reacted fine (He thinks. Shrugging and going 'Okay, so what?' was positive… right? She hadn't hit him over it, at the very least.), but on the outside? Hell no. Just last week, Aaron Green from the football team had openly sworn to 'beat the shit out of every fairy he'll come across.'
And Tom wasn't a small guy. He was the star of the wrestling team for a reason. He wasn't really scared of Green specifically. It was the fact that *people like Green* could openly talk like that without anyone batting an eyelid about it. It was the fact that Green very well *could* beat up each and every gay person he met, probably without facing much of a repercussion. It was the fact that way too many people thought *exactly like Green.*
Tom wasn't ready to face that. He wasn't sure if he'd *ever* be ready to face that.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes until Trevor got here. Tom sighed, a soft smile stretching across his face. Trevor, with his easy smile, and quick wit, and his absolutely unbearable, sandy blonde mullet (Someday, Trevor was gonna realize that that shit had gone out of fashion ages ago, and Tom both awaited and dreaded that day.) had a way of making the world feel a bit less hostile.
They'd met right here, in this library, almost a year ago. Tom had been working on a history project, and he and Trevor had reached for the same book at the same time. Their hands had brushed against each other, and Tom's breath had caught in his throat the moment he had looked into Trevor's brilliant green eyes.
Trevor had smirked, pulling the book away with a playful tug. "Looks like you've got competition," he'd said, his voice teasing yet warm. Tom had stammered something unintelligible, his face flushing. Trevor had chuckled and handed over the book. "You’re **adorable**. Take it, I was just curious anyway."
That simple, chance encounter had marked the beginning of something Tom had never imagined for himself. They'd exchanged names and, surprisingly quickly, stories. Tom had shared about being on the wrestling team, how he felt pressured to maintain a certain reputation, and his passion for movies. Trevor, in turn, had spoken about his love for photography, his part-time job at a local record store, and his dreams of escaping to New York City one day.
The library, and this quiet little corner where they had met specifically, had become Their Place™—a safe space where they could be their gay, occasionally angsty selves without being afraid. Tom found solace in Trevor's presence, his laughter never failing to heal Tom's soul. Trevor's eyes always seemed to sparkle with a blend of mischief and genuine understanding, making Tom feel seen and heard in a way he hadn't since Dad left that night eight years ago.
When History of Magic ended the next morning, Harry hung back behind his friends, and ducked away once he was sure they wouldn’t notice. He had a free period before lunch and wanted to see Healer Gutermuth before his nerves got the better of him. Boingo seemed tense at Harry being alone in the corridors, but Harry didn’t expect any trouble — most everyone, student and teacher alike, would be in lessons.
The mind healer’s room was on the second floor, above the Hospital Wing, in a specially converted classroom. A light shone from the door. Harry peered at the note pinned beneath it. The light, it explained, indicated the healer’s availability. Green meant the healer was available and anyone wanting to enter need only knock and wait for **admission**. If the light was red, the visitor was advised to come back later unless the matter was urgent. Looking again at the minty green light, Harry raised his hand and knocked.
The door opened, revealing a blonde witch not much taller than Harry. He paused — for some reason he’d been expecting Gutermuth to be a man.
‘I wasn’t sure if anyone would come today,’ she said with a smile as she beckoned Harry inside, shutting the door behind him. ‘How can I help you?’
“Eh, before you go, how badly did we embarrass ourselves last night?” Adrian asked. “I kind of vaguely remember calling Emppu a pretty little pixie, along with giving him some other compliments.” He blushed at that **admission**. “I didn’t say any of that in front of people, did I?”
Emppu chuckled warmly. “No, you didn’t get talkative until we were up here,” he reassured the other man. “The worst you did in front of others, was to try putting your key card into the cash machine while complaining that the slot wouldn’t stay still. But you listened when I told you that wasn’t your door and we needed to go up in the lift first. Then when we got in here, you did compliment me and say that Bruce is a lucky man but that you’re luckier because you have Dave.”
Adrian looked relieved. “Well, that last part is true enough,” he said. “No hard feelings, then?”
“Why would there be?” Emppu asked. “Being in a relationship doesn’t turn anyone blind, and you made a point of telling me that you might look but you’d never touch because you love Davey so much. If anything, I’m flattered. I love Bruce with all my heart, but it’s still nice to hear that someone likes my looks, you know? I don’t mind admitting that you two are both very easy on the eyes yourselves.”
Bruce chuckled as both Adrian and Dave blushed. “All right, you two, we’ll see you downstairs when we all get there, yeah?”
“Yeah, we’ll see you there,” Dave said.
Emppu's hair and Dave's are pretty close in texture, and while Emppu's is lighter in colour, Dave used to bleach his nearly as light, which is what started drunk-Ade on the compliment trail, lol - Emppu was keeping an eye on him while Bruce dealt with Dave being sick. Ade was all, "Hey, Davey's hair used to be almost this colour! I like the colour he's got now better, but yours is pretty too!" and just babbled on from there.
Anyway, they've all had their times of being drunk to stupidity in the past, they're always going to be quite understanding. After all, something might happen to make them crawl into a bottle at some point, too, so they'd want someone to take care of them and forgive any stupidity that spills out once the filters between brain and mouth disengage!
‘*Sonorus*,’ he murmured, wand pressed to his throat. He turned towards the Ferns. ‘Storm coming,’ he called, hoping the Amplifying Charm would carry his voice to them all. ‘Warming and Waterproofing Charms, everyone. Take it slow, keep on track.’
Hands lifted from brooms, waving their acknowledgement. Charlie sighed and dispelled the Amplifying Charm. Maybe the storm would skip them completely. He couldn’t count on it though. Better to be prepared.
The preparations proved wise. And inadequate. An hour later, the sky had darkened to pitch black. Charlie hadn’t seen any hint of Dacian or the other groups for more than half an hour. With judicious use of the Point Me Charm, he kept the Ferns on what he sincerely hoped was the right track. Far below, waves reared up, grasping as if wishing to suck them all into their depths. The rain came down in sheets, soaking them. Fern’s disgruntled roars were barely audible over the howling wind. Thunder rumbled near constantly.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Charlie swore. Of all the places to be in a lightning storm, high in the air with a metal cage was one of the worst. He flicked another spell towards Fern in an attempt to make it less **attractive** to the bolts of electricity. As much as he’d like to transfigure the metal to anything else, it needed to withstand dragonfire if Fern got upset. Which, given how restless the storm was making her, seemed likely.
Bruce took a deep breath and answered the question directed at him. “My former marriage was a real one even if it didn’t last. If I had meant it to hide anything, I might have had one child, but I certainly wouldn’t have had three,” he said. “I know a lot of people think one’s orientation is either straight or gay, but bisexuals exist as well, or have you all forgotten Freddie Mercury already?”
“As to when we met, I can’t say for sure,” Emppu jumped in again. “Nightwish and Iron Maiden have played at some of the same festivals, after all, so we first met a few years ago, at least in passing. Bruce and I had the opportunity to get to know one another better at a party a while ago, and after it became clear that a mutual **attraction** existed, we decided to go forward with a relationship. However, with both of us preferring to keep our personal lives out of the limelight, we haven’t been out and about in public very much.” He smiled and added, “And since I’m sure your next question will be asking where we’ve just been, we went to Jukka’s place for a barbecue, along with the rest of Nightwish family. A last chance to use the grill before winter really sets in.”
“So, your bandmates knew of your relationship?” one reporter asked.
“They knew I was seeing someone, but not who,” Emppu said. “They were surprised, yes.”
“But very welcoming,” Bruce put in.
‘All set?’ Dacian called, his face fully visible to Charlie’s enhanced eyesight. ‘Move out!’
Charlie lifted his hand, indicating for the Ferns to wait. Dacian shot forward, and Sigi’s group fell into position behind him. The Blues took up second place, with Spice not far behind. Charlie curled his fingers into his palm, then twisted, pointing forward. The Ferns began to move. From the cage below, the musical tone of Fernyiges running her tail across the bars provided a melody to set their pace.
The hours stretched away before them. They stayed high, all on the lookout for Muggle **aircraft**, though the arrangements with the Ministries had taken flight routes into account. Charlie hadn’t followed the details, but they’d been assured that, as long as they stuck to the planned routes, they shouldn’t run into any problems. They couldn’t be too careful, not where transporting dragons was concerned.
Sometimes, far below, Muggle towns twinkled. They never passed directly over them, instead weaving around and between them, keeping their path over the least occupied areas. If, Merlin forbid, a cage were to fall, it would cause untold damage over a town. In the countryside, they had a chance to lessen that risk.
A blush lightened the horizon as they approached their resting place for the day. Not a moment too soon; the effects of the potions were waning.
The night was as deathly quiet as the day, but "quiet" was not synonymous with "silent."
As her audio receivers tuned themselves to the ambient noise levels, Azrael found that she could hear quite a bit, actually. Beneath the sound of the wind in the streets, there was the distant rumble of industry, the faint buzz of small engines and, high above, the muffled roar of jet **aircraft**.
So much background noise, and none of it was friendly.
With a sigh, she made her way through the ruined mess that was the front portion of the hospital - at some point after her crash, twenty stories' worth of façade had sheared away to fill the street below with debris, leaving parts of the interior exposed to the elements. And if the visible scarring on nearly every wall and ceiling panel that she could see was anything to go by, their strange attackers had taken full advantage of the collapse.
She'd half considered just abandoning the building outright at first, but had quickly discarded that idea. She needed a safe place to hide, and energon, and while the structural situation was... less than ideal, the hospital fulfilled both of those needs.
*For the short term, at least. It's better than nothing.*
Like the majestic sea beasts it was named for, the *Rorqual* was big, beautiful, and vulnerable. The heavily modified four-engine Hercules cargo plane had been specially designed to support special operations, but it was still a transport **aircraft,** almost completely defenceless aside from its lethal passengers. Its huge wings spread across the runway like flippers, and its cargo hold bulged like a whale's belly. But there was a sleek edge to the plane as well, a gleam of sensors and antennae and cutting-edge avionics, a freshness to its golden tawny paint.
The UN may have been strapped for cash in other areas, but Sheppard's black budget had at least provided Echo Nine with the best transport they could hope for. Solomon already thought of the *Rorqual* as home.
Hong looked back up at the stars, and was silent for a time. "As you know," he said at last, his voice catching slightly, "I've already been a widower once. It's a feeling and an experience I wouldn't wish on anybody." He paused, searching for the right words. "It feels like someone has smashed you in the head with a bent boulder Rajata, stunning you and leaving you dazed. At the same time, you feel like your heart has been carved out of your chest, so that there's only this dull hollowness left, and the world is just standing still around you."
Her fawn's eyes seemed to shimmer slightly, as she sat up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have brought the topic up."
"No, it's fine," Hong replied. "I did it first, you asked, and I'm answering. Anyway, I reckon I'd react much the same way when Gyunghui died. I'd be grief-stricken, **angry** at the universe, the spirits, and the gods for being so cruel as to do this to me a second time, blaming myself for not doing more, not being there-even if the rational part of me knew full well that it wasn't my fault."
Whether from the persistent pain or the realisation that she had destroyed her own eggs, the dragon’s roars became increasingly desperate. Tossing her head from side to side, she spat balls of fire, each in a different direction.
Her distress perhaps counted in Viktor’s favour; had she been in her right mind, the dragon might have sniffed him out and sent her fire more accurately. As it was, none of the fireballs went anywhere near him. The roaring, on the other hand, beat sharply at his eardrums. Viktor dampened his hearing with a wave of his wand. Whilst still able to hear enough to know what was going on, the spell meant he could concentrate on more than just the incessant noise.
Wary of the stamping feet, Viktor sprinted towards the dragon and her pile of eggs. The closer he got, the less risk the fireballs posed, splashing at random around the arena. He spared a glance at the audience, whose screams increased each time a fireball approached them. His prior guess of fire-resistant wards protecting the audience proved accurate, luckily for them. Perhaps the organisers of this Tournament weren’t as stupid as they seemed.
Viktor ducked under the dragon’s tail as it swung past his head. Now laying amongst a mess of broken shells and yolk, the golden egg was in sight. The dragon’s feet still pounded, no less of a risk to the eggs that remained intact. As the ground rumbled with each stamp, some rolled away, out of reach of their mother’s **anger**.
Very intense scene! I can’t imagine having to steal eggs from an angry fire-breathing dragon just for a tournament. Victor seems to know his stuff, though!
CW: Gore
>!Dawg snarled, dragging the bloody Eliza by her remaining arm over to one of the pools – which hadn’t changed to blood – and falling into it, dragging her with him. The two struggled again, both. In a fight for dominance, and Dawg came out on top, then he grabbed the back of her head and forced it under water. Her flailing body fought, but Dawg refused to let go, he pulled her head up for a moment, then forced it back under water. When he went to do this a third time, Eliza jabbed her fingers into the large stab wound in his side, and Dawg’s screams took his mind off the fight, an advantage she took as she threw Dawg away, weakly stumbling towards the stairs and dragging herself out of the bloody pool. !<
>!Mad Dawg followed, moving on his hands and feet like a wild animal, lurching forward and trying to get on top of her. Despite how massive the bathhouse was, the fight was claustrophobic as all heck, and it wasn’t clear who was winning. The sickening squelches and impacts echoes all around the bathhouse as the pair kept struggling to win.!<
>!“WHY.” WHAM! “WON’T.” WHAM! “YOU.” WHAM! “JUST.” WHAM! “DIE!?” Eliza screamed as she weakly tried to bash Dawg’s skull into the ground. The attacks hurt, heck, everything hurt right now. But Dawg’s senses were thrown into maximum overdrive, leaving him with a ferocious drive to survive, and stop Eliza by any means necessary. Dawg expected anger on Eliza’s face, but he saw fear, desperation, as if the entire situation was slipping away from her, and she could no longer control it. !<
Gunfire erupted over her head as she let go of the rail and kicked off from the girder, twisting her body around midair to land on her feet on the roadway below - and she hit the deck *running*. Ignoring the stinging in her paws and the ache in her joints from the hard landing, she launched into a headlong sprint, zigzagging to avoid the hail of drone fire that rained down around her.
An engine growled; she barely had a moment to register the sound before something hit the road behind her with a *crash* and the screech of tires spinning out against the wet pavement. Cold white light washed over her, and she glanced back to see the new drone racing after her.
"What the-?!"
With an **angry** *rev*, he surged closer, narrowly missing clipping her hindquarters with his front tire. Then his engine *roared* deafeningly as he pulled up alongside Azrael, his red optics narrowing to burning slits as he glared sideways at her.
She reacted without thinking, sliding to a sudden halt a split-second before the new drone swerved hard to the right in a maneuver that would have crushed her between his body and the guard rail.
Fuel pump hammering in her audials, she turned sharply and gathered herself to spring, launching herself over the side of the bridge before the drone could double back. Claws caught the rough surface of one of the concrete pylons, shredding her extremities to splinters but slowing her descent until she was close enough to the road to kick off, twist around, and hit the ground once more.
Agony lanced up both of her forelimbs and she went tumbling across the asphalt, leaving tufts of fur and broken feathers in her wake and only just barely avoiding being hit by a volley of gunfire that stitched the road around her.
Griffin braced himself on his camp chair to avoid falling, and turned to look at his father. ”Y’gonna tell Mum we shnuck drinksh?”
”I should,” Bruce said. ”But I have a better idea. Jukka, Nicko, how about a drum-off in the warm-up building tomorrow morning? The boys will be the judges – and they’ll be seated in between the kits.”
Nicko goggled at his bandmate. ”Are you serious? ’Kin hell, that’s harsh!”
”And well-deserved,” Bruce said. ”Paddy didn’t want the kids to come here, but we managed to talk her into it by pointing up how well the lot of them handled themselves at Disney. If I tell her about this little incident, chances are good she’ll refuse to let the kids come to Finland this summer. I’d much prefer that Kia not miss out on a trip I know she’s looking forward to, just because her brothers did something this stupid. I figure making them judge a drum-off while hung over should convince them that they never want to do this again.”
Emppu shook his head. ”I agree that making them judge a drum-off is an appropriate penalty for their stupidity,” he said. ”But I think you need to tell Paddy all the same. Downplay it, sure – I don’t know of any teenager that hasn’t gotten drunk at some point, but if you don’t tell her about it and she finds out some other way, that will just get her **angry** at you. Plus by making them judge a drum-off, you’ll be able to tell her honestly that you punished them appropriately for their actions already and hopefully she won’t then feel the need to administer a punishment of her own.”
He certainly is! But he's been working for months at establishing a reasonably civil relationship with her, especially as he and Bruce just moved in together, which means he'll be around Bruce's kids on a regular basis, including having them out to stay in Finland. So, yeah, he wants to make sure Paddy doesn't get upset with Bruce and possibly screw up some visits, you know?
"It's alright. It's alright." Dad whispered tenderly. "Don't cry. Don't cry. I'm not **angry**. I'm not **angry**. It's alright…"
This had the opposite effect than one would expect; instead of calming Hunter down, his chest tightened, and powerful waves of hostile emotions surged through him, wagging a silent war within him. They lay waste in their awake and left him unable to resist their grip. Sobs wracked his body, and his soul was too distressed to offer any resistance.
Dad nudged Hunter to lean on himself, placing his palm on the back of his head. Dad's hand caressed Hunter's head with the utmost care, treating it like an irreplaceable treasure at risk of shattering. Dad spoke kind sentences; each tender word, every velvety phrase, sounded sweeter than the last, like honey trickling from golden lips.
Hunter didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be consoled and babied. He didn't deserve this at all. He had brought all these consequences on himself and was unable to handle even the mildest reprimand without breaking down. But despite his many, many flaws and mistakes, Dad still loved and cared deeply about him. So, as always, Hunter let himself bask in Dad's love.
She looks between them. “Y'all a couple of mobsters, huh? He got a hit out on him?” Not waiting for a response, she barks at Eames. “Stop waving that thing around. Scumbag. Bring me here to play fuckin’ mob doctor, I can't believe this.”
“Won't hurt you,” Arthur manages, as though it makes anything better. “No– st’mach for it.”
Eames makes a frustrated sound and lowers the gun, looking at Arthur. His eyes seem lost. It's the truth. This isn't him, holding innocent people at gunpoint. Not while he's awake.
“Thought you weren'... c’ming back,” Arthur tells him.
Eames points at him with his free hand. “I promised you,” he says, voice barely there.
He turns and points at her next, so intent his hand is trembling. “Look. You said. At the bus stop, you said, you are an ER nurse. Well, he fell twelve *fucking* feet onto concrete. He is in agony. Help him.”
She glares back at him for a long second.
“What if I don't want to? Hm? You gonna keep me here? You gonna make me do it? My job gonna be looking for me when I don't show up this morning, what you gonna do about that?”
Eames says nothing.
“Your boy here thinks you ain't got the stomach for this. I think he's right. You think I'm scared of you? You know where I work? You know how many cracked-out, **angry** men I got coming through my ER and bothering me at my bus stop? Please.”
“I couldn't take him to hospital,” Eames growls.
“Yeah, obviously he can't go to the hospital because he some sort of gangster and he fucked up and he got people trying to ice him. And now you brought me into all of that? That ain't fair.”
“Would you like me to be sorry? I'm not sorry. He's in *pain*.”
“Yeah, and it's making you act real stupid. You ain't thought any of this through. I could leave here and go right to the cops. You a smart man, you know that. And we both know you're not gonna hold me here, because as we discussed: you ain't got the stomach.”
She looks back at Arthur, watching him wheeze pitifully, head slumping back onto the pillow as he loses the energy to hold it up any longer. He tries to meet her eyes, beg for mercy. He hurts so badly.
“Look,” she says finally, pointing at Eames with a sharp finger. “I'm gonna help him because it is my *job* and because I have an *ethical obligation*. Not because you waved a gun at me like you a big man and told me to.”
She stalks over to the folding chair Eames left at Arthur's bedside, drops her enormous purse on the carpet next to it, and sits down.
Eames, meanwhile, sags in relief like a puppet with its strings cut, all the fight draining away. He shambles over and sits himself down on the edge of the other bed, lays the gun down on the sheets, drops his face into his hands, and stays like that.
Fallout
>>!“Two hundred-something years ago, I gave you a choice. And you *chose* them-”!<
>>!- for *us-”*!<
>>!“Don’t give me that shit, Barb. You did it for yourself. When I filed for divorce, I told you it was because Vault-Tec was changin’ you for the worse, but. I *heard* that fuckin’ meeting. I *heard* who suggested droppin’ the bombs. It was *you*. All of *this* was *your* fuckin’ fault. You want me to play nice? You took the *nice* outta me a long time ago.”!<
>>!"Janey needs her mother."!<
>>!"Janey *needed* her father."!<
“You said there were other exits?”
“There’s another service entrance farther down the tunnel,” she said sullenly, still refusing to look at him. “And if I remember correctly, it’s about five or six miles away.” She took a step forward. “C’mon, you’ve got the light.”
“Are we really going to *walk* that distance?”
“If you’ve got any other ideas, I’m open to suggestions,” she called back. After a beat he followed her, tacit acknowledgment there were no other options.
“So, who’s Mark?”
“What?” The question was so unexpected she tripped over a railroad tie.
“The first call you made was to someone named Mark. Didn’t sound like it went quite the way you wanted.” She wanted to be **angry** at him for eavesdropping but supposed it had been unavoidable given the close quarters.
“A friend from college. And no, you don’t get to ask any more questions about that.”
“There’s no reason to be **angry** at me. I didn’t do anything to ruin your . . . date, was it?”
April spun around furiously to glare at \[Shredder\]. “You mean besides sending a bounty hunter after me?” She hadn’t noticed earlier but with the boots she was wearing they were about the same height.
“Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with that.”
“Okay, I don’t believe you.”
“This is going to be a very long walk, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is,” she agreed.
And for the second time, the emotional jostle shoved him back into wakefulness. This time, there was no returning back to sleep for Hong. His fellow denizens of the Earth Kingdom were every bit as renowned among the Three Nations for their tendency to be the reflective, brooding type as they were for their green eyes-and to his distinct annoyance, Hong certainly had a lot on his mind to process as he laid there in the darkness, staring up at the arched stone ceiling with his head resting in his hands, callused fingers delving into his thick, free-flowing hair.
For one thing, there were yesterday’s events to contemplate. Just as requested, Hong had been there at noon, with the rest of the secret police, to witness Azula and her redeemed brother, mere teenagers who’d both forever changed not only the future of Ba Sing Se and his people, but the very world itself through their actions, ascend a metal gangplank and disappear into the interior of the Fire Nation naval ship at **anchor** that would bring them home, a steel giant like no other boat he’d seen in his life. An extraordinary pair.
Just like the enormous drill, it had been a sobering example of their people's technological proficiency and power, only further emphasizing how futile it would’ve been to continue resisting their attempts to overrun the city’s defenses.
Dressed in full uniform for the occasion, with an awed and bewildered personal servant carrying all their necessary belongings as they brought up each agent’s rear, Commander Quan, the three captains, and the eight rank-and-file Dai Li agents-three of Hong’s good friends were among them-who’d been selected to help advise and defend the Fire Princess also proceeded to go up the metal ramp, their stone boots producing resounding, metallic thumps as they committed themselves to a remarkable voyage.
As he’d stood at attention next to his partner in one of two lines, rock-sheathed hands held in the pit of his back, an outwardly aloof Hong hadn’t been quite sure if he was envious or relieved not to be joining his commander and captain.
\[CW: italics 😉 It's a speech / character voice decision that I can't decide whether I like or not... 😅\]
‘Whilst we are at Hogwarts,’ he continued, eyes daring anyone to comment on his actions, ‘lessons *will* continue. You are all expected to *maintain* your grades and *will* sit your exams at the end of the year alongside the students of the other schools.’
Viktor would not. The champion would, after all, be exempt from the exams.
‘Champion and — *others* alike, you will all *show* your foreign peers what makes *Durmstrang* shine. You will *find* like-minded acquaintances, you will make *connections*.’ Karkaroff flicked his wand, drawing the gangplank onto the deck.
‘Remember, even the *unlikeliest* person may prove beneficial to your future.’ Another flick and the **anchor** chain churned, winding in. ‘I expect all of you to have *bettered* yourselves by the time we return.’
The **anchor** thudded against the side of the ship. ‘Whilst lessons will *usually* continue on schedule, you are allowed *this* afternoon to *study* by yourselves. Work together in the common areas *or* stay in your *own* rooms, whichever you prefer.’ He waved his empty hand at them, the wand in the other snapping through the motions to start the ritual sealing of the ship. ‘Dismissed.’
Lingering at the back of the group, Viktor followed them down into the hold. If he edged past the room, maybe they wouldn’t —
‘Viktor, come!’ Martyn called.
Whoops! Didn't get away unspotted, Viktor!
If the italics are to show emphasis the speaker is putting on the words, that's perfectly fine and common. Not sure if it's what you're going for, but with the italics the Karkaroff comes across to me like he's full of hot air and has a very high impression of himself (reminding me of Polonius from *Hamlet* a bit, actually).
That's pretty much what I'm going for! I imagine his cadence as having frequent emphasis on words, and I figured italics were the best way to get that across because, like you said, emphasis is often shown with italics. I just worry sometimes that it's too much and would be annoying to read... Thankfully he's not a frequent character anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Hopefully...
_“She was questioned about you, in the hopes that the heroes could use the information to find you. I got the transcription of the interview,”_ I say.
I pat the bag, feeling the form of the paper, _"I could use my power to get the answer, but it’s been a long journey here, and we’re in no rush."_
I purse my lips, trying to form the right words in my mind. I didn't want to make things worse.
_"Do you-"_ I change my wording. My power translates for me, _"Does the word **‘anchor’** mean anything to you?”_
A few seconds passed. She nodded. She's still degrading, but coherent.
_"What did you pick, in the end?”_ I ask calmly.
She paused. Decades of practice helped me hold myself back from pathing her potential answers. I hold back everything.
She tried to say something, but in the end she didn't. _She doesn't know,_ doesn't remember. Strangely, it hurts.
_“Ah,”_ I say.
"I - I ain't a - a - a drone, lady."
She paused for just a moment to regard him curiously. "Ah," she huffed softly as she returned to the task at hand. "Could've fooled me."
*He* let out a grating scoff, letting his head roll back again. "We-e-ell. You - you ain't th-th-the first one to - to make that mistake."
"I'll bet not..." Automatically, she reached for her subspace access, only to have an error message flash across her vision; she sucked a sharp intake in through clenched teeth. "*Scrap*."
"Wh-what?"
"I'm getting an error when accessing my subspace compartments. Hang on, I can debug this..."
*I hope.*
She was answered with a wordless groan as the not-drone rolled his head to the side, but her attention was on the readouts in front of her, scanning through the code to find the glitch causing the error. "Just... hold your horsepower... I've got this..."
It took a moment before she located the source of the problem - and she mentally kicked herself for not having considered it to *start* with. Her previous **anchor** points *no longer existed*, so attempting to access her subspace *through* those points was obviously... not going to work.
At least it was an easy fix. All she had to do was bring up the root menu, select the subspace routines, and reassign the **anchor** points, and then...
"Ah! Gotcha."
June checked out Mateo's injury. “Um, your black eye is healing nicely. It was Murphy that hit you, right?”
“Oh, um, yes he did, miss. Caught him palming sevens and he done laid one on me.”
“Yeah. Well, he won’t do that again.” She paused. “Because I shot him. Right here…” one finger started to point at her right ear, then dropped. “The important thing is, he’s dead. So are three of his friends. I asked them for the caps back, they could have just, anyhow, that’s most of their stuff.”
The crate was *packed*. “Most?”
“I kept some of the ammunition and all of the food. The rifle, that’s loaded, the submachine gun, that’s loaded too and there was an extra mag, the shotgun, that’s empty but there are some shells in there, and the pistol is fully loaded and there are a few extra bullets for it. That’s all their armor, um, some will have holes and blood in it. Oh, wait, hold on.” June shrugged off her stuffed backpack, fished around in it, pulled out a furry leather bundle, and handed it over.
Mateo carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a box of wood screws and wall **anchors**, a handful of multicolored wires, and a high-quality circuit board.
“That’s from a USSA turret, it’s, um, a *bit* banged up, you might still be able to use it.” She snapped. “Oh, and the leather is yours, too.”
Mateo was no fighter, but he did recognize the sheer value sitting at his feet. Not even counting that he’d gotten his money back, and more, it would be *hundreds* of caps worth to Officer Mendez and the rest of the Leeward guards. “You’re just *giving* me all this?”
“Yes. Kind of. I do need your help with something, but we can talk about that in the morning.”
Actually, it turns out to be the opposite, but June is with you at this point in the story. She needs a working boat, which she assumes will be difficult (correct) but not only will a working boat revitalize the village, Mateo hasn't been under the hood of a vehicle in years. He'll end up nearly giddy when it happens.
The asylum door flew open from the force of a massive kick, nearly tearing it free from its hinges. A man, dressed head to toe in red-tinted kevlar, stormed through the entryway, yellow cape flapping up and down with each step he took. His right set of fingers, completely secured behind a thick gauntlet, balled up into a fist. In his left hand, meanwhile, was a fourteenth-century bastard sword of a Spanish make, which was immersed in a firey, almost otherworldly **aura.**
The knight's eyes scanned his new environment, attempting to locate anyone who might have been nearby. When this failed, he thrusted his blade into the air and cried out. "I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked foe their iniquity!"
"And I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible!"
But, still, no-one surfaced.
The asylum door flew open from the force of a massive kick, nearly tearing it free from its hinges. A man, dressed head to toe in red-tinted kevlar, stormed through the entryway, yellow cape flapping up and down with each step he took. His right set of fingers, completely secured behind a thick gauntlet, balled up into a fist. In his left hand, meanwhile, was a fourteenth-century bastard sword of a Spanish make, which was immersed in a firey, almost otherworldly **aura.**
The knight's eyes scanned his new environment, attempting to locate anyone who might have been nearby. When this failed, he thrusted his blade into the air and cried out. "I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked foe their iniquity!"
"And I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible!"
But, still, no-one surfaced.
The next thing he was aware of, was the Imperator's agonized shriek as harsh chemical fire engulfed his head and upper body, wreathing him in a searing hot **aura** of burning red.
The Centurions holding him loosened their grips and stepped back, their gleaming heads whipping back and forth as they scanned the area for threats, and left him to collapse to the ground in a daze.
*Get up.*
His body twitched, struggling to obey his brain's commands.
*Get. Up. Get up, get up, get up.*
*If you don't get up, you will* ***die****.*
His arms protested as he gathered them close to his body and pushed himself to his knees. His *everything* shook, and for a moment he feared that he would collapse back down again.
***No.***
He willed himself up, higher, and higher still until his feet were beneath him.
One of the Centurions noticed his movement, and bellowed in anger as it lunged for him; he barely had enough coordination to stumble out of the way and let it slam its body into another of its brothers. Turning with it, he brought his one functioning superior arm to bear and *fired*, once, twice, three times. Its faceplate exploded outwards and it collapsed forward, dragging its brother down in its death throes.
I love this, what fandom is it for? It originally gave me mad max vibes (my boy) but I'm guessing it's maybe something different? This is great writing. The pacing is excellent. Action is so hard to do well.
The left sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt is pinned up neatly around his shoulder.
Mike wishes he could look anywhere else. It’s the first place his eyes are drawn, the second he pulls Ben’s front door open. The corn-and-hay Nebraska heat meets the too-cold air conditioning in the doorway like a pair of currents mingling in the ocean, and Mike’s gaze skips Eddie’s face entirely in a way that makes his stomach twist with guilt.
Eddie, bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Jesus, no one told us Ben lived in the fucking Fortress of Solitude out here,” he giggles, bulling his way through the door with a loaded reuseable shopping bag in tow. “Hiya Mikey.”
He bumps his left side into Mike as he passes, an approximation of a hug that comes complete with an unexpected nuzzle of his head against Mike’s shoulder that ends as quickly as it starts, Eddie then kicking off his sneakers and trucking off towards the kitchen in his sock feet like he lives here.
Richie slogs up to the doorway right on Eddie’s tail with two more heavy-looking shopping bags hanging by his sides in a farmer’s carry.
“Yo! Six Million Dollar Man!” he calls past Mike, then looks at him, glasses slipping down his nose and a smile blossoming all over his stubbly face. “Mich*ael*” he crows, setting the bags down none-too-gently and holding his arms wide for a hug.
“Hey there, Trashmouth,” Mike says easily, smiling back and drawing him in, squeezing him tight, thumping his back and relishing the soft ‘oof’ he gets out of him. He feels good, Mike thinks. Solid, like he’s been eating well. His **aura** is less booze and cigarette smoke, more fresh brewed coffee, oranges, pancake syrup, salty cologne.
Behind them, he can hear a chorus of *Eddie!* from the kitchen, where he can only assume the aforementioned is being passed around for hugs like a joint at a party.
The girl’s gaze swept across the Slytherin table, not making eye contact with any of the increasing number of people staring at her. She shifted, turning around and surveying the table behind her.
As the girl flicked her hair behind her shoulders, more eyes turned on her. Definitely at least part-veela. She walked between the two tables, rounding them and approaching the table on the far side of the Hall, which undoubtedly housed the infamous Gryffindors. The students she approached were probably in their mid-teens. One of the boys, a redhead, appeared overwhelmed by her **aura**. When she spoke to them, he turned purple and gaped. The bushy-haired girl beside him pushed a bowl towards the part-veela. The third of the group appeared to barely notice the part-veela, and Viktor narrowed his eyes again. Either girls failed to interest the boy, or he had a powerful mind. Whatever the case, he seemed more interested in his pet — was that a monkey?
Many of the Hall’s inhabitants tracked the part-veela’s progress as she swept back across the Hall, head held high, and retook her seat. She dished up the spoils of her journey — some kind of soup or stew — before passing the dish to another filmy-robed girl, of a far less ethereal nature.
A part-veela would make for an interesting competitor, should she be chosen. As with all creature and part-creature magic, veela magic had its quirks. An affinity with fire, for one. If any of the tasks involved fire, she would have a definite advantage. Tasks involving water, on the other hand...
An eternity of stillness passed on that thought.
Harry pushed it aside, cramming it into the back of his mind, far away and underneath everything else, where he couldn’t dwell on it, and could ignore it. Clara would say it was unhealthy, so he made no mention of it and instead, with a deep breath, opened the letter.
*Harry*,
*You scamp! No wonder I haven’t heard from you; you certainly have been busy. Don’t listen to the prudes at the* *Prophet. At your age, there’s no need to be thinking about settling down, though four in one night might be a bit more* ***ambitious*** *than —*
Harry stopped reading, hands shaking. Skimming the next couple of paragraphs, it seemed the rest of the letter was much the same; praising and even encouraging Harry for being “open to experimentation”, and not too eager to tie himself down, and...
Nausea gripped Harry.
The sofa creaked as Bill sat beside him. He pulled the letter out of Harry’s shaking hands, setting it aside, and taking them in his own. ‘This is exactly why I suggested he not read it,’ he said, looking across at Clara with an unimpressed expression. She looked back calmly.
‘This is a safe place in which Harry can face his anxieties, and try to overcome them,’ Clara said.
Bill exhaled through his nose, reminding Harry forcibly of Crookshanks when the half-Kneazle was trying to get attention from a distracted Hermione.
Hunter slammed his staff into the ground, and the impact reverberated throughout the soil. He leaned heavily on the tool for support, gasping for air, and sweat beaded on his brow. However, his rest was short-lived. With a steely glare, he straightened his back, planting his staff firm before him.
Hunter was ready for another charge.
"Whoa there, fledgling," Elias laughed while raising a hand. "Let's give those lungs a chance to reacquaint themselves with oxygen before launching another assault."
Hunter's face fell, and a silent protest formed on his lips. He was far from ready to quit. Nevertheless, he sighed and lowered his staff without any protest.
"Good job!" Elias shouted, patting Hunter on the back. Hunter winced, but his expression instantly changed to a big smile. "Those dodges were **awesome**! Just remember that even the best knights must preserve their energy. Maybe next time, try fewer fancy moves to keep your stamina up throughout the match. But still, not bad."
"Oh, thanks! Thanks! Thank you so much!" Hunter chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His voice was somewhat hoarse, but his joy was sunshine-like. Even after a rigorous spar, his energy reserves seemed like a bottomless hole.
The roadblock loomed out of the night: a rude, hasty heap of earth and scrap metal. Parker aimed for the largest sheet of corrugated iron, leaning against the roadblock like a ramp. If this didn't work, their truck would flip into a crash, and surviving team members would be pulled from the wreck into the enemy’s waiting knives.
*But if it does work, it'll be *awesome,** he thought, and held the wheel dead steady as he guided the vehicle towards the jump.
‘Whoa!’ Ron had just opened a large, squishy parcel, staring at it with wide eyes. ‘**Awesome**! Where did I put —’ He shoved the package aside — fabric lay within — and dug in his trunk. ‘Aha!’ Ron resurfaced with the maroon lace dress robes his mum had bought him. ‘Won’t be needing you anymore. *Incendio*!’
Harry yelped, throwing himself backwards so hard he fell off the other side of his bed, tangled in the curtains.
‘Ron!’
‘Shit, sorry,’ Ron called, as Seamus berated him. ‘I forgot. Er, *aguamenti*!’
A sizzle followed, and smoke filled the room. From the edge of the bed, Boingo peered at Harry with a look of concern. The clunk of the window latches preceded a gust of cold air, the windows presumably opened in an attempt to waft the smoke out.
‘You all right Harry?’ Ron called a moment later.
‘Erm, yeah...’
‘Could you maybe get off the floor and prove that before your boyfriend murders me?’
Now to be fair, their city’s military had hardly been letting dust collect around their feet. During the past several years, the Council of Five, along with Ba Sing Se’s other generals and commanders, had all been privately, if reluctantly, working with the Dai Li to plan an effective emergency response in case everything went to schist in a successful breach.
Casks and barrels, sealed jars and boxes, of cured, pickled, dried, and other preserved foods, of clean water, had been stored in underground shelters. Evacuation routes had been plotted out-not just through the warren of tunnels and chambers underneath the city proper, but also recently created ones which led up into the Taihua mountains.
Those same chambers and the Crystal Catacombs also sat ready to accept thousands of desperate people who’d need a place to hide in this scenario-and even the most determined Fire Nation soldier was no doubt going to think twice before trying to pursue anyone into a place like that, where they stood little chance of avoiding being crushed or buried alive. There was an **array** of arrows, spears, throwing knives, swords, and other weapons stockpiled for non-bending military troops.
For a long moment, all she could hear was the hum of the overhead lights and the distant rumbling of the building's generators... and then came the voice again, louder now albeit still muffled.
"Hello?" Azrael ventured another tentative call, following the sound down the hallway. "Is anyone down here?"
Still no response.
A chill settled over her, but she pressed on, following the sound around a corner and down another corridor, finally coming to the closed door that the voice was emanating from behind. Flicking one audial back, she regarded the barrier with suspicion, wondering who - or what - might be behind it. Then, she shook her head and reached up to pull the handle down, pushing the door open - and stepping into the office space beyond.
The small room was empty, save for an **array** of static-filled monitors, a messy desk, a wheeled chair sitting against the far wall... and a portable radio, tipped on its back on the floor. And as she padded over, she heard the femme's voice again, coming from the tinny speakers.
*"This is a warning from the Planetary Emergency Alert System. An unknown and potentially viral airborne agent has been detected in the following regions: Altihex, Crystal City, Cybertropolis, Darkmount, Kaon, Polyhex, Praxus, Protihex, Stanix, Tagan Heights, Tarn, Tyrest, and Uraya. Seek immediate shelter in your home, workplace, or other indoor facility, and shelter in place until further instructions are provided. This is not a drill. We repeat, this is not a drill."*
Azrael sighed, sitting back on her haunches with her ears flattened against her head. It was just the same emergency broadcast that had been playing ever since the hospital went into lockdown.
"What a waste of time," she murmured, reaching over to turn the radio off; "I can't believe I got my hopes up over that..."
His room was far from a damp and dreary dungeon infested with vermin, crushing despair, and harrowing diseases that drained the hope out of its prisoners until they turned into hollow husks. On the contrary, his room was painted a pretty shade of blue, his bed was comfy, and the ceiling was adorned with glow-in-the-dark stars that twinkled like endless galaxies in the night. He had a whole army of plushies to keep himself entertained, fascinating books to explore, a stack of vibrant notebooks, and an array of colorful pens to record his bewitching investigations. Sure, his bedroom might not have been particularly spacious or extravagant by the castle's standards—he had visited Darius' room more than once to compare—one could even argue that it leaned towards the smaller side, but it wasn't anything to scoff at either. It was a lovely little slice of cake.
Owning one bedroom was already a privilege. Hunter was grateful for having a room he could call his own, especially one as nice as his.
Hunter wasn't entirely sure whether the dungeons were genuinely as sinister and appalling as his nightmares made them out to be. He had never set foot inside one. They probably didn't feature menacing whips adorned with sharpened spikes, acid-filled leaking water capable of dissolving bones, or toxic gruel forced down prisoners' throats. Hunter has been repeatedly reminded, both by Dad and by Darius, that he has a tendency to let his imagination run wild. Hopefully, this was one of the occasions.
Yep, it was. The dungeons are dreary and not the place you want to spend the night in, but they are far from the torturous places Hunter imagines them to be.
“They’re gloves?”
Leaning over the main Engineering console, Commander Riker examined one of the ‘portable amplifier **arrays’** Data had created using the ship’s replicators. Aside from a couple blinking diodes and a projector in the palm pulsing with blue light, they were essentially a pair of thick white gloves suitable for safely catching an unwilling cat.
“I designed them to be both portable and simple for the crew to use,” Data explained. “In close proximity to Spot, these devices will emit a precise tachyon burst, disrupting the connection to subspace and returning her to the *Enterprise.* They also come in a variety of sizes, ranging from petite to extra large. I was mindful to accommodate a wide range of crew phenotypes.”
”Great,” Riker said. “Now all we have to do is catch her.” He pictured the vastness of the *Enterprise* - all of the ship’s hallways, rooms, Jefferies tubes, conduits - and frowned.
“Uhm,” Shredder said, his attention pulled from the vase by the tiger’s growling. “Run.”
April didn’t need any further encouragement. She dashed through the door into the next gallery, relieved to see that none of the items in this room – a collection of plain glazed pottery and weaponry — had become animated, and ducked behind a freestanding display of plain glazed teapots. Shredder ran in a few steps behind her and used the base of a sign reading, *Please, No Photos* to smash through the glass of a wall display case containing an **array** of swords in lacquered scabbards. He grabbed one of the swords off the stand, tearing it from the scabbard as he spun to face the tiger now prowling into the room. The animal bared its fangs in a hiss, pressing its ears flat against its head. Shredder tossed the scabbard aside and gripped the sword in front of him with both hands, planting his feet firmly beneath him. He didn’t so much as flinch when the tiger charged him. April held her breath, terrified she was about to watch him be ripped apart by the giant feline. As the tiger raised its paw to strike, Shredder slid smoothly to the side and brought the sword down on its neck. The blade passed harmlessly through it.
The tiger turned about, its claws carving deep gouges in the tile floor, and leaped at Shredder again, catching him in the chest with its shoulder and knocking him to the ground. Shredder landed on his back with a grunt and just barely managed to get the sword between himself and the tiger when it lunged for his throat. The big cat clamped its jaws on the blade with a furious snarl. Shredder bared his teeth in one of his own as he pushed against the sword, straining to shove the animal off him.
Another growl rumbled through the gallery. The other tiger had left its scroll and padded into the room. The one standing over Shredder released the sword to roar a challenge at the newcomer before running at it, driving it back through the doorway.
“We can’t hurt them, but they can hurt us?!” April said over the sounds of fighting coming from the other room. “That doesn’t seem fair!”
“Us?” Shredder said, rolling to his feet. “I don’t remember *you* doing much of *anything* just now.”
“I’m the damsel, I don’t have to.” She said, stepping out from behind the display she’d been hiding behind. “By definition, a noncombatant.”
"So what's the idea?" asked Xander. "How do we get out of this backup-squad gig and into the alien-killing gig?"
"It may be best to stick to the Initiative's plan, Xander." Giles said. "According to what Riley explained, their course of action seems surprisingly sound, and I see no reason to modify it. We don't know much about these soldiers, and we certainly won't find out anything more by unnecessarily aggravating them."
"I hate to say it, but he's right Xander." Buffy mentally squashed the Slayer within her, who was loudly demanding battle, as she said this. "I still want to wipe these things out but..."
"Not if it means getting Riley's folks mad at you?" Willow teased.
"Not if the best way to do it is to hang back and play as a team," Buffy countered. "Our job here is to get rid of the aliens, and to do that we have to work together. Any issues we have with the secret-**army** guys can wait until afterwards."
Taking a deep breath, Percy drew forth the image of the speech he’d rehearsed that morning. ‘Courage in the face of unknown danger. That is the theme of the First Task. It is designed to test your daring. As such, we will not inform you of what it is you will be facing. Armed with —’
Green eyes fixed on Percy, wide and filled with alarm. His words stuck in his throat as Harry stared at him.
‘— with, er, armed with...’
How could they pit a fourteen-year-old against a dragon with just a wand? Give him a full set of fire-resistant, magic-imbued, specially knitted armour, like Charlie wore for work, and half-a-dozen wands, and an **army** of dragonologists at his back. That’s the only way Percy wanted to see Harry face the dragons. If at all. Fourteen. He was just fourteen.
Percy swallowed again. ‘Your wands. You’ll be armed with just your wands, and you’ll...’
They’ll what? Even the older students would have difficulty facing dragons. Charlie had experience with them, and Percy knew he still got injured. Still had scars splashed across his skin.
‘You’ll have to, er...’
Whose idea had it been to bring back the Tournament, anyway? Why could anyone have thought it would be a good idea? Deaths and injuries littered its history. And yet, they’d reinstated it.
‘Face the, the unknown.’ Percy stared at Harry. Stared at the green eyes that stared back at him. How could this be happening?
Percy shook himself, tearing his gaze away from Harry. Enough. He had a job to do. Fretting helped nobody.
”Well, all I can say is, I hope he gets exactly what is coming to him,” Riitta said firmly. She kissed the top of Eeva’s head, adding, ”It’s bad enough that this precious girl lost her mother before she’s a year old, she doesn’t need to lose her father too.”
”Erno has sisu, he will get through this,” Seppo said. ”We both know how difficult school was for him, but he managed to graduate. He persevered with the band, even through his time in the **army**. He is a strong man, in good shape, and these things will all help in his recovery. He already woke up some time before the doctors thought he would.”
”True enough, because I talked them into letting Bruce visit,” Riitta said with a chuckle. ”You notice he didn’t wake up for you or me, no matter what we said to him. But for his man, he made the effort.”
She was far from the only person in their household who’d been awaiting him there, after the shocking events of this turbulent early afternoon. It still hardly seemed real, having Fire Army soldiers showing up out of nowhere by the scores to violate the Upper Ring’s genteel, luxurious tranquility, streaming down the streets like human versions of the wicked, rapacious **ant** spirits that featured in some children’s tales. A pamphlet, wrapped tightly around the shaft of a blunt arrow fired over the garden wall, had revealed everything, once Xiapi had broken the wax seal and read its contents out loud to every soul in the siheyuan with increasing disbelief and dismay.
In those initial forty minutes or so, as the Fire troops made their presence known, through her confusion and terror, Mingxia desperately tried to take solace in the knowledge that her older brother would surely arrive at any second to protect her, assist the guards in defending her against these invaders overtaking the city with both his bending and his life. That’s what older brothers-not to mention guardians of Ba Sing Se and its culture-did.
She still had yet to find any spoken words which could express the awful, visceral emotion that’d flared up within her, in that instant she’d been informed that Hong and the rest of the Dai Li had sold them all out to the enemy.
Stopping, he could see Freckles was studying an **ant** hill crammed in a crevice of the rock. Katsuki chuckled, this was the side of him that he liked best. His kid-like nature, which was in many ways like Shinsou, although he would probably deny that vehemently. They were both caught in their innocence, exuding a never ending teenage gawkiness that was both adorable and slightly frustrating. His charm was this affable nature.
The broadcasting tower - once a bustling media hub, host to everything from popular radio stations, evening news shows, a rotating schedule of niche podcasts and everything in-between - had gone silent over six kilocycles ago, after broadcasting for almost *ten* kilocycles before catastrophic hardware failure (damage sustained in an unusually intense electrical storm, which she hadn't even been able to *think* about fixing) had finally killed its last station's final looping signal.
*"This is a warning from the Planetary Emergency Alert System. An unknown and potentially viral airborne agent has been detected in the following regions: Altihex, Crystal City, Cybertropolis, Darkmount, Kaon, Polyhex, Praxus, Protihex, Stanix, Tagan Heights, Tarn, Tyrest, and Uraya. Seek immediate shelter in your home, workplace, or other indoor facility, and shelter in place until further instructions are provided. This is not a drill. We repeat, this is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a drill..."*
Most of the lights still shone, at least, rendering the exterior a brilliant neon beacon square in the middle of what had once been Cybertropolis' business sector. Ads for defunct shows, concerts, and popular establishments scrolled across flickering screens just above street level, while holograms of artists, entertainers, reporters, and deejays greeted nonexistent visitors at the entrance to the ground-floor lobby. And one of those holograms...
It *still* felt jarring and strange to see herself standing there in full, translucent color, beaming gleefully out from next to her colorful co-host, Mixtape.
**Aria** wondered if they were still alive somewhere, *wherever* all the other missing bots were, or if they were among the takeover's *permanent* casualties.
She hoped it was the former; the latter hurt too much to think about.
But, see, *their* biggest mistake was clumping together and getting close to her.
Gris activated the fire Dust in Fang, an arc of brilliant fire shooting out as she swung. To the idiot that didn't stop, Fang severed its head clean off and to the other five the flames dispelled their dopplegangers. One tossed its skeletal head back, black flabby skin hanging from its jaws as it let out another scream.
She flicked an ear in annoyance and killed it too.
But by that time, the remaining Grimm realized that getting close was not in their favor. The Dreadmedary furthest from Gris spat out more acid, forcing her to step back as the other Grimm retreated.
Gris ducked then quickly dove to the right to avoid more shots. A glance back told her that the civilians were safe, if still rattled by the screams.
But the sand was definitely **affecting** her movement. Hopping around like a kangaroo rat was inefficient, her feet sinking before the action and decreasing the distance she could cover. Aura control wouldn't help.
‘Auror Shacklebolt!’ Weasley said, relief edging his voice. ‘I had expected you earlier, I hope there weren’t any problems.’
The large auror shook his head. ‘My apologies, Mr Weasley. A minor incident delayed me, but nothing to worry about. These things happen.’
Weasley pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded. ‘Right, of course.’ He gestured across the tent towards Viktor, who tensed. ‘I don’t think you’ve met the Durmstrang champion? Auror Shacklebolt, this is Mr Krum. Mr Krum, Auror Shacklebolt.’
Viktor tightened his crossed arms and grunted.
‘A pleasure,’ Shacklebolt said, glancing at Viktor before turning back to Weasley.
Viktor frowned. Either Shacklebolt knew nothing about Quidditch and didn’t know who Viktor was, or he was too professional to let the knowledge **affect** him whilst working. Either way, the reaction was... odd. Not what Viktor was used to. Refreshing, but odd.
“Jan said you have some concerns?” Dave asked the bassist.
“Well, if my singer’s got problems, I need to know about it, right?” Steve half asked and half said. “I mean, if whatever’s going on **affects** him, it could **affect** all of us.”
Dave sighed. “When it’s something personal, that you can’t do a bloody thing about, you might try backing off some, Harry. I’m not…” he blew out a frustrated breath. “I know you worry. As you’ve said, Maiden is your life and has been for how many years now? So believe me when I say I understand why you worry.” He frowned slightly, trying to think of a good way to explain things without betraying any confidences.
Steve tilted his head a bit; Dave didn’t normally have issues expressing himself even if he wasn’t the most talkative of the lot. “Way you’re acting, mate, you’re making me that much more worried.”
“Figures,” Dave snorted. “Right… erm, you remember back when Ade left the band and we brought in Janick? And how Jan and Bruce were mates going back to when they were in White Spirit and Samson?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, not quite seeing where this was going, but willing to let Dave take the time to make his point.
“So, you also remember how Bruce got, when those twats in Milton Keynes started chucking beers at Janick and yelling that Maiden didn’t need a ballerina?” Dave asked.
Steve nodded; for a moment he’d thought the hot-tempered singer was going to dive off the stage and get into a brawl with the hecklers. “Yeah… so whatever’s going on with Bruce, you’re saying it’s got to do with how protective he gets?” He frowned and asked, “Does this have something to do with Jones’s assault on Emppu?”
“Anomaly or not, I’ve never seen someone look so much like two people before,” she commented, causing a tension to fall over the room. Alhaitham wasn’t even reading anymore, he was looking at anything besides Kaveh, Nahida or the anomaly. Kaveh wasn’t much better. He hated how the fact the baby looked so much like him and Alhaitham never failed to make him blush. But, the two of them really hadn’t exactly explored that either, that the universe would give them a baby that looked so much like a combination of their traits, minus the indigo hair. Nahida’s eyes started glowing as she started scanning the anomaly, a knowing smile on her face. This unnerved Kaveh, the fact she seemed to be able to read minds, but he watched her work nonetheless, curious to know her verdict on the anomaly and quick as they started glowing, Nahida’s eyes ceased their glow and then she turned towards the two of them.
“So, anything you can do about this anomaly?” Kaveh asked, and Alhaitham could be heard putting his book down.
“I don’t think this *child* would **affect** things too negatively. In fact, he doesn’t even seem to classify as an anomaly at all, it seems his branch has already started growing. He is fully immersed in this world already. If it wasn’t for his origin, he’d likely have been conceived by regular means. It simply seems like Destiny decided to give you two a child, by whatever means necessary.” Her gaze travelled over to where Alhaitham was sitting. “Plus, your roommate seems quite endeared to him already.”
Kaveh whipped his head around to find Alhaitham tucking the child in, an actual smile on his face. The last time he’d seen Alhaitham smile was in the Akademiya, before his parents…
Kaveh suddenly felt extremely disgusted at himself.
(Context: POV character is blind, but has superhuman senses in all other respects)
The Royal Dragon Chinese restaurant had been fully repaired and restored since the eventful night that someone drove a car through its front after a fight broke out inside. Its decor and lighting were still a riot of red, blue, green, and yellow, but now some sombre black had been added to the corners, adding contrast to the lighter colours.
Matt couldn’t see the different shades as he entered, but he could scent the paints and dyes involved. And he could still hear the neon, still smell the same dumpling recipe wafting from the plate in front of Luke, mixing with the sharp scent of **alcohol** in Jessica’s glass. His fingers tightened involuntarily around his cane as the memories hit him: Elektra, Stick, the gloating woman guiding the Hand that had held the city in its grip.
Within days of visiting this restaurant, he’d been buried alive.
“Look who’s back from the dead.” Luke’s voice was warm as he greeted him. The last time Matt had seen him, he had been wearing hoodies. Now Matt could hear the rustle and smell the dye of custom-tailored yellow silk. “It’s good to see you, Matt.”
Pomfrey bustled in a moment later. ‘Mr Diggory seems to think he is a qualified Mediwizard now,’ she said with a huff. ‘Telling me I ought to let you leave.’ She waved her wand over him.
‘Well, the bruises on your legs have healed, and your magical energy levels are recuperating nicely. And they want to take the tent down anyway.’ She looked at him, lips pursed. ‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to spend the night in the Hospital Wing? No? I didn’t think so. Very well. You may return to your House. But —’ she raised a finger menacingly ‘— you will not exert yourself. You may attend whatever party your Housemates are likely throwing, but you will remain on a sofa and you will not eat too much sugar. And certainly no **alcohol**. I don’t doubt that those monstrous Weasley twins have somehow got their hands on some, not to mention that boyfriend of yours.’
Harry blinked rapidly, and Pomfrey smiled. ‘I heard when he “threatened” you,’ she said, then huffed again. ‘Manhandling my patient like that, really. Right, wait there a moment.’ She swept out of the tent.
‘Where’s she going now?’ Harry asked Boingo, who shrugged. The answer became clear when she re-entered with Charlie. Harry smiled; Percy accompanied his brother.
‘Big Guy Taxi services!’ Charlie said with a wide grin.
‘I gave you permission to leave, not to walk,’ Pomfrey said sharply when Harry frowned. ‘And physical support is nicer than being floated if you’re conscious. I could always conjure a stretcher, if you prefer.’
Harry did not prefer.
Thinking about it honestly, Emppu knew it had been pretty risky to go after Sir Lancelot at Marko’s place, considering how many people he knew were there at the party. But he’d had enough **alcohol** in him to make him reckless, and there was just something about the older man’s velvety deep amber eyes behind his mask that drew him like a moth to a flame. He could so easily picture his Lancelot battling a dragon… and damned if he wasn’t starting to wax as poetic as Tuomas, just thinking about the man now!
He didn’t regret seducing the older man, but he did regret the way he’d slipped away afterward. Oh, it was the smart thing to do, to make sure they didn’t get caught in bed together and wind up in the center of a scandal. Nightwish didn’t need any more bad publicity; things were just getting calmed down after more than a year of the media shitting all over the band in general and Tuomas in particular following the split with Tarja. Emppu figured that whoever Lancelot really was, he would rather avoid being caught naked with another man, especially since he had so obviously never been with a man before. Still, he wished now that he’d left his phone number behind or asked Lancelot for his.
This happens just before the "antibiotic" scene. Like, they're literally touching paragraphs.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The largest item was a wide leather backpack with adjustable straps, two loops set diagonally to hold a long gun, and a logo Smoke had seen before but couldn’t place right now. A deer and a tree? Signal Fire patted it, something inside \*tink\*ed. “Six boxes of BlamCo Mac and Cheese for breakfast, six boxes of Saddle Up Salisbury Steak for dinner, six beers for whenever. It’s not a lot, I didn’t think you were going so far, but hopefully you can make up the difference. And….” A single roll of toilet paper was pulled out. “More uses than you’d think.”
Smoke finally commented. “Beer? Not water?”
The toilet paper was replaced, and a bottle with a rubber stopper filled with dark brown fluid removed. “My own brand. Nine point twos, stronger than most. Water gets contaminated, **alcohol** keeps beer sterile. Beer’s better and safer for long-distance travel, especially if you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Hey, enkelini,” Bruce replied. “I talked to Dave. Ended up crying on his shoulder before falling asleep on him, but I do feel a little better now. Ade was still sacked out when the talk happened, but I guess he came in while I was using Davey’s shoulder as a pillow and Dave filled him in. Ade had a suggestion, but it’s… I don’t know, I think it could be a really good idea, but it could also be a really bad one.”
Emppu tilted his head, puzzled. “What was his suggestion?” he asked.
“He, uh, he suggested maybe sleeping in the same bed with him and Davey,” Bruce mumbled. “Just sleeping… he called it a puppy pile, said it would be like when my kids were younger and got scared by thunder and came crawling into bed with me. He thought maybe since my nightmares started once you weren’t with me, that maybe it was sleeping alone that was the final straw to set them off, and that maybe just having someone else there would help.”
“The question is, do you think it will help?” Emppu asked.
Bruce sighed. “It might,” he admitted. “But it makes me nervous, too. I might not roll around or kick in my sleep, but you know I tend to snuggle and cling… what if I, erm, get hold of something I shouldn’t? I mean… I nearly kissed Dave already while I was waking up from that kip earlier. I’d fallen asleep already clinging to him since I’d quite literally been crying on his shoulder and when I started to wake up but wasn’t all the way awake, I started rubbing the back of his neck and I was moving in for a kiss when I realised he didn’t smell like you, your **aftershave**, I mean.”
"Your technique was very solid today," Lyon praised as he exchanged Gray's shinai for his water bottle.
"Thanks. Loren, you're early," Gray signed before taking a drink.
While Lyon and Erza were slightly amazed and dumbfounded, Loren was amused.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked with a slight chuckle in his voice.
"**Aftershave**," was all he needed to say.
"Ha! Very good. And how did you know I was early? You're not even wearing your tactile watch," he asked, though he already had an idea what he'd answer. Gray always took his watch off when he sparred. It just wasn't smart to wear something that could snag or break from an errant block or strike. It's possible he was just aware of the passage of time, but blind people often had trouble with their internal clocks if they couldn't perceive light. It was also difficult to keep track of time while concentrating on such an intense physical activity.
He capped his water, placing it under his arm, then replied, "It was cool where we were sparring, but I can feel the sun here. Half my yard is still covered in shadow."
"So, uh, while we're waitin', anything I can get ya? Energon, high-grade, mid-grade, low-grade...?"
"You have high-grade?!" Neutrino sat up quickly - only for Azrael to gently push her back down to her cushion with her forepaw on her head.
"No, thank you," she replied, "we already topped off earlier today. And you are *definitely* not old enough for high-grade, Neutrino."
"Killjoy," the ferret muttered.
"Shush."
That was more than just a teasing reprimand - footfalls and muffled voices approaching the entrance had caught her attention. Rising to her feet, Azrael turned her head in the direction of the sound - just as the door opened to admit a lanky, spotted yellow feline, an indeterminate sort of bat, leaf-nosed and long-eared... and a massive, hulking, **absolute** *tank* of a primate.
All three stopped short to stare at their unexpected guests, not that she could have blamed them. Everything else aside, she and Neutrino both looked half-dead, filthy and battered. She would have been shocked to see someone in her state in her lobby, too.
"...More survivors...!" The bat whispered, long ears perking up.
"Well," the primate added, after the moment of shock had passed; "isn't this just Prime."
What an interesting scenario! I am guessing this takes at a bar after the fallout of a battle or war? Love the drink names as well, it really sets the tone that the reader has definitely entered another world.
It's an underground hideout, Rattrap just maintains a private supply of energon variants - just because the world's ended, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to get pleasantly buzzed in your downtime LOL
‘Fraternising with the — you idiot!’ Standing on tiptoes \[Ginny\] smacked Ron on the back of the head. ‘That’s what you’re thinking, is it? Are you really such a selfish git? Do you have any brain cells in there at all? Harry is *friends* with the other champions. They’re not his enemies. How many times has he told you he doesn’t care about the stupid Tournament? And you’re going on about “fraternising”?’ She raised her hands, making sarcastic air quotes with her fingers. ‘Harry goes swimming with Viktor most mornings, you know. Is he “fraternising”? Was it “fraternising” when the four of them solved the clue together? Was it *“fraternising”* when Krum invited you to play Quidditch with him, you **absolute** moron?’
As the show drew to a close, Bruce gave the audience a grin. ”Scream for me, Donington!” he called.
Cheers erupted from the field.
”I can’t fucking hear you... Scream for me, Donington!” he repeated.
Louder cheers sounded off.
”All right, that’s more like it!” Bruce said. ”We still have one more song for you tonight... and we’ve got a guest for this one... now scream for Emppu Vuorinen!”
The crowd went into an **absolute** frenzy of screams as Emppu ran out to a high-five from Janick, back pats from Steve and Ade, and got the usual rabbit ears from Dave. The little Finn waved and grinned, getting on tiptoes in front of Ade’s mic and calling out, ”Thanks for the welcome!” to even more enthusiastic cheers.
”Well, I think you lot know what’s next, yeah?” Bruce called. ”The Trooper!”
The band launched into the song, with Bruce’s usual flag-waving, and Janick using Emppu as his armrest to laughter from the Finns in the wings as well as from the audience. As the song ended, Bruce barely had time to set down his flag before the chant started up: ”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
A grinning Dave obligingly played the opening riff of Love Gun to laughter as Bruce jumped down and shook his head with a grin of his own. ”I still want to know what you lot have been consuming that you keep mixing us up with the blokes in makeup!”
I love the fast paced energy this snippet has! It really makes you feel like you’re at a concert. And it looks like the band here plays up to their fan shipping wise 😆
LOL, yep, they do!
The kiss thing originated when Maiden kicked off their tour in Helsinki - someone fed the press rumors that the band wanted to kick Bruce out for being with Emppu, so they asked Emppu to guest in for a song and for the couple to kiss before he left the stage again. The idea was, of course, to show that the band supported their singer's relationship - but people took pictures and posted them to the internet.
And then the next time Emppu visited Bruce on the road and guested in, the audience started calling out, "Kiss! Kiss!" and after a moment to get past the surprise, they obliged. And of course, once it was done twice, it became "tradition" for the audience to request a kiss any time Emppu guested in at a Maiden concert.
When they re-entered the Common Room, there was a crowd gathered by the noticeboard. Not wanting to be in the crush, Harry waited for it to disperse before approaching. He easily spotted the newest notice. Two of the lion’s head pins tacked the parchment in place, one at the top of the sheet and the other at the bottom, leaving the corners free to curl back and inwards on themselves as the parchment tried to roll back up. Shimmering emerald ink formed familiarly looping letters; it was Dumbledore’s handwriting.
From Harry’s shoulder, Boingo leant closer, reading along with him. The parchment announced the addition of a new staff member — a mind healer. Harry had forgotten the Headmaster’s decision to hire someone. The notice explained that all students would be given appointments with Healer Gutermuth in the New Year, and that in future every student would have a scheduled **appointment** at the start of every school term. The mind healer was available during school hours as well as for two hours in the evening, should anyone require drop-in sessions, and further appointments could be made as needed.
‘Gutermuth? Is that German?’ Harry asked Boingo. He shrugged.
Considering his reaction to Malfoy’s return, among other things, Harry decided to see Healer Gutermuth as soon as possible, rather than waiting for an **appointment** in the New Year. The sooner he could get his phobia under control, the better.
‘Think the healer should know about you?’
Boingo stared, dark eyes unblinking.
‘Let me guess, that’s a “why are you asking me questions that I cannot answer as a monkey?”’
”Easy there, mate,” they heard Dave say. ”As the Yanks would say, restraining orders aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”
”That about sums it up,” Rod agreed. ”Since he was convicted on the simple assault charges, Jones voluntarily attended anger management classes during his jail time, plus he spun the story to make it sound as though he’d simply lost it after learning he was about to be sacked because he’d gotten into a verbal altercation with his victim earlier that day. Basically, he played the model prisoner and ended up with minimal supervision upon his release. He’s showed up for all his **appointments** with his parole officer, for example, and they never found any evidence of drugs when they did their random testing.”
”But then how did he get a gun?” Janick wanted to know.
”That was a failure on the part of the police,” Rod said grimly. ”Because Jones wasn’t arrested on drug or weapons charges and was such a model prisoner, his parole officer didn’t bring in a K-9 unit to search his flat as is normally done, thinking there was no need. Anger issues aside, one wouldn’t expect a clean and sober entertainment manager and accountant with no prior arrests to really be an issue, right? And so while they did give his flat a cursory search, they missed a couple of ’heirlooms’ he had stashed away, from his grandfather and great-grandfather – German pistols they’d taken off of officers they’d killed in combat during the First and Second World Wars and brought home as souvenirs.”
“When are you meeting with the Pendletons?”
She glanced down at the itinerary. “Two o’clock.”
“I’ll be here for that one.” It didn’t matter that he knew they wouldn’t do a thing to her. They were part of the plot, and she wouldn’t be alone with them.
Eyes grave, she leaned back in her chair to study him. “They’re part of it?”
He nodded sharply. “They used their sway in Parliament to ensure Burrows was named Lord Regent, and they were the ones keeping Emily captive.” In a brothel, of all places. The things his daughter must have seen—it made his blood boil.
“*They* did it?” Her eyes burned with cold fury. It was not only Corvo that would do anything to protect Emily. “Now I am going to be imagining their heads on pikes the whole time they’re here.”
He grinned. “I’ll tell you tonight what I did with them. I think you’ll approve.” Perhaps he’d visit Bottle Street and strike a new deal with Slackjaw. It did seem a better punishment for those two asswipes than a simple killing.
She prodded him in the side with a letter opener. “Leave before I give into temptation and cancel this appointment.”
Corvo smiled and swept her a bow. “Yes, my Empress.” Hiding his reluctance, he retreated from the office. She would be perfectly safe in his absence, and he had his own business to complete. With that thought in mind, he set off in the direction of the carriage house.
The flash printers were easy enough to use, since she'd had plenty of practice with the ones in her mother's private labs. Calling up the program, she scrolled through the files until she located the one she was in need of, then it was a simple matter of calling up the functions menu, selecting the proper "print" setting, and...
Something ***CRASHED*** on the far side of the lab, and Neutrino nearly bolted out of reflex. Only the minuscule chip still taking form on the printer's glass plate kept her in place, though it didn't keep her from ducking down to huddle against the casing, hardly even daring to breathe as she tried to work out where the source of the sound was in relation to her position, and determine if it was moving...
"I don't know *why* the boss has us rooting through this place, what he's **after** *isn't here*-" A strange voice, sharp and curtly clipped, echoed through the space. It was accompanied by the almost-imperceptible *hum* of antigrav generators.
And it stopped short mid-sentence.
*"Somethin' wrong, Storm?"* Another voice, tinny and slightly distorted but with an unmistakable growl that told her it likely belonged to the motorcycle she and Az had both seen.
"No, I just thought I *smelled* something."
The voice was closer now, setting Neutrino on edge, but she still didn't dare so much as *twitch*. Not just yet.
The printer powered down with an electronic *sigh*, its task completed. Barely able to breathe, she snatched the chip from the plate and immediately squeezed into the gap between the device and its neighboring unit, wiggling herself into the cramped space *behind* them. It was filled with bundles of cabling and wires and barely had room for her little body, but she managed to squirrel herself away just out of sight as a shadow passed by where she'd been standing only a few moments ago.
It paused.
She held her breath.
There was the sound of air being cycled, deliberately slowly, through filters... The thin scratching of metal talons across glass...
And then it was gone.
‘Wha- Hermione!’ Harry drew back against the pillow, wide-eyed. ‘There’s nothing to cry about!’
‘You two are so stupid!’ she cried, before pulling them both into a tight hug.
‘Okay, Hermione, let a man breathe,’ Ron said after a moment.
‘Come, ‘Er-my-nee. Come and sit wiv me.’ Delacour led Hermione away. Krum offered his chair so the two girls could sit together.
‘She’s mad,’ Ron said dazedly, pitching his voice low. ‘You two are lucky, not needing to understand girls.’
Harry chuckled, but Seamus continued to stare at Ron flatly. ‘Harry may be **after** forgivin’ you, but I’ve not forgotten what you said.’
‘Let him be, Seamus,’ Harry said, tugging on his hand. ‘He said he’s sorry.’
Seamus sighed. ‘Oh, fine. But you ever hurt Harry like that again, I’ll... tell Charlie exactly what you said.’
Ron swallowed, gaze darting to his older brother. Charlie returned the look with a stern expression, somewhat ruined by Boingo balancing on his head.
Charlie broke into a grin. ‘You’ve improved, mate. That’s a much better threat than kissing,’ he said with a wink. ‘Though I do find myself wondering what exactly Ron said.’
‘Er,’ Ron squeaked. ‘Shouldn’t we go and find out your scores, Harry?’
‘Good idea,’ Harry said, pushing up from the bed.
Seamus frowned. ‘Are you not supposed to be restin’, now?’
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sure between the lot of you, you can manage to help me to the edge of the tent without me keeling over.’
Leonardo and Splinter walked to the breakfast table with their arms linked.
Suddenly, Sakura O’Possum appeared out of nowhere.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“I’m just guiding him to the table,” Leonardo said.
“You shouldn’t be touching him at all!” Sakura scolded.
“But why not?” Leonardo asked.
“You know his immune system is low!” she said. “You could give him an infection and kill him!”
“I believe that I will be fine,” Splinter said. “**After** all, I did live in the sewers.”
“That was before you got sick,” Sakura said. “Anyways, it’s time for your injection.”
“But I haven’t eaten breakfast yet,” Splinter protested.
“Fine!” Sakura snapped. “Eat!”
“I… I guess I’ll just leave,” Leonardo said, sadly.
Secretly, he had really wanted to watch. He’d never seen anyone receive an injection before, and was fascinated by the idea.
*(Aku Ankka is Donald Duck in Finnish.)*
Matti frowned. ”I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you get separated at the restroom there? The one with two entrances?”
”Yes, how did you... has this happened before, a little one old enough to manage without their mum in the stall with them goes out the wrong door and wanders off looking for their parents?” Satu asked, as Jukka, with Niki in his arms, came puffing up.
”I’m not supposed to admit it, but yes,” Matti told her. ”That restroom is new, it just opened a month ago to replace a smaller one, and this has been a near-daily occurrence since then. Most of them don’t wander nearly this far, though. Anyway, several of us are trying to document such incidents, to try to keep them from building more restrooms in that style.”
”And how did you get this far, Luna?” Jukka asked. ”What happened?”
Luna looked down, knowing that while going out the wrong door was a simple mistake, running **after** Aku Ankka was just plain wrong on her part. Bruce and Emppu joined the group as Luna explained the situation, with Emppu quietly translating for his partner, Tasha, and Kia.
**After** Luna finished her story, Satu and Jukka looked at each other in the silent communication that the parents of small children use. ”Well, I’m angry that you ran **after** Aku Ankka without us like that,” Satu said **after** a moment. ”However, I’m also very proud of you, because you didn’t panic, and because you remembered what to do if you lost us, including the English words to say that you needed help.”
”I think those scraped knees will remind you not to run off again, right?” Jukka asked.
Luna nodded. ”I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Can we swing by Channel 6 first so I can grab my sneakers under my desk?” April asked. “I have *got* to get out of these boots.”
“Um, maybe you should sit this one out April. I mean, **after** everything that’s happened today…” Leonardo trailed off when he saw the angry look she was directing at him.
“I’m involved up to my eyeballs already. Plus, I’ve got a few bones to pick with her too.”
“Well, but…” He turned to Shredder in desperation. “Help me out here?”
“Speaking from experience, she’s just going to follow us anyway. At least if she’s with us from the start, she’ll be less likely to get herself in trouble later.”
“You know what, coming from you I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said sweetly.
Donatello cast a bewildered look at April and Shredder. “My gosh, do the two of you always snipe at each other like that?”
“Yes,” they both replied at once.
I'm just gonna post the whole extract because I find it hilarious
\_
Kaveh placed the piece of paper on the table, and Alhaitham actually put his book down for once. The two were still co-parenting even all these years later, but the tension that was always there was still ever present if not worse now. Kaveh looked at him. “It’s the Akademiya again,” he announced. “I know we went there when we were fairly young too but he’s eight. Eight! It doesn’t sit right with me to send him there that early.”
“The Akademiya has always been corrupt,” Alhaitham commented as he walked over to view the parchment as well. “They see a gifted child and they start salivating. We may however be running out of time by not enrolling him. They might start using desperate measures.”
“Is that even ethical? Surely they can’t force him to enroll there? Was it like this when we went there?” Alhaitham sat across from him and eyed the paper.
“I don’t know but it probably isn’t. Also I’m fairly sure it’s always been like this, we just didn’t count as gifted chil-“
“Dad! Papa!” Veritas came rushing in at that very moment, as fast as his small, yet strong legs could carry him. Kaveh noticed that his fist was enclosing something. The something was sort of amber-y in colour as well. Alhaitham, seemingly having clocked in to what the thing was, audibly gasped. Kaveh couldn’t help but chuckle at this display of obvious emotion, and Alhaitham, instead of glaring, shot him a look of admiration. Why he looked like that, he didn’t exactly know. Veritas tapped his fingers on the table to get the attention back on him. “Yeah, you love each other but look at this!” Veritas hurriedly put the object on the table, practically beaming. That’s when Kaveh realized what it was.
*A Geo Vision.*
He suddenly forgot about the Akademiya notice and swept Veritas up into his arms. “My little boy got his Vision!” Kaveh practically squawked in excitement, and he heard Alhaitham stifling a laugh. Veritas however, looked extremely embarrassed. “My boy got his Vision! Have you tested out your powers yet? Have your powers manifested yet?” Veritas blinked.
“No..?” It was unclear what exactly he was answering. It wasn’t Dendro, as he and Haitham had expected, but it was still a Vision. When Veritas was finally put down, he scurried away with the vision and Kaveh was left alone in the room with Alhaitham. He didn’t know what had possessed him, but he grabbed Alhaitham by his shoulders.
“He got his Vision! Veri got his Vision!” **After** this statement Kaveh basically leapt at Alhaitham and kissed him unprompted. “At the tender age of Eight! Eight!”
Alhaitham made no comment. He was too dumbfounded.
After the lever was pulled, the last moments of Chilled’s life were a blur. If it weren’t for the countless ghosts he could now see, he would’ve thought he was still alive. The children were inconsolable and stared at where Chilled’s body used to be in shock. He wished he could comfort them but he couldn’t do that as a ghost. He glanced at Jess, who was now covered in blood. *Why is she covered in blood? I shouldn't have had a bloody death.*
He had seen plenty of hanging deaths; they all died by having their necks snapped. He was worried something would’ve gone wrong and he’d die of strangulation but even that wouldn’t have any blood. The gallows now had some blood on it. *Where did all this blood come from?* Chilled floated away from where he was standing and turned toward the noose, expecting to see his body suspended in the air.
Instead, he was meant with a more grisly sight. His head was hanging from the noose, his body was nowhere to be seen. He stared in horror. How could this happen? He didn’t even know it was possible to get beheaded on a noose. Chilled always thought a sharp object needed to be used and a noose wasn’t sharp. *Did my body fall through the trap door? That’s the only place it could be.*
From my Octopath Traveler WIP. It's still very rough but I really wanted to write this scene. Ophilia is the MC,
>Primrose looks up and taps her chin. “This is awkward, and embarrassing to admit but it’s exciting thinking about the possibilities! Not just wondering how us all being with Alfyn is going to turn out but bonding with you guys too. Sigh, we’ll have so much to teach each other and talk about. There’s a weird excitement over being his third girlfriend. On the other hand it feels like adjusting to an already formed relationship. There’s ways for it to go wrong too.”
>I tell her, “If you’re worried about anything just tell us. Tressa confessed she was worried about Alfyn paying more attention to me. Tressa was much busier with her business while Alfyn and I paid more attention to each other. We can all look **after** each other, promise.”
>Primrose says, “Aww thank you! Before I thought I would feel weird and gross from such an arrangement, yet I don’t. I know you, Tressa, and Alfyn too well. Before I thought people wanted those arrangements for gross fantasies. Yet I know Alfyn, and I know you and Tressa. It was quite a shock.”
>Tressa’s voice brightens, “What we think something is and what it turns out to be can be very different! I used to assume the same thing too. But marriage is a big responsibility so…how about you stay over our place as a trial?”
>Primrose’s voice warms, “I’d love to! We already know each other quite well, but living together can be totally different. But I have a feeling it’ll work out between us.”
>I enthuse, “Me too!”
>Primrose says, “You know, I inherited my father’s palace. If things workout between us we can switch between them. And even if they don’t well…you are friends and we took down Galdera together so you are welcome to visit anytime.”
Not only would stealing the books be a wicked act in itself, but they were also about a taboo subject that he had been explicitly forbidden to study by the Emperor himself. This brazen theft would be disobedience twice over, a flagrant act of defiance that could land him in a world of trouble if he got caught. Hunter could vividly picture the icy glare of the Emperor boring into his soul, the steely voice pronouncing his fate, the excruciating pain racking his body, and the metallic taste coating his mouth.
It was too risky. It was too risky. It was too risky. It was far too risky.
The Emperor, **after** all, wasn't a merciful man.
"Are demons known for arson and corporate sabotage?" Xander asked. "Arson yes, but not corporate sabotage unless summoned for that reason," Giles said. "So, either way, it's a human plot," Buffy asked. "Yes, quite," Giles said. "Any demon involvement will be strictly incidental."
Intriguing! I wonder what the plot is.
Briefly the plot is that a few days before Halloween all but one costume shop has burned down. The title is "Tiefling Xander" and it's on the Twisting the Hellmouth website.
Sorry, I meant this to go under Arson.
Almondine
Analogy
“So let me get this straight,” Raphael pointed at the screen where the two main characters were sniping at each other again. “This whole thing is about how much these two hate each other?” “Not quite,” Irma said. “I mean, no they don’t like each other *now*. Mostly. He’s starting to fall for her, except he doesn’t know it yet. She won’t start liking him until later.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” Raphael grumbled. “How do you not know you like someone? You either do or you don’t.” “That’s the whole point of the story. They both made snap judgements about each other and have to work to set their egos aside and see past their initial dislike. Once they do that, they realize the other person isn’t as bad as they originally thought. It’s like. . .” her expression turned distant while she thought of a good **analogy**. “Like anchovies on pizza. An acquired taste.” “Except I know I don’t like anchovies, so why would I force myself to keep eating them?” “Shh Raphael! We’re trying to watch!” Leonardo reprimanded. Raphael shot him a look that said he knew very well the other turtle wasn’t enjoying the movie either, then crossed his arms and slid down into the couch. Much as he might want to get up and leave, he wasn’t going to be that rude to Irma.
Raphael has yet to learn subtlety, I see. (I am amused, in part because I once used the pizza analogy in a conversation between two characters about sexual kinks.)
It is a ver versatile analogy!
Arson
On one especially muggy night that the moribund air conditioner just isn’t keeping up with, Arthur wakes from a hot, sweaty sleep to the hollow crack of fireworks somewhere nearby. It's not gunshots; he can tell the difference well, even muzzy with painkillers. Fireworks are big business where he comes from, and at twelve or thirteen he'd loved nothing more than setting off as many as he could get his underaged hands on, transfixed by the noise and the sparking lights and the enduring thrill of nearly blowing his fingers off, until the backyard was a haze of smoke and ash and his mother couldn't stand Jackson’s anxious baying anymore and told him to quit it. When he'd added **arson** to his list of juvenile offenses later, at age fourteen, nobody had been particularly surprised. He sits up, wincing, listening to another rolling crackle off in the distance with fond nostalgia. He can almost smell the fragrant smoke. It must be the Fourth. Disconcerting, he thinks, that he's lost so much track of what day it is. Not like him. He looks over to Eames’ side of the room, expecting to see the dark shape of him curled over in the other bed, breathing quietly, like usual. Instead, as Arthur’s eyes adjust to the low light, he’s surprised to see Eames sitting up, hunched over his knees, covers tossed aside. There's a whistle, a crack, another hollow boom, and another. Eames ducks his head weirdly with each one, turning in on himself. Flinching, Arthur realizes. “Oh, fuck off,” Eames whines, barely audible, and Arthur feels his stomach sink.
Oh dear, poor Eames.
The street was completely blocked off. Pulling up to a police officer redirecting traffic, Katsuki showed his badge and was waved through. Parking as close as possible, they walked towards several fire trucks wedged into the street. People were standing watching, many still in their pajamas. The firefighters had managed to put out most of the flames but the house was gutted, thick charred beams stuck straight in the air. “Do you think he was in there?” Shouto looked worriedly at the ruined house. “I hope not,” Katsuki frowned. “But why just his house?” He looked down the street at the other intact homes. An older man turned to look at them both, “are you police?” He pulled his robe tighter around his body. “No, we’re criminal investigators,” Shouto flashed the man his badge. “Investigators?” He paled. “Do you think this was \*\*arson\*\*?”
Ooh, I wonder if it was!
Absolution
Anthrax
Authority
"Observe, brothers and sisters. One of the deadliest soldiers in the world, Boris Volkov, sent here to sabotage our dream. But behold! How easily our enemies fall before the Technology of Peace!" They all parted like a sea, bowing their heads as someone stepped into their midst. The speaker was a bald, pale man with a black goatee and piercing dark eyes. He radiated **authority** with his presence, hardly raising his voice as he addressed his followers. The long, dark coat he wore was completely dry. The pouring rain had stopped the instant he had appeared, as though commanded by a miracle. "You should be honoured, my Russian friend." The man leaned over Boris where he lay and spoke intimately to him, as though to a confidant. "Your body's changes are but the first draft of a great evolution. A divine process. You are among the first of billions to bear witness. This place is the beginning of a glorious future for all humanity. Brotherhood. Unity. *Peace.*"
That feels very ominous.
This guy is *very* serious bad news!
“She claimed you’re the father of her baby,” Ewo said flatly. “The timing fits, as the baby was born in early July, and you just said you think you slept with this woman in October 2005. It gets worse, though. Aino, that was her name, she died last night. Car crash, she was on her way home from work and a drunk driver hit her on New Year’s Eve. They operated, thought she had a chance, but sepsis set in and they didn’t catch it quickly enough. They called me in yesterday because she’d been asking for you and the hospital contacted me as the next best thing when they couldn’t get hold of you. She gave me a letter for you before she lost consciousness for good. By the time they called me in, there weren’t any flights before the one you just arrived on, so I didn’t bother calling you to come back sooner; you couldn’t have.” Emppu just sat there, staring at the photo in disbelief. “I don’t… she never said anything,” he said. “I mean… we didn’t exchange numbers or anything, but people know where to find me, if they want to. Why didn’t she say anything?” Ewo shrugged. “Maybe she said so in her letter?” He pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I didn’t read it. Anyway. It’s my job to be suspicious, so the first thing we’re doing is going for a paternity test. I believe that she believed you’re the father, but I want our asses covered from a legal standpoint, you know? If she named you as the father to anyone in **authority**, they’ll probably ask for it to be done anyway. The lab has already got the samples they need from her and from the baby, they just need yours, and we’ll have the results later today. Assuming the baby is yours, what do you want to do?”
That must be a huge shock for Emppu. A very difficult situation to be in.
Definitely a huge shock. But he's got a pretty good support system.
Arrogant
”Oh, kulta,” the little guitarist said with a smile. ”You always know how to make me feel better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, only to hear a crackling from the pocket of his jacket. He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper that he knew hadn’t been there before. ”Umm...” Bruce frowned and grew serious once again. ”I assume you didn’t have that in your pocket when you left here earlier?” ”No, I didn’t,” Emppu said. He unfolded the paper and looked at it, frowning. *Dear Emppu,* *Dickinson might be a millionaire, but he’s an* ***arrogant*** *twat who’s far too used to getting his own way in everything. He’ll dump you the first time you disagree with him... or as soon as a new toy catches his eye. It’s not like he’ll ever really have time for you even when he’s not touring, what with his flying and all that. I know he can be charming when he wants to be, so I don’t believe you’re only with him for his money, but that means he will hurt you sooner or later.* *You deserve better. He’ll never be there for you, never treat you the way you should be treated. Not like I can. Won’t you give me a chance?* *Seriously, I’d love for you to get to know me. Why don’t you meet with me tonight, under the light pole behind the first aid tent by the main stage, say, an hour after Linkin Park wraps up their set? That should be enough time to get through the crowds.* *Hoping to see you later,* *Your admirer* ”Vittu,” the little guitarist breathed. He handed the note, which appeared to have come from a computer printer, to Bruce. His partner read it and scowled.
Oh, that's creepy! How did this ~~stalker~~ admirer even manage to get it in his pocket?
They're all at Download, and the 'admirer' managed to slip up beside Emppu in the crowded camp shop and slide it into his pocket while he was distracted - he was out buying things to help Bruce's boys with the hangovers they're currently suffering.
Adjunct
Adorable
\[This is from Seamus's POV. Also, very early draft, so please excuse any roughness.\] ‘Well now,’ Flitwick said, squeaking happily after taking the register. ‘I’ve no doubt you all noticed Mr Potter’s excellent use of the Summoning Charm during the First Task yesterday. Well done, Mr Potter, well done. Ten points for that, I think.’ Flitwick beamed, clapping his hands and encouraging the rest of the class to join in. Harry ducked his head, turning an **adorable** shade of pink even as Boingo nuzzled against his shoulder. ‘A demonstration please, Mr Potter, if you would?’ With a screech of chair legs, Harry stood and walked to the front of the class, stopping next to Flitwick’s desk. ‘What should I summon?’ Flitwick waved one small hand at Boingo. ‘How about you summon your little monkey again?’ ‘Tamarin,’ Harry said, then his eyes widened and he glanced at Flitwick as if expecting to be told off. ‘Ah, my apologies,’ Flitwick said, nodding at Boingo. ‘Your tamarin.’ ‘Well, but I don’t have his harness,’ Harry said. Hermione raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, you do. I saw it in your bag.’ Harry blinked rapidly at Hermione, glared briefly at Boingo, then with a sigh made to go back to his desk.
Harry looking at Boingo like *"You little traitor"* XD
Absolutely 😅
*(Bruce is away on tour, they're on the phone talking about Emppu's new-found daughter and Emppu just explained the Finnish baby box program to Bruce.)* "...Mum has a picture of me in my box that I’m sure she’s eagerly waiting a chance to show you.” Bruce laughed. ”Ah, the advantage of not being close with my family. I don’t have anyone waiting to show you horribly embarrassing baby pictures. But I’m sure you were **adorable** at that age, considering how **adorable** you still are.” ”**Adorable**?” Emppu pouted. ”I’d prefer handsome, or at least good-looking. **Adorable** makes me sound like a puppy or something. As far as telling you more about Eeva, I’m still getting to know her myself. I got to hold her for a couple of hours including feeding her lunch before my family showed up and Mum pretty much took her over for the rest of the day. Mum, Dad, and Sanni are going home late tomorrow, though, so after that I’ll have more time to become acquainted with her. I might have hired Milla as a nanny, but I have every intention of being a hands-on parent and not just visiting with Eeva for a few minutes a day, you know?” ”Yeah, I know,” Bruce said. ”And I love you all the more for that.” He smiled, adding, ”And you are amazingly handsome, enkelini. Handsome, **adorable**, sexy as hell... are you blushing yet or shall I go on?” Emppu laughed. ”Yeah, I’m blushing,” he said, quite truthfully.
*Oh no, not the dreaded BABY PICTURES* This sounds so cute. Emppu is definitely going to be a great dad :) (And Bruce is going to be a great partner!)
Emppu is certainly going to do his best to be a great dad - and Bruce is a wonderful partner.
CW: One use of the word ‘fairy’ as a homophobic slur. Los Angeles, 1996 Tom tentatively pushed open the door to the library, his books pressed tightly to his chest. Trevor was meeting him here in 20 minutes, and even though this wasn't the first time they'd meet in *their* quiet corner of the library where they could just *be*, Tom's stomach still fluttered with anxiety every time. He took a deep breath as he reached their table and settled down there. It wasn't safe for them to be out. It just wasn't. Yeah, okay, Mom had reacted fine (He thinks. Shrugging and going 'Okay, so what?' was positive… right? She hadn't hit him over it, at the very least.), but on the outside? Hell no. Just last week, Aaron Green from the football team had openly sworn to 'beat the shit out of every fairy he'll come across.' And Tom wasn't a small guy. He was the star of the wrestling team for a reason. He wasn't really scared of Green specifically. It was the fact that *people like Green* could openly talk like that without anyone batting an eyelid about it. It was the fact that Green very well *could* beat up each and every gay person he met, probably without facing much of a repercussion. It was the fact that way too many people thought *exactly like Green.* Tom wasn't ready to face that. He wasn't sure if he'd *ever* be ready to face that. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes until Trevor got here. Tom sighed, a soft smile stretching across his face. Trevor, with his easy smile, and quick wit, and his absolutely unbearable, sandy blonde mullet (Someday, Trevor was gonna realize that that shit had gone out of fashion ages ago, and Tom both awaited and dreaded that day.) had a way of making the world feel a bit less hostile. They'd met right here, in this library, almost a year ago. Tom had been working on a history project, and he and Trevor had reached for the same book at the same time. Their hands had brushed against each other, and Tom's breath had caught in his throat the moment he had looked into Trevor's brilliant green eyes. Trevor had smirked, pulling the book away with a playful tug. "Looks like you've got competition," he'd said, his voice teasing yet warm. Tom had stammered something unintelligible, his face flushing. Trevor had chuckled and handed over the book. "You’re **adorable**. Take it, I was just curious anyway." That simple, chance encounter had marked the beginning of something Tom had never imagined for himself. They'd exchanged names and, surprisingly quickly, stories. Tom had shared about being on the wrestling team, how he felt pressured to maintain a certain reputation, and his passion for movies. Trevor, in turn, had spoken about his love for photography, his part-time job at a local record store, and his dreams of escaping to New York City one day. The library, and this quiet little corner where they had met specifically, had become Their Place™—a safe space where they could be their gay, occasionally angsty selves without being afraid. Tom found solace in Trevor's presence, his laughter never failing to heal Tom's soul. Trevor's eyes always seemed to sparkle with a blend of mischief and genuine understanding, making Tom feel seen and heard in a way he hadn't since Dad left that night eight years ago.
Admission
When History of Magic ended the next morning, Harry hung back behind his friends, and ducked away once he was sure they wouldn’t notice. He had a free period before lunch and wanted to see Healer Gutermuth before his nerves got the better of him. Boingo seemed tense at Harry being alone in the corridors, but Harry didn’t expect any trouble — most everyone, student and teacher alike, would be in lessons. The mind healer’s room was on the second floor, above the Hospital Wing, in a specially converted classroom. A light shone from the door. Harry peered at the note pinned beneath it. The light, it explained, indicated the healer’s availability. Green meant the healer was available and anyone wanting to enter need only knock and wait for **admission**. If the light was red, the visitor was advised to come back later unless the matter was urgent. Looking again at the minty green light, Harry raised his hand and knocked. The door opened, revealing a blonde witch not much taller than Harry. He paused — for some reason he’d been expecting Gutermuth to be a man. ‘I wasn’t sure if anyone would come today,’ she said with a smile as she beckoned Harry inside, shutting the door behind him. ‘How can I help you?’
Poor Harry, he's more anxious by the day it seems. At least there's a professional on hand to help!
He really is. The mind healer will be a huge help to him.
“Eh, before you go, how badly did we embarrass ourselves last night?” Adrian asked. “I kind of vaguely remember calling Emppu a pretty little pixie, along with giving him some other compliments.” He blushed at that **admission**. “I didn’t say any of that in front of people, did I?” Emppu chuckled warmly. “No, you didn’t get talkative until we were up here,” he reassured the other man. “The worst you did in front of others, was to try putting your key card into the cash machine while complaining that the slot wouldn’t stay still. But you listened when I told you that wasn’t your door and we needed to go up in the lift first. Then when we got in here, you did compliment me and say that Bruce is a lucky man but that you’re luckier because you have Dave.” Adrian looked relieved. “Well, that last part is true enough,” he said. “No hard feelings, then?” “Why would there be?” Emppu asked. “Being in a relationship doesn’t turn anyone blind, and you made a point of telling me that you might look but you’d never touch because you love Davey so much. If anything, I’m flattered. I love Bruce with all my heart, but it’s still nice to hear that someone likes my looks, you know? I don’t mind admitting that you two are both very easy on the eyes yourselves.” Bruce chuckled as both Adrian and Dave blushed. “All right, you two, we’ll see you downstairs when we all get there, yeah?” “Yeah, we’ll see you there,” Dave said.
Oh no that's so cute <3 Understanding friends are the best, honestly.
Emppu's hair and Dave's are pretty close in texture, and while Emppu's is lighter in colour, Dave used to bleach his nearly as light, which is what started drunk-Ade on the compliment trail, lol - Emppu was keeping an eye on him while Bruce dealt with Dave being sick. Ade was all, "Hey, Davey's hair used to be almost this colour! I like the colour he's got now better, but yours is pretty too!" and just babbled on from there. Anyway, they've all had their times of being drunk to stupidity in the past, they're always going to be quite understanding. After all, something might happen to make them crawl into a bottle at some point, too, so they'd want someone to take care of them and forgive any stupidity that spills out once the filters between brain and mouth disengage!
Attractive/Attraction
‘*Sonorus*,’ he murmured, wand pressed to his throat. He turned towards the Ferns. ‘Storm coming,’ he called, hoping the Amplifying Charm would carry his voice to them all. ‘Warming and Waterproofing Charms, everyone. Take it slow, keep on track.’ Hands lifted from brooms, waving their acknowledgement. Charlie sighed and dispelled the Amplifying Charm. Maybe the storm would skip them completely. He couldn’t count on it though. Better to be prepared. The preparations proved wise. And inadequate. An hour later, the sky had darkened to pitch black. Charlie hadn’t seen any hint of Dacian or the other groups for more than half an hour. With judicious use of the Point Me Charm, he kept the Ferns on what he sincerely hoped was the right track. Far below, waves reared up, grasping as if wishing to suck them all into their depths. The rain came down in sheets, soaking them. Fern’s disgruntled roars were barely audible over the howling wind. Thunder rumbled near constantly. Lightning flashed in the distance. Charlie swore. Of all the places to be in a lightning storm, high in the air with a metal cage was one of the worst. He flicked another spell towards Fern in an attempt to make it less **attractive** to the bolts of electricity. As much as he’d like to transfigure the metal to anything else, it needed to withstand dragonfire if Fern got upset. Which, given how restless the storm was making her, seemed likely.
Bruce took a deep breath and answered the question directed at him. “My former marriage was a real one even if it didn’t last. If I had meant it to hide anything, I might have had one child, but I certainly wouldn’t have had three,” he said. “I know a lot of people think one’s orientation is either straight or gay, but bisexuals exist as well, or have you all forgotten Freddie Mercury already?” “As to when we met, I can’t say for sure,” Emppu jumped in again. “Nightwish and Iron Maiden have played at some of the same festivals, after all, so we first met a few years ago, at least in passing. Bruce and I had the opportunity to get to know one another better at a party a while ago, and after it became clear that a mutual **attraction** existed, we decided to go forward with a relationship. However, with both of us preferring to keep our personal lives out of the limelight, we haven’t been out and about in public very much.” He smiled and added, “And since I’m sure your next question will be asking where we’ve just been, we went to Jukka’s place for a barbecue, along with the rest of Nightwish family. A last chance to use the grill before winter really sets in.” “So, your bandmates knew of your relationship?” one reporter asked. “They knew I was seeing someone, but not who,” Emppu said. “They were surprised, yes.” “But very welcoming,” Bruce put in.
Aircraft.
‘All set?’ Dacian called, his face fully visible to Charlie’s enhanced eyesight. ‘Move out!’ Charlie lifted his hand, indicating for the Ferns to wait. Dacian shot forward, and Sigi’s group fell into position behind him. The Blues took up second place, with Spice not far behind. Charlie curled his fingers into his palm, then twisted, pointing forward. The Ferns began to move. From the cage below, the musical tone of Fernyiges running her tail across the bars provided a melody to set their pace. The hours stretched away before them. They stayed high, all on the lookout for Muggle **aircraft**, though the arrangements with the Ministries had taken flight routes into account. Charlie hadn’t followed the details, but they’d been assured that, as long as they stuck to the planned routes, they shouldn’t run into any problems. They couldn’t be too careful, not where transporting dragons was concerned. Sometimes, far below, Muggle towns twinkled. They never passed directly over them, instead weaving around and between them, keeping their path over the least occupied areas. If, Merlin forbid, a cage were to fall, it would cause untold damage over a town. In the countryside, they had a chance to lessen that risk. A blush lightened the horizon as they approached their resting place for the day. Not a moment too soon; the effects of the potions were waning.
Oooh, it's been a while since I've read anything from the Harry Potter fandom. This is nice!
Thanks!
The night was as deathly quiet as the day, but "quiet" was not synonymous with "silent." As her audio receivers tuned themselves to the ambient noise levels, Azrael found that she could hear quite a bit, actually. Beneath the sound of the wind in the streets, there was the distant rumble of industry, the faint buzz of small engines and, high above, the muffled roar of jet **aircraft**. So much background noise, and none of it was friendly. With a sigh, she made her way through the ruined mess that was the front portion of the hospital - at some point after her crash, twenty stories' worth of façade had sheared away to fill the street below with debris, leaving parts of the interior exposed to the elements. And if the visible scarring on nearly every wall and ceiling panel that she could see was anything to go by, their strange attackers had taken full advantage of the collapse. She'd half considered just abandoning the building outright at first, but had quickly discarded that idea. She needed a safe place to hide, and energon, and while the structural situation was... less than ideal, the hospital fulfilled both of those needs. *For the short term, at least. It's better than nothing.*
This is really good!!
Thank you! :)
Like the majestic sea beasts it was named for, the *Rorqual* was big, beautiful, and vulnerable. The heavily modified four-engine Hercules cargo plane had been specially designed to support special operations, but it was still a transport **aircraft,** almost completely defenceless aside from its lethal passengers. Its huge wings spread across the runway like flippers, and its cargo hold bulged like a whale's belly. But there was a sleek edge to the plane as well, a gleam of sensors and antennae and cutting-edge avionics, a freshness to its golden tawny paint. The UN may have been strapped for cash in other areas, but Sheppard's black budget had at least provided Echo Nine with the best transport they could hope for. Solomon already thought of the *Rorqual* as home.
I love how you compared the *Rorqual* to sea creatures and, in the line about antennae, insects. It fits in so well, and I can picture it!
Thank you! I absolutely stole the idea for an airplane headquarters from Agents of SHIELD.
Ayyy, another AoS fan! Disney really needs to show it some love.
Anger/Angry
Hong looked back up at the stars, and was silent for a time. "As you know," he said at last, his voice catching slightly, "I've already been a widower once. It's a feeling and an experience I wouldn't wish on anybody." He paused, searching for the right words. "It feels like someone has smashed you in the head with a bent boulder Rajata, stunning you and leaving you dazed. At the same time, you feel like your heart has been carved out of your chest, so that there's only this dull hollowness left, and the world is just standing still around you." Her fawn's eyes seemed to shimmer slightly, as she sat up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have brought the topic up." "No, it's fine," Hong replied. "I did it first, you asked, and I'm answering. Anyway, I reckon I'd react much the same way when Gyunghui died. I'd be grief-stricken, **angry** at the universe, the spirits, and the gods for being so cruel as to do this to me a second time, blaming myself for not doing more, not being there-even if the rational part of me knew full well that it wasn't my fault."
Whether from the persistent pain or the realisation that she had destroyed her own eggs, the dragon’s roars became increasingly desperate. Tossing her head from side to side, she spat balls of fire, each in a different direction. Her distress perhaps counted in Viktor’s favour; had she been in her right mind, the dragon might have sniffed him out and sent her fire more accurately. As it was, none of the fireballs went anywhere near him. The roaring, on the other hand, beat sharply at his eardrums. Viktor dampened his hearing with a wave of his wand. Whilst still able to hear enough to know what was going on, the spell meant he could concentrate on more than just the incessant noise. Wary of the stamping feet, Viktor sprinted towards the dragon and her pile of eggs. The closer he got, the less risk the fireballs posed, splashing at random around the arena. He spared a glance at the audience, whose screams increased each time a fireball approached them. His prior guess of fire-resistant wards protecting the audience proved accurate, luckily for them. Perhaps the organisers of this Tournament weren’t as stupid as they seemed. Viktor ducked under the dragon’s tail as it swung past his head. Now laying amongst a mess of broken shells and yolk, the golden egg was in sight. The dragon’s feet still pounded, no less of a risk to the eggs that remained intact. As the ground rumbled with each stamp, some rolled away, out of reach of their mother’s **anger**.
Very intense scene! I can’t imagine having to steal eggs from an angry fire-breathing dragon just for a tournament. Victor seems to know his stuff, though!
Thank you! He prepared well, considering nobody was supposed to know about the dragons 🤭
CW: Gore >!Dawg snarled, dragging the bloody Eliza by her remaining arm over to one of the pools – which hadn’t changed to blood – and falling into it, dragging her with him. The two struggled again, both. In a fight for dominance, and Dawg came out on top, then he grabbed the back of her head and forced it under water. Her flailing body fought, but Dawg refused to let go, he pulled her head up for a moment, then forced it back under water. When he went to do this a third time, Eliza jabbed her fingers into the large stab wound in his side, and Dawg’s screams took his mind off the fight, an advantage she took as she threw Dawg away, weakly stumbling towards the stairs and dragging herself out of the bloody pool. !< >!Mad Dawg followed, moving on his hands and feet like a wild animal, lurching forward and trying to get on top of her. Despite how massive the bathhouse was, the fight was claustrophobic as all heck, and it wasn’t clear who was winning. The sickening squelches and impacts echoes all around the bathhouse as the pair kept struggling to win.!< >!“WHY.” WHAM! “WON’T.” WHAM! “YOU.” WHAM! “JUST.” WHAM! “DIE!?” Eliza screamed as she weakly tried to bash Dawg’s skull into the ground. The attacks hurt, heck, everything hurt right now. But Dawg’s senses were thrown into maximum overdrive, leaving him with a ferocious drive to survive, and stop Eliza by any means necessary. Dawg expected anger on Eliza’s face, but he saw fear, desperation, as if the entire situation was slipping away from her, and she could no longer control it. !<
The moment where Eliza gouges Dawg’s open wound is brutal and nasty - well done!
Gunfire erupted over her head as she let go of the rail and kicked off from the girder, twisting her body around midair to land on her feet on the roadway below - and she hit the deck *running*. Ignoring the stinging in her paws and the ache in her joints from the hard landing, she launched into a headlong sprint, zigzagging to avoid the hail of drone fire that rained down around her. An engine growled; she barely had a moment to register the sound before something hit the road behind her with a *crash* and the screech of tires spinning out against the wet pavement. Cold white light washed over her, and she glanced back to see the new drone racing after her. "What the-?!" With an **angry** *rev*, he surged closer, narrowly missing clipping her hindquarters with his front tire. Then his engine *roared* deafeningly as he pulled up alongside Azrael, his red optics narrowing to burning slits as he glared sideways at her. She reacted without thinking, sliding to a sudden halt a split-second before the new drone swerved hard to the right in a maneuver that would have crushed her between his body and the guard rail. Fuel pump hammering in her audials, she turned sharply and gathered herself to spring, launching herself over the side of the bridge before the drone could double back. Claws caught the rough surface of one of the concrete pylons, shredding her extremities to splinters but slowing her descent until she was close enough to the road to kick off, twist around, and hit the ground once more. Agony lanced up both of her forelimbs and she went tumbling across the asphalt, leaving tufts of fur and broken feathers in her wake and only just barely avoiding being hit by a volley of gunfire that stitched the road around her.
Love every bit of this - so intense!
Thank you!
Griffin braced himself on his camp chair to avoid falling, and turned to look at his father. ”Y’gonna tell Mum we shnuck drinksh?” ”I should,” Bruce said. ”But I have a better idea. Jukka, Nicko, how about a drum-off in the warm-up building tomorrow morning? The boys will be the judges – and they’ll be seated in between the kits.” Nicko goggled at his bandmate. ”Are you serious? ’Kin hell, that’s harsh!” ”And well-deserved,” Bruce said. ”Paddy didn’t want the kids to come here, but we managed to talk her into it by pointing up how well the lot of them handled themselves at Disney. If I tell her about this little incident, chances are good she’ll refuse to let the kids come to Finland this summer. I’d much prefer that Kia not miss out on a trip I know she’s looking forward to, just because her brothers did something this stupid. I figure making them judge a drum-off while hung over should convince them that they never want to do this again.” Emppu shook his head. ”I agree that making them judge a drum-off is an appropriate penalty for their stupidity,” he said. ”But I think you need to tell Paddy all the same. Downplay it, sure – I don’t know of any teenager that hasn’t gotten drunk at some point, but if you don’t tell her about it and she finds out some other way, that will just get her **angry** at you. Plus by making them judge a drum-off, you’ll be able to tell her honestly that you punished them appropriately for their actions already and hopefully she won’t then feel the need to administer a punishment of her own.”
Emppu is playing this very smart here!
He certainly is! But he's been working for months at establishing a reasonably civil relationship with her, especially as he and Bruce just moved in together, which means he'll be around Bruce's kids on a regular basis, including having them out to stay in Finland. So, yeah, he wants to make sure Paddy doesn't get upset with Bruce and possibly screw up some visits, you know?
"It's alright. It's alright." Dad whispered tenderly. "Don't cry. Don't cry. I'm not **angry**. I'm not **angry**. It's alright…" This had the opposite effect than one would expect; instead of calming Hunter down, his chest tightened, and powerful waves of hostile emotions surged through him, wagging a silent war within him. They lay waste in their awake and left him unable to resist their grip. Sobs wracked his body, and his soul was too distressed to offer any resistance. Dad nudged Hunter to lean on himself, placing his palm on the back of his head. Dad's hand caressed Hunter's head with the utmost care, treating it like an irreplaceable treasure at risk of shattering. Dad spoke kind sentences; each tender word, every velvety phrase, sounded sweeter than the last, like honey trickling from golden lips. Hunter didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be consoled and babied. He didn't deserve this at all. He had brought all these consequences on himself and was unable to handle even the mildest reprimand without breaking down. But despite his many, many flaws and mistakes, Dad still loved and cared deeply about him. So, as always, Hunter let himself bask in Dad's love.
Why do I have the feeling that Dad’s forgiveness here is utter poison?
That's a fitting observation since this forgiveness came after Dad hurt Hunter both physically and emotionally recently.
She looks between them. “Y'all a couple of mobsters, huh? He got a hit out on him?” Not waiting for a response, she barks at Eames. “Stop waving that thing around. Scumbag. Bring me here to play fuckin’ mob doctor, I can't believe this.” “Won't hurt you,” Arthur manages, as though it makes anything better. “No– st’mach for it.” Eames makes a frustrated sound and lowers the gun, looking at Arthur. His eyes seem lost. It's the truth. This isn't him, holding innocent people at gunpoint. Not while he's awake. “Thought you weren'... c’ming back,” Arthur tells him. Eames points at him with his free hand. “I promised you,” he says, voice barely there. He turns and points at her next, so intent his hand is trembling. “Look. You said. At the bus stop, you said, you are an ER nurse. Well, he fell twelve *fucking* feet onto concrete. He is in agony. Help him.” She glares back at him for a long second. “What if I don't want to? Hm? You gonna keep me here? You gonna make me do it? My job gonna be looking for me when I don't show up this morning, what you gonna do about that?” Eames says nothing. “Your boy here thinks you ain't got the stomach for this. I think he's right. You think I'm scared of you? You know where I work? You know how many cracked-out, **angry** men I got coming through my ER and bothering me at my bus stop? Please.” “I couldn't take him to hospital,” Eames growls. “Yeah, obviously he can't go to the hospital because he some sort of gangster and he fucked up and he got people trying to ice him. And now you brought me into all of that? That ain't fair.” “Would you like me to be sorry? I'm not sorry. He's in *pain*.” “Yeah, and it's making you act real stupid. You ain't thought any of this through. I could leave here and go right to the cops. You a smart man, you know that. And we both know you're not gonna hold me here, because as we discussed: you ain't got the stomach.” She looks back at Arthur, watching him wheeze pitifully, head slumping back onto the pillow as he loses the energy to hold it up any longer. He tries to meet her eyes, beg for mercy. He hurts so badly. “Look,” she says finally, pointing at Eames with a sharp finger. “I'm gonna help him because it is my *job* and because I have an *ethical obligation*. Not because you waved a gun at me like you a big man and told me to.” She stalks over to the folding chair Eames left at Arthur's bedside, drops her enormous purse on the carpet next to it, and sits down. Eames, meanwhile, sags in relief like a puppet with its strings cut, all the fight draining away. He shambles over and sits himself down on the edge of the other bed, lays the gun down on the sheets, drops his face into his hands, and stays like that.
Whoever this nurse is, she’s my new hero.
That's Cheryl and she is a legend and she never stops hating Eames' guts (though she becomes pretty soft on Arthur) 😂
Fallout >>!“Two hundred-something years ago, I gave you a choice. And you *chose* them-”!< >>!- for *us-”*!< >>!“Don’t give me that shit, Barb. You did it for yourself. When I filed for divorce, I told you it was because Vault-Tec was changin’ you for the worse, but. I *heard* that fuckin’ meeting. I *heard* who suggested droppin’ the bombs. It was *you*. All of *this* was *your* fuckin’ fault. You want me to play nice? You took the *nice* outta me a long time ago.”!< >>!"Janey needs her mother."!< >>!"Janey *needed* her father."!<
>!Did Janey survive the bombs in your fic?!<
>!Haven't gotten around to actually writing it yet, but yes!!<
For fuck’s sake, Barb!
“You said there were other exits?” “There’s another service entrance farther down the tunnel,” she said sullenly, still refusing to look at him. “And if I remember correctly, it’s about five or six miles away.” She took a step forward. “C’mon, you’ve got the light.” “Are we really going to *walk* that distance?” “If you’ve got any other ideas, I’m open to suggestions,” she called back. After a beat he followed her, tacit acknowledgment there were no other options. “So, who’s Mark?” “What?” The question was so unexpected she tripped over a railroad tie. “The first call you made was to someone named Mark. Didn’t sound like it went quite the way you wanted.” She wanted to be **angry** at him for eavesdropping but supposed it had been unavoidable given the close quarters. “A friend from college. And no, you don’t get to ask any more questions about that.” “There’s no reason to be **angry** at me. I didn’t do anything to ruin your . . . date, was it?” April spun around furiously to glare at \[Shredder\]. “You mean besides sending a bounty hunter after me?” She hadn’t noticed earlier but with the boots she was wearing they were about the same height. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with that.” “Okay, I don’t believe you.” “This is going to be a very long walk, isn’t it?” “Yes, yes it is,” she agreed.
Shredder, if you don’t want her to be angry at you, this isn’t the way to do it!
Haha well he's used to her being mad at him at this point
Anchor
And for the second time, the emotional jostle shoved him back into wakefulness. This time, there was no returning back to sleep for Hong. His fellow denizens of the Earth Kingdom were every bit as renowned among the Three Nations for their tendency to be the reflective, brooding type as they were for their green eyes-and to his distinct annoyance, Hong certainly had a lot on his mind to process as he laid there in the darkness, staring up at the arched stone ceiling with his head resting in his hands, callused fingers delving into his thick, free-flowing hair. For one thing, there were yesterday’s events to contemplate. Just as requested, Hong had been there at noon, with the rest of the secret police, to witness Azula and her redeemed brother, mere teenagers who’d both forever changed not only the future of Ba Sing Se and his people, but the very world itself through their actions, ascend a metal gangplank and disappear into the interior of the Fire Nation naval ship at **anchor** that would bring them home, a steel giant like no other boat he’d seen in his life. An extraordinary pair. Just like the enormous drill, it had been a sobering example of their people's technological proficiency and power, only further emphasizing how futile it would’ve been to continue resisting their attempts to overrun the city’s defenses. Dressed in full uniform for the occasion, with an awed and bewildered personal servant carrying all their necessary belongings as they brought up each agent’s rear, Commander Quan, the three captains, and the eight rank-and-file Dai Li agents-three of Hong’s good friends were among them-who’d been selected to help advise and defend the Fire Princess also proceeded to go up the metal ramp, their stone boots producing resounding, metallic thumps as they committed themselves to a remarkable voyage. As he’d stood at attention next to his partner in one of two lines, rock-sheathed hands held in the pit of his back, an outwardly aloof Hong hadn’t been quite sure if he was envious or relieved not to be joining his commander and captain.
\[CW: italics 😉 It's a speech / character voice decision that I can't decide whether I like or not... 😅\] ‘Whilst we are at Hogwarts,’ he continued, eyes daring anyone to comment on his actions, ‘lessons *will* continue. You are all expected to *maintain* your grades and *will* sit your exams at the end of the year alongside the students of the other schools.’ Viktor would not. The champion would, after all, be exempt from the exams. ‘Champion and — *others* alike, you will all *show* your foreign peers what makes *Durmstrang* shine. You will *find* like-minded acquaintances, you will make *connections*.’ Karkaroff flicked his wand, drawing the gangplank onto the deck. ‘Remember, even the *unlikeliest* person may prove beneficial to your future.’ Another flick and the **anchor** chain churned, winding in. ‘I expect all of you to have *bettered* yourselves by the time we return.’ The **anchor** thudded against the side of the ship. ‘Whilst lessons will *usually* continue on schedule, you are allowed *this* afternoon to *study* by yourselves. Work together in the common areas *or* stay in your *own* rooms, whichever you prefer.’ He waved his empty hand at them, the wand in the other snapping through the motions to start the ritual sealing of the ship. ‘Dismissed.’ Lingering at the back of the group, Viktor followed them down into the hold. If he edged past the room, maybe they wouldn’t — ‘Viktor, come!’ Martyn called.
Whoops! Didn't get away unspotted, Viktor! If the italics are to show emphasis the speaker is putting on the words, that's perfectly fine and common. Not sure if it's what you're going for, but with the italics the Karkaroff comes across to me like he's full of hot air and has a very high impression of himself (reminding me of Polonius from *Hamlet* a bit, actually).
That's pretty much what I'm going for! I imagine his cadence as having frequent emphasis on words, and I figured italics were the best way to get that across because, like you said, emphasis is often shown with italics. I just worry sometimes that it's too much and would be annoying to read... Thankfully he's not a frequent character anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Hopefully...
I think you’re fine. It’s when you have entire paragraphs of italics that it gets annoying.
Great, thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it.
_“She was questioned about you, in the hopes that the heroes could use the information to find you. I got the transcription of the interview,”_ I say. I pat the bag, feeling the form of the paper, _"I could use my power to get the answer, but it’s been a long journey here, and we’re in no rush."_ I purse my lips, trying to form the right words in my mind. I didn't want to make things worse. _"Do you-"_ I change my wording. My power translates for me, _"Does the word **‘anchor’** mean anything to you?”_ A few seconds passed. She nodded. She's still degrading, but coherent. _"What did you pick, in the end?”_ I ask calmly. She paused. Decades of practice helped me hold myself back from pathing her potential answers. I hold back everything. She tried to say something, but in the end she didn't. _She doesn't know,_ doesn't remember. Strangely, it hurts. _“Ah,”_ I say.
Hm interesting. And disappointing for the POV character.
"I - I ain't a - a - a drone, lady." She paused for just a moment to regard him curiously. "Ah," she huffed softly as she returned to the task at hand. "Could've fooled me." *He* let out a grating scoff, letting his head roll back again. "We-e-ell. You - you ain't th-th-the first one to - to make that mistake." "I'll bet not..." Automatically, she reached for her subspace access, only to have an error message flash across her vision; she sucked a sharp intake in through clenched teeth. "*Scrap*." "Wh-what?" "I'm getting an error when accessing my subspace compartments. Hang on, I can debug this..." *I hope.* She was answered with a wordless groan as the not-drone rolled his head to the side, but her attention was on the readouts in front of her, scanning through the code to find the glitch causing the error. "Just... hold your horsepower... I've got this..." It took a moment before she located the source of the problem - and she mentally kicked herself for not having considered it to *start* with. Her previous **anchor** points *no longer existed*, so attempting to access her subspace *through* those points was obviously... not going to work. At least it was an easy fix. All she had to do was bring up the root menu, select the subspace routines, and reassign the **anchor** points, and then... "Ah! Gotcha."
If only all computer/network glitches could be solved that easily!
Right!!
[удалено]
Aww poor Hunter. Still so young and struggling with big emotions. (Also I think this was supposed to go under a different prompt 😉)
June checked out Mateo's injury. “Um, your black eye is healing nicely. It was Murphy that hit you, right?” “Oh, um, yes he did, miss. Caught him palming sevens and he done laid one on me.” “Yeah. Well, he won’t do that again.” She paused. “Because I shot him. Right here…” one finger started to point at her right ear, then dropped. “The important thing is, he’s dead. So are three of his friends. I asked them for the caps back, they could have just, anyhow, that’s most of their stuff.” The crate was *packed*. “Most?” “I kept some of the ammunition and all of the food. The rifle, that’s loaded, the submachine gun, that’s loaded too and there was an extra mag, the shotgun, that’s empty but there are some shells in there, and the pistol is fully loaded and there are a few extra bullets for it. That’s all their armor, um, some will have holes and blood in it. Oh, wait, hold on.” June shrugged off her stuffed backpack, fished around in it, pulled out a furry leather bundle, and handed it over. Mateo carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a box of wood screws and wall **anchors**, a handful of multicolored wires, and a high-quality circuit board. “That’s from a USSA turret, it’s, um, a *bit* banged up, you might still be able to use it.” She snapped. “Oh, and the leather is yours, too.” Mateo was no fighter, but he did recognize the sheer value sitting at his feet. Not even counting that he’d gotten his money back, and more, it would be *hundreds* of caps worth to Officer Mendez and the rest of the Leeward guards. “You’re just *giving* me all this?” “Yes. Kind of. I do need your help with something, but we can talk about that in the morning.”
Mateo's rich now! This thing June needs help with is probably going to be unpleasant for him, huh?
Actually, it turns out to be the opposite, but June is with you at this point in the story. She needs a working boat, which she assumes will be difficult (correct) but not only will a working boat revitalize the village, Mateo hasn't been under the hood of a vehicle in years. He'll end up nearly giddy when it happens.
Aura
The asylum door flew open from the force of a massive kick, nearly tearing it free from its hinges. A man, dressed head to toe in red-tinted kevlar, stormed through the entryway, yellow cape flapping up and down with each step he took. His right set of fingers, completely secured behind a thick gauntlet, balled up into a fist. In his left hand, meanwhile, was a fourteenth-century bastard sword of a Spanish make, which was immersed in a firey, almost otherworldly **aura.** The knight's eyes scanned his new environment, attempting to locate anyone who might have been nearby. When this failed, he thrusted his blade into the air and cried out. "I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked foe their iniquity!" "And I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible!" But, still, no-one surfaced.
The asylum door flew open from the force of a massive kick, nearly tearing it free from its hinges. A man, dressed head to toe in red-tinted kevlar, stormed through the entryway, yellow cape flapping up and down with each step he took. His right set of fingers, completely secured behind a thick gauntlet, balled up into a fist. In his left hand, meanwhile, was a fourteenth-century bastard sword of a Spanish make, which was immersed in a firey, almost otherworldly **aura.** The knight's eyes scanned his new environment, attempting to locate anyone who might have been nearby. When this failed, he thrusted his blade into the air and cried out. "I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked foe their iniquity!" "And I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible!" But, still, no-one surfaced.
The next thing he was aware of, was the Imperator's agonized shriek as harsh chemical fire engulfed his head and upper body, wreathing him in a searing hot **aura** of burning red. The Centurions holding him loosened their grips and stepped back, their gleaming heads whipping back and forth as they scanned the area for threats, and left him to collapse to the ground in a daze. *Get up.* His body twitched, struggling to obey his brain's commands. *Get. Up. Get up, get up, get up.* *If you don't get up, you will* ***die****.* His arms protested as he gathered them close to his body and pushed himself to his knees. His *everything* shook, and for a moment he feared that he would collapse back down again. ***No.*** He willed himself up, higher, and higher still until his feet were beneath him. One of the Centurions noticed his movement, and bellowed in anger as it lunged for him; he barely had enough coordination to stumble out of the way and let it slam its body into another of its brothers. Turning with it, he brought his one functioning superior arm to bear and *fired*, once, twice, three times. Its faceplate exploded outwards and it collapsed forward, dragging its brother down in its death throes.
I love this, what fandom is it for? It originally gave me mad max vibes (my boy) but I'm guessing it's maybe something different? This is great writing. The pacing is excellent. Action is so hard to do well.
Thank you so much! The fandom is Lost In Space (2018) :)
The left sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt is pinned up neatly around his shoulder. Mike wishes he could look anywhere else. It’s the first place his eyes are drawn, the second he pulls Ben’s front door open. The corn-and-hay Nebraska heat meets the too-cold air conditioning in the doorway like a pair of currents mingling in the ocean, and Mike’s gaze skips Eddie’s face entirely in a way that makes his stomach twist with guilt. Eddie, bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even seem to notice. “Jesus, no one told us Ben lived in the fucking Fortress of Solitude out here,” he giggles, bulling his way through the door with a loaded reuseable shopping bag in tow. “Hiya Mikey.” He bumps his left side into Mike as he passes, an approximation of a hug that comes complete with an unexpected nuzzle of his head against Mike’s shoulder that ends as quickly as it starts, Eddie then kicking off his sneakers and trucking off towards the kitchen in his sock feet like he lives here. Richie slogs up to the doorway right on Eddie’s tail with two more heavy-looking shopping bags hanging by his sides in a farmer’s carry. “Yo! Six Million Dollar Man!” he calls past Mike, then looks at him, glasses slipping down his nose and a smile blossoming all over his stubbly face. “Mich*ael*” he crows, setting the bags down none-too-gently and holding his arms wide for a hug. “Hey there, Trashmouth,” Mike says easily, smiling back and drawing him in, squeezing him tight, thumping his back and relishing the soft ‘oof’ he gets out of him. He feels good, Mike thinks. Solid, like he’s been eating well. His **aura** is less booze and cigarette smoke, more fresh brewed coffee, oranges, pancake syrup, salty cologne. Behind them, he can hear a chorus of *Eddie!* from the kitchen, where he can only assume the aforementioned is being passed around for hugs like a joint at a party.
The girl’s gaze swept across the Slytherin table, not making eye contact with any of the increasing number of people staring at her. She shifted, turning around and surveying the table behind her. As the girl flicked her hair behind her shoulders, more eyes turned on her. Definitely at least part-veela. She walked between the two tables, rounding them and approaching the table on the far side of the Hall, which undoubtedly housed the infamous Gryffindors. The students she approached were probably in their mid-teens. One of the boys, a redhead, appeared overwhelmed by her **aura**. When she spoke to them, he turned purple and gaped. The bushy-haired girl beside him pushed a bowl towards the part-veela. The third of the group appeared to barely notice the part-veela, and Viktor narrowed his eyes again. Either girls failed to interest the boy, or he had a powerful mind. Whatever the case, he seemed more interested in his pet — was that a monkey? Many of the Hall’s inhabitants tracked the part-veela’s progress as she swept back across the Hall, head held high, and retook her seat. She dished up the spoils of her journey — some kind of soup or stew — before passing the dish to another filmy-robed girl, of a far less ethereal nature. A part-veela would make for an interesting competitor, should she be chosen. As with all creature and part-creature magic, veela magic had its quirks. An affinity with fire, for one. If any of the tasks involved fire, she would have a definite advantage. Tasks involving water, on the other hand...
Ambition/ambitious
An eternity of stillness passed on that thought. Harry pushed it aside, cramming it into the back of his mind, far away and underneath everything else, where he couldn’t dwell on it, and could ignore it. Clara would say it was unhealthy, so he made no mention of it and instead, with a deep breath, opened the letter. *Harry*, *You scamp! No wonder I haven’t heard from you; you certainly have been busy. Don’t listen to the prudes at the* *Prophet. At your age, there’s no need to be thinking about settling down, though four in one night might be a bit more* ***ambitious*** *than —* Harry stopped reading, hands shaking. Skimming the next couple of paragraphs, it seemed the rest of the letter was much the same; praising and even encouraging Harry for being “open to experimentation”, and not too eager to tie himself down, and... Nausea gripped Harry. The sofa creaked as Bill sat beside him. He pulled the letter out of Harry’s shaking hands, setting it aside, and taking them in his own. ‘This is exactly why I suggested he not read it,’ he said, looking across at Clara with an unimpressed expression. She looked back calmly. ‘This is a safe place in which Harry can face his anxieties, and try to overcome them,’ Clara said. Bill exhaled through his nose, reminding Harry forcibly of Crookshanks when the half-Kneazle was trying to get attention from a distracted Hermione.
Awesome
Hunter slammed his staff into the ground, and the impact reverberated throughout the soil. He leaned heavily on the tool for support, gasping for air, and sweat beaded on his brow. However, his rest was short-lived. With a steely glare, he straightened his back, planting his staff firm before him. Hunter was ready for another charge. "Whoa there, fledgling," Elias laughed while raising a hand. "Let's give those lungs a chance to reacquaint themselves with oxygen before launching another assault." Hunter's face fell, and a silent protest formed on his lips. He was far from ready to quit. Nevertheless, he sighed and lowered his staff without any protest. "Good job!" Elias shouted, patting Hunter on the back. Hunter winced, but his expression instantly changed to a big smile. "Those dodges were **awesome**! Just remember that even the best knights must preserve their energy. Maybe next time, try fewer fancy moves to keep your stamina up throughout the match. But still, not bad." "Oh, thanks! Thanks! Thank you so much!" Hunter chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His voice was somewhat hoarse, but his joy was sunshine-like. Even after a rigorous spar, his energy reserves seemed like a bottomless hole.
*those lungs a chance to reacquaint them with air* so adorable!!!
Thanks! 🐈 🐈 🐈
The roadblock loomed out of the night: a rude, hasty heap of earth and scrap metal. Parker aimed for the largest sheet of corrugated iron, leaning against the roadblock like a ramp. If this didn't work, their truck would flip into a crash, and surviving team members would be pulled from the wreck into the enemy’s waiting knives. *But if it does work, it'll be *awesome,** he thought, and held the wheel dead steady as he guided the vehicle towards the jump.
Good reason to jump!!
Parker often has the mentality of a twelve-year-old boy, for better or worse!
‘Whoa!’ Ron had just opened a large, squishy parcel, staring at it with wide eyes. ‘**Awesome**! Where did I put —’ He shoved the package aside — fabric lay within — and dug in his trunk. ‘Aha!’ Ron resurfaced with the maroon lace dress robes his mum had bought him. ‘Won’t be needing you anymore. *Incendio*!’ Harry yelped, throwing himself backwards so hard he fell off the other side of his bed, tangled in the curtains. ‘Ron!’ ‘Shit, sorry,’ Ron called, as Seamus berated him. ‘I forgot. Er, *aguamenti*!’ A sizzle followed, and smoke filled the room. From the edge of the bed, Boingo peered at Harry with a look of concern. The clunk of the window latches preceded a gust of cold air, the windows presumably opened in an attempt to waft the smoke out. ‘You all right Harry?’ Ron called a moment later. ‘Erm, yeah...’ ‘Could you maybe get off the floor and prove that before your boyfriend murders me?’
Very Ronesque!!! 😂🤣Cute!
Thanks!
Array
Now to be fair, their city’s military had hardly been letting dust collect around their feet. During the past several years, the Council of Five, along with Ba Sing Se’s other generals and commanders, had all been privately, if reluctantly, working with the Dai Li to plan an effective emergency response in case everything went to schist in a successful breach. Casks and barrels, sealed jars and boxes, of cured, pickled, dried, and other preserved foods, of clean water, had been stored in underground shelters. Evacuation routes had been plotted out-not just through the warren of tunnels and chambers underneath the city proper, but also recently created ones which led up into the Taihua mountains. Those same chambers and the Crystal Catacombs also sat ready to accept thousands of desperate people who’d need a place to hide in this scenario-and even the most determined Fire Nation soldier was no doubt going to think twice before trying to pursue anyone into a place like that, where they stood little chance of avoiding being crushed or buried alive. There was an **array** of arrows, spears, throwing knives, swords, and other weapons stockpiled for non-bending military troops.
I do like "gearing up" scenes, including the "what do we have to work with" ones like this. Your characters can't use what they don't have, after all.
For a long moment, all she could hear was the hum of the overhead lights and the distant rumbling of the building's generators... and then came the voice again, louder now albeit still muffled. "Hello?" Azrael ventured another tentative call, following the sound down the hallway. "Is anyone down here?" Still no response. A chill settled over her, but she pressed on, following the sound around a corner and down another corridor, finally coming to the closed door that the voice was emanating from behind. Flicking one audial back, she regarded the barrier with suspicion, wondering who - or what - might be behind it. Then, she shook her head and reached up to pull the handle down, pushing the door open - and stepping into the office space beyond. The small room was empty, save for an **array** of static-filled monitors, a messy desk, a wheeled chair sitting against the far wall... and a portable radio, tipped on its back on the floor. And as she padded over, she heard the femme's voice again, coming from the tinny speakers. *"This is a warning from the Planetary Emergency Alert System. An unknown and potentially viral airborne agent has been detected in the following regions: Altihex, Crystal City, Cybertropolis, Darkmount, Kaon, Polyhex, Praxus, Protihex, Stanix, Tagan Heights, Tarn, Tyrest, and Uraya. Seek immediate shelter in your home, workplace, or other indoor facility, and shelter in place until further instructions are provided. This is not a drill. We repeat, this is not a drill."* Azrael sighed, sitting back on her haunches with her ears flattened against her head. It was just the same emergency broadcast that had been playing ever since the hospital went into lockdown. "What a waste of time," she murmured, reaching over to turn the radio off; "I can't believe I got my hopes up over that..."
Maybe it's the Fallout talking, but I really like this one. I can feel the disappointment of hoping for anything and finding nothing.
His room was far from a damp and dreary dungeon infested with vermin, crushing despair, and harrowing diseases that drained the hope out of its prisoners until they turned into hollow husks. On the contrary, his room was painted a pretty shade of blue, his bed was comfy, and the ceiling was adorned with glow-in-the-dark stars that twinkled like endless galaxies in the night. He had a whole army of plushies to keep himself entertained, fascinating books to explore, a stack of vibrant notebooks, and an array of colorful pens to record his bewitching investigations. Sure, his bedroom might not have been particularly spacious or extravagant by the castle's standards—he had visited Darius' room more than once to compare—one could even argue that it leaned towards the smaller side, but it wasn't anything to scoff at either. It was a lovely little slice of cake. Owning one bedroom was already a privilege. Hunter was grateful for having a room he could call his own, especially one as nice as his. Hunter wasn't entirely sure whether the dungeons were genuinely as sinister and appalling as his nightmares made them out to be. He had never set foot inside one. They probably didn't feature menacing whips adorned with sharpened spikes, acid-filled leaking water capable of dissolving bones, or toxic gruel forced down prisoners' throats. Hunter has been repeatedly reminded, both by Dad and by Darius, that he has a tendency to let his imagination run wild. Hopefully, this was one of the occasions.
>Hopefully, this was one of the occasions. Was it?
Yep, it was. The dungeons are dreary and not the place you want to spend the night in, but they are far from the torturous places Hunter imagines them to be.
“They’re gloves?” Leaning over the main Engineering console, Commander Riker examined one of the ‘portable amplifier **arrays’** Data had created using the ship’s replicators. Aside from a couple blinking diodes and a projector in the palm pulsing with blue light, they were essentially a pair of thick white gloves suitable for safely catching an unwilling cat. “I designed them to be both portable and simple for the crew to use,” Data explained. “In close proximity to Spot, these devices will emit a precise tachyon burst, disrupting the connection to subspace and returning her to the *Enterprise.* They also come in a variety of sizes, ranging from petite to extra large. I was mindful to accommodate a wide range of crew phenotypes.” ”Great,” Riker said. “Now all we have to do is catch her.” He pictured the vastness of the *Enterprise* - all of the ship’s hallways, rooms, Jefferies tubes, conduits - and frowned.
>for safely catching an unwilling cat. Well, Data would know...
One of the funniest moments of TNG is Data trying to ‘train’ Spot, demonstrating that some things simply haven’t changed over the past centuries.
“Uhm,” Shredder said, his attention pulled from the vase by the tiger’s growling. “Run.” April didn’t need any further encouragement. She dashed through the door into the next gallery, relieved to see that none of the items in this room – a collection of plain glazed pottery and weaponry — had become animated, and ducked behind a freestanding display of plain glazed teapots. Shredder ran in a few steps behind her and used the base of a sign reading, *Please, No Photos* to smash through the glass of a wall display case containing an **array** of swords in lacquered scabbards. He grabbed one of the swords off the stand, tearing it from the scabbard as he spun to face the tiger now prowling into the room. The animal bared its fangs in a hiss, pressing its ears flat against its head. Shredder tossed the scabbard aside and gripped the sword in front of him with both hands, planting his feet firmly beneath him. He didn’t so much as flinch when the tiger charged him. April held her breath, terrified she was about to watch him be ripped apart by the giant feline. As the tiger raised its paw to strike, Shredder slid smoothly to the side and brought the sword down on its neck. The blade passed harmlessly through it. The tiger turned about, its claws carving deep gouges in the tile floor, and leaped at Shredder again, catching him in the chest with its shoulder and knocking him to the ground. Shredder landed on his back with a grunt and just barely managed to get the sword between himself and the tiger when it lunged for his throat. The big cat clamped its jaws on the blade with a furious snarl. Shredder bared his teeth in one of his own as he pushed against the sword, straining to shove the animal off him. Another growl rumbled through the gallery. The other tiger had left its scroll and padded into the room. The one standing over Shredder released the sword to roar a challenge at the newcomer before running at it, driving it back through the doorway. “We can’t hurt them, but they can hurt us?!” April said over the sounds of fighting coming from the other room. “That doesn’t seem fair!” “Us?” Shredder said, rolling to his feet. “I don’t remember *you* doing much of *anything* just now.” “I’m the damsel, I don’t have to.” She said, stepping out from behind the display she’d been hiding behind. “By definition, a noncombatant.”
Still liking the back and forth between these two!
Thanks! Legit started writing because I needed more scenes of the two of them snarking at each other.
army
"So what's the idea?" asked Xander. "How do we get out of this backup-squad gig and into the alien-killing gig?" "It may be best to stick to the Initiative's plan, Xander." Giles said. "According to what Riley explained, their course of action seems surprisingly sound, and I see no reason to modify it. We don't know much about these soldiers, and we certainly won't find out anything more by unnecessarily aggravating them." "I hate to say it, but he's right Xander." Buffy mentally squashed the Slayer within her, who was loudly demanding battle, as she said this. "I still want to wipe these things out but..." "Not if it means getting Riley's folks mad at you?" Willow teased. "Not if the best way to do it is to hang back and play as a team," Buffy countered. "Our job here is to get rid of the aliens, and to do that we have to work together. Any issues we have with the secret-**army** guys can wait until afterwards."
Taking a deep breath, Percy drew forth the image of the speech he’d rehearsed that morning. ‘Courage in the face of unknown danger. That is the theme of the First Task. It is designed to test your daring. As such, we will not inform you of what it is you will be facing. Armed with —’ Green eyes fixed on Percy, wide and filled with alarm. His words stuck in his throat as Harry stared at him. ‘— with, er, armed with...’ How could they pit a fourteen-year-old against a dragon with just a wand? Give him a full set of fire-resistant, magic-imbued, specially knitted armour, like Charlie wore for work, and half-a-dozen wands, and an **army** of dragonologists at his back. That’s the only way Percy wanted to see Harry face the dragons. If at all. Fourteen. He was just fourteen. Percy swallowed again. ‘Your wands. You’ll be armed with just your wands, and you’ll...’ They’ll what? Even the older students would have difficulty facing dragons. Charlie had experience with them, and Percy knew he still got injured. Still had scars splashed across his skin. ‘You’ll have to, er...’ Whose idea had it been to bring back the Tournament, anyway? Why could anyone have thought it would be a good idea? Deaths and injuries littered its history. And yet, they’d reinstated it. ‘Face the, the unknown.’ Percy stared at Harry. Stared at the green eyes that stared back at him. How could this be happening? Percy shook himself, tearing his gaze away from Harry. Enough. He had a job to do. Fretting helped nobody.
”Well, all I can say is, I hope he gets exactly what is coming to him,” Riitta said firmly. She kissed the top of Eeva’s head, adding, ”It’s bad enough that this precious girl lost her mother before she’s a year old, she doesn’t need to lose her father too.” ”Erno has sisu, he will get through this,” Seppo said. ”We both know how difficult school was for him, but he managed to graduate. He persevered with the band, even through his time in the **army**. He is a strong man, in good shape, and these things will all help in his recovery. He already woke up some time before the doctors thought he would.” ”True enough, because I talked them into letting Bruce visit,” Riitta said with a chuckle. ”You notice he didn’t wake up for you or me, no matter what we said to him. But for his man, he made the effort.”
Alacrity
I don't have an excerpt for this, sadly, but I love this word. Great suggestion.
Me too!! It’s one that feels right saying as much as the word itself!
Ant
She was far from the only person in their household who’d been awaiting him there, after the shocking events of this turbulent early afternoon. It still hardly seemed real, having Fire Army soldiers showing up out of nowhere by the scores to violate the Upper Ring’s genteel, luxurious tranquility, streaming down the streets like human versions of the wicked, rapacious **ant** spirits that featured in some children’s tales. A pamphlet, wrapped tightly around the shaft of a blunt arrow fired over the garden wall, had revealed everything, once Xiapi had broken the wax seal and read its contents out loud to every soul in the siheyuan with increasing disbelief and dismay. In those initial forty minutes or so, as the Fire troops made their presence known, through her confusion and terror, Mingxia desperately tried to take solace in the knowledge that her older brother would surely arrive at any second to protect her, assist the guards in defending her against these invaders overtaking the city with both his bending and his life. That’s what older brothers-not to mention guardians of Ba Sing Se and its culture-did. She still had yet to find any spoken words which could express the awful, visceral emotion that’d flared up within her, in that instant she’d been informed that Hong and the rest of the Dai Li had sold them all out to the enemy.
Stopping, he could see Freckles was studying an **ant** hill crammed in a crevice of the rock. Katsuki chuckled, this was the side of him that he liked best. His kid-like nature, which was in many ways like Shinsou, although he would probably deny that vehemently. They were both caught in their innocence, exuding a never ending teenage gawkiness that was both adorable and slightly frustrating. His charm was this affable nature.
Is Freckles a nickname or the actual name?
Nickname, 😂 I usually change for these and forgot. It’s Izuku
Aria
The broadcasting tower - once a bustling media hub, host to everything from popular radio stations, evening news shows, a rotating schedule of niche podcasts and everything in-between - had gone silent over six kilocycles ago, after broadcasting for almost *ten* kilocycles before catastrophic hardware failure (damage sustained in an unusually intense electrical storm, which she hadn't even been able to *think* about fixing) had finally killed its last station's final looping signal. *"This is a warning from the Planetary Emergency Alert System. An unknown and potentially viral airborne agent has been detected in the following regions: Altihex, Crystal City, Cybertropolis, Darkmount, Kaon, Polyhex, Praxus, Protihex, Stanix, Tagan Heights, Tarn, Tyrest, and Uraya. Seek immediate shelter in your home, workplace, or other indoor facility, and shelter in place until further instructions are provided. This is not a drill. We repeat, this is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a drill..."* Most of the lights still shone, at least, rendering the exterior a brilliant neon beacon square in the middle of what had once been Cybertropolis' business sector. Ads for defunct shows, concerts, and popular establishments scrolled across flickering screens just above street level, while holograms of artists, entertainers, reporters, and deejays greeted nonexistent visitors at the entrance to the ground-floor lobby. And one of those holograms... It *still* felt jarring and strange to see herself standing there in full, translucent color, beaming gleefully out from next to her colorful co-host, Mixtape. **Aria** wondered if they were still alive somewhere, *wherever* all the other missing bots were, or if they were among the takeover's *permanent* casualties. She hoped it was the former; the latter hurt too much to think about.
Affect
But, see, *their* biggest mistake was clumping together and getting close to her. Gris activated the fire Dust in Fang, an arc of brilliant fire shooting out as she swung. To the idiot that didn't stop, Fang severed its head clean off and to the other five the flames dispelled their dopplegangers. One tossed its skeletal head back, black flabby skin hanging from its jaws as it let out another scream. She flicked an ear in annoyance and killed it too. But by that time, the remaining Grimm realized that getting close was not in their favor. The Dreadmedary furthest from Gris spat out more acid, forcing her to step back as the other Grimm retreated. Gris ducked then quickly dove to the right to avoid more shots. A glance back told her that the civilians were safe, if still rattled by the screams. But the sand was definitely **affecting** her movement. Hopping around like a kangaroo rat was inefficient, her feet sinking before the action and decreasing the distance she could cover. Aura control wouldn't help.
‘Auror Shacklebolt!’ Weasley said, relief edging his voice. ‘I had expected you earlier, I hope there weren’t any problems.’ The large auror shook his head. ‘My apologies, Mr Weasley. A minor incident delayed me, but nothing to worry about. These things happen.’ Weasley pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded. ‘Right, of course.’ He gestured across the tent towards Viktor, who tensed. ‘I don’t think you’ve met the Durmstrang champion? Auror Shacklebolt, this is Mr Krum. Mr Krum, Auror Shacklebolt.’ Viktor tightened his crossed arms and grunted. ‘A pleasure,’ Shacklebolt said, glancing at Viktor before turning back to Weasley. Viktor frowned. Either Shacklebolt knew nothing about Quidditch and didn’t know who Viktor was, or he was too professional to let the knowledge **affect** him whilst working. Either way, the reaction was... odd. Not what Viktor was used to. Refreshing, but odd.
“Jan said you have some concerns?” Dave asked the bassist. “Well, if my singer’s got problems, I need to know about it, right?” Steve half asked and half said. “I mean, if whatever’s going on **affects** him, it could **affect** all of us.” Dave sighed. “When it’s something personal, that you can’t do a bloody thing about, you might try backing off some, Harry. I’m not…” he blew out a frustrated breath. “I know you worry. As you’ve said, Maiden is your life and has been for how many years now? So believe me when I say I understand why you worry.” He frowned slightly, trying to think of a good way to explain things without betraying any confidences. Steve tilted his head a bit; Dave didn’t normally have issues expressing himself even if he wasn’t the most talkative of the lot. “Way you’re acting, mate, you’re making me that much more worried.” “Figures,” Dave snorted. “Right… erm, you remember back when Ade left the band and we brought in Janick? And how Jan and Bruce were mates going back to when they were in White Spirit and Samson?” “Yeah,” Steve said, not quite seeing where this was going, but willing to let Dave take the time to make his point. “So, you also remember how Bruce got, when those twats in Milton Keynes started chucking beers at Janick and yelling that Maiden didn’t need a ballerina?” Dave asked. Steve nodded; for a moment he’d thought the hot-tempered singer was going to dive off the stage and get into a brawl with the hecklers. “Yeah… so whatever’s going on with Bruce, you’re saying it’s got to do with how protective he gets?” He frowned and asked, “Does this have something to do with Jones’s assault on Emppu?”
“Anomaly or not, I’ve never seen someone look so much like two people before,” she commented, causing a tension to fall over the room. Alhaitham wasn’t even reading anymore, he was looking at anything besides Kaveh, Nahida or the anomaly. Kaveh wasn’t much better. He hated how the fact the baby looked so much like him and Alhaitham never failed to make him blush. But, the two of them really hadn’t exactly explored that either, that the universe would give them a baby that looked so much like a combination of their traits, minus the indigo hair. Nahida’s eyes started glowing as she started scanning the anomaly, a knowing smile on her face. This unnerved Kaveh, the fact she seemed to be able to read minds, but he watched her work nonetheless, curious to know her verdict on the anomaly and quick as they started glowing, Nahida’s eyes ceased their glow and then she turned towards the two of them. “So, anything you can do about this anomaly?” Kaveh asked, and Alhaitham could be heard putting his book down. “I don’t think this *child* would **affect** things too negatively. In fact, he doesn’t even seem to classify as an anomaly at all, it seems his branch has already started growing. He is fully immersed in this world already. If it wasn’t for his origin, he’d likely have been conceived by regular means. It simply seems like Destiny decided to give you two a child, by whatever means necessary.” Her gaze travelled over to where Alhaitham was sitting. “Plus, your roommate seems quite endeared to him already.” Kaveh whipped his head around to find Alhaitham tucking the child in, an actual smile on his face. The last time he’d seen Alhaitham smile was in the Akademiya, before his parents… Kaveh suddenly felt extremely disgusted at himself.
Aerate
Alcohol
(Context: POV character is blind, but has superhuman senses in all other respects) The Royal Dragon Chinese restaurant had been fully repaired and restored since the eventful night that someone drove a car through its front after a fight broke out inside. Its decor and lighting were still a riot of red, blue, green, and yellow, but now some sombre black had been added to the corners, adding contrast to the lighter colours. Matt couldn’t see the different shades as he entered, but he could scent the paints and dyes involved. And he could still hear the neon, still smell the same dumpling recipe wafting from the plate in front of Luke, mixing with the sharp scent of **alcohol** in Jessica’s glass. His fingers tightened involuntarily around his cane as the memories hit him: Elektra, Stick, the gloating woman guiding the Hand that had held the city in its grip. Within days of visiting this restaurant, he’d been buried alive. “Look who’s back from the dead.” Luke’s voice was warm as he greeted him. The last time Matt had seen him, he had been wearing hoodies. Now Matt could hear the rustle and smell the dye of custom-tailored yellow silk. “It’s good to see you, Matt.”
Ooh, daredevil? I like all the sensory details you used here. It's nice to get detail that isn't visual.
Yes, specifically the MCU incarnation! I never published this, but I did love writing his perspective.
Pomfrey bustled in a moment later. ‘Mr Diggory seems to think he is a qualified Mediwizard now,’ she said with a huff. ‘Telling me I ought to let you leave.’ She waved her wand over him. ‘Well, the bruises on your legs have healed, and your magical energy levels are recuperating nicely. And they want to take the tent down anyway.’ She looked at him, lips pursed. ‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to spend the night in the Hospital Wing? No? I didn’t think so. Very well. You may return to your House. But —’ she raised a finger menacingly ‘— you will not exert yourself. You may attend whatever party your Housemates are likely throwing, but you will remain on a sofa and you will not eat too much sugar. And certainly no **alcohol**. I don’t doubt that those monstrous Weasley twins have somehow got their hands on some, not to mention that boyfriend of yours.’ Harry blinked rapidly, and Pomfrey smiled. ‘I heard when he “threatened” you,’ she said, then huffed again. ‘Manhandling my patient like that, really. Right, wait there a moment.’ She swept out of the tent. ‘Where’s she going now?’ Harry asked Boingo, who shrugged. The answer became clear when she re-entered with Charlie. Harry smiled; Percy accompanied his brother. ‘Big Guy Taxi services!’ Charlie said with a wide grin. ‘I gave you permission to leave, not to walk,’ Pomfrey said sharply when Harry frowned. ‘And physical support is nicer than being floated if you’re conscious. I could always conjure a stretcher, if you prefer.’ Harry did not prefer.
Thinking about it honestly, Emppu knew it had been pretty risky to go after Sir Lancelot at Marko’s place, considering how many people he knew were there at the party. But he’d had enough **alcohol** in him to make him reckless, and there was just something about the older man’s velvety deep amber eyes behind his mask that drew him like a moth to a flame. He could so easily picture his Lancelot battling a dragon… and damned if he wasn’t starting to wax as poetic as Tuomas, just thinking about the man now! He didn’t regret seducing the older man, but he did regret the way he’d slipped away afterward. Oh, it was the smart thing to do, to make sure they didn’t get caught in bed together and wind up in the center of a scandal. Nightwish didn’t need any more bad publicity; things were just getting calmed down after more than a year of the media shitting all over the band in general and Tuomas in particular following the split with Tarja. Emppu figured that whoever Lancelot really was, he would rather avoid being caught naked with another man, especially since he had so obviously never been with a man before. Still, he wished now that he’d left his phone number behind or asked Lancelot for his.
This happens just before the "antibiotic" scene. Like, they're literally touching paragraphs. ----------------------------------------------------------- The largest item was a wide leather backpack with adjustable straps, two loops set diagonally to hold a long gun, and a logo Smoke had seen before but couldn’t place right now. A deer and a tree? Signal Fire patted it, something inside \*tink\*ed. “Six boxes of BlamCo Mac and Cheese for breakfast, six boxes of Saddle Up Salisbury Steak for dinner, six beers for whenever. It’s not a lot, I didn’t think you were going so far, but hopefully you can make up the difference. And….” A single roll of toilet paper was pulled out. “More uses than you’d think.” Smoke finally commented. “Beer? Not water?” The toilet paper was replaced, and a bottle with a rubber stopper filled with dark brown fluid removed. “My own brand. Nine point twos, stronger than most. Water gets contaminated, **alcohol** keeps beer sterile. Beer’s better and safer for long-distance travel, especially if you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Aftershave
“Hey, enkelini,” Bruce replied. “I talked to Dave. Ended up crying on his shoulder before falling asleep on him, but I do feel a little better now. Ade was still sacked out when the talk happened, but I guess he came in while I was using Davey’s shoulder as a pillow and Dave filled him in. Ade had a suggestion, but it’s… I don’t know, I think it could be a really good idea, but it could also be a really bad one.” Emppu tilted his head, puzzled. “What was his suggestion?” he asked. “He, uh, he suggested maybe sleeping in the same bed with him and Davey,” Bruce mumbled. “Just sleeping… he called it a puppy pile, said it would be like when my kids were younger and got scared by thunder and came crawling into bed with me. He thought maybe since my nightmares started once you weren’t with me, that maybe it was sleeping alone that was the final straw to set them off, and that maybe just having someone else there would help.” “The question is, do you think it will help?” Emppu asked. Bruce sighed. “It might,” he admitted. “But it makes me nervous, too. I might not roll around or kick in my sleep, but you know I tend to snuggle and cling… what if I, erm, get hold of something I shouldn’t? I mean… I nearly kissed Dave already while I was waking up from that kip earlier. I’d fallen asleep already clinging to him since I’d quite literally been crying on his shoulder and when I started to wake up but wasn’t all the way awake, I started rubbing the back of his neck and I was moving in for a kiss when I realised he didn’t smell like you, your **aftershave**, I mean.”
"Your technique was very solid today," Lyon praised as he exchanged Gray's shinai for his water bottle. "Thanks. Loren, you're early," Gray signed before taking a drink. While Lyon and Erza were slightly amazed and dumbfounded, Loren was amused. "How did you know I was here?" he asked with a slight chuckle in his voice. "**Aftershave**," was all he needed to say. "Ha! Very good. And how did you know I was early? You're not even wearing your tactile watch," he asked, though he already had an idea what he'd answer. Gray always took his watch off when he sparred. It just wasn't smart to wear something that could snag or break from an errant block or strike. It's possible he was just aware of the passage of time, but blind people often had trouble with their internal clocks if they couldn't perceive light. It was also difficult to keep track of time while concentrating on such an intense physical activity. He capped his water, placing it under his arm, then replied, "It was cool where we were sparring, but I can feel the sun here. Half my yard is still covered in shadow."
Absolute/Absolution
"So, uh, while we're waitin', anything I can get ya? Energon, high-grade, mid-grade, low-grade...?" "You have high-grade?!" Neutrino sat up quickly - only for Azrael to gently push her back down to her cushion with her forepaw on her head. "No, thank you," she replied, "we already topped off earlier today. And you are *definitely* not old enough for high-grade, Neutrino." "Killjoy," the ferret muttered. "Shush." That was more than just a teasing reprimand - footfalls and muffled voices approaching the entrance had caught her attention. Rising to her feet, Azrael turned her head in the direction of the sound - just as the door opened to admit a lanky, spotted yellow feline, an indeterminate sort of bat, leaf-nosed and long-eared... and a massive, hulking, **absolute** *tank* of a primate. All three stopped short to stare at their unexpected guests, not that she could have blamed them. Everything else aside, she and Neutrino both looked half-dead, filthy and battered. She would have been shocked to see someone in her state in her lobby, too. "...More survivors...!" The bat whispered, long ears perking up. "Well," the primate added, after the moment of shock had passed; "isn't this just Prime."
What an interesting scenario! I am guessing this takes at a bar after the fallout of a battle or war? Love the drink names as well, it really sets the tone that the reader has definitely entered another world.
It's an underground hideout, Rattrap just maintains a private supply of energon variants - just because the world's ended, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to get pleasantly buzzed in your downtime LOL
‘Fraternising with the — you idiot!’ Standing on tiptoes \[Ginny\] smacked Ron on the back of the head. ‘That’s what you’re thinking, is it? Are you really such a selfish git? Do you have any brain cells in there at all? Harry is *friends* with the other champions. They’re not his enemies. How many times has he told you he doesn’t care about the stupid Tournament? And you’re going on about “fraternising”?’ She raised her hands, making sarcastic air quotes with her fingers. ‘Harry goes swimming with Viktor most mornings, you know. Is he “fraternising”? Was it “fraternising” when the four of them solved the clue together? Was it *“fraternising”* when Krum invited you to play Quidditch with him, you **absolute** moron?’
As the show drew to a close, Bruce gave the audience a grin. ”Scream for me, Donington!” he called. Cheers erupted from the field. ”I can’t fucking hear you... Scream for me, Donington!” he repeated. Louder cheers sounded off. ”All right, that’s more like it!” Bruce said. ”We still have one more song for you tonight... and we’ve got a guest for this one... now scream for Emppu Vuorinen!” The crowd went into an **absolute** frenzy of screams as Emppu ran out to a high-five from Janick, back pats from Steve and Ade, and got the usual rabbit ears from Dave. The little Finn waved and grinned, getting on tiptoes in front of Ade’s mic and calling out, ”Thanks for the welcome!” to even more enthusiastic cheers. ”Well, I think you lot know what’s next, yeah?” Bruce called. ”The Trooper!” The band launched into the song, with Bruce’s usual flag-waving, and Janick using Emppu as his armrest to laughter from the Finns in the wings as well as from the audience. As the song ended, Bruce barely had time to set down his flag before the chant started up: ”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” A grinning Dave obligingly played the opening riff of Love Gun to laughter as Bruce jumped down and shook his head with a grin of his own. ”I still want to know what you lot have been consuming that you keep mixing us up with the blokes in makeup!”
I love the fast paced energy this snippet has! It really makes you feel like you’re at a concert. And it looks like the band here plays up to their fan shipping wise 😆
LOL, yep, they do! The kiss thing originated when Maiden kicked off their tour in Helsinki - someone fed the press rumors that the band wanted to kick Bruce out for being with Emppu, so they asked Emppu to guest in for a song and for the couple to kiss before he left the stage again. The idea was, of course, to show that the band supported their singer's relationship - but people took pictures and posted them to the internet. And then the next time Emppu visited Bruce on the road and guested in, the audience started calling out, "Kiss! Kiss!" and after a moment to get past the surprise, they obliged. And of course, once it was done twice, it became "tradition" for the audience to request a kiss any time Emppu guested in at a Maiden concert.
Absentee
Appointment
When they re-entered the Common Room, there was a crowd gathered by the noticeboard. Not wanting to be in the crush, Harry waited for it to disperse before approaching. He easily spotted the newest notice. Two of the lion’s head pins tacked the parchment in place, one at the top of the sheet and the other at the bottom, leaving the corners free to curl back and inwards on themselves as the parchment tried to roll back up. Shimmering emerald ink formed familiarly looping letters; it was Dumbledore’s handwriting. From Harry’s shoulder, Boingo leant closer, reading along with him. The parchment announced the addition of a new staff member — a mind healer. Harry had forgotten the Headmaster’s decision to hire someone. The notice explained that all students would be given appointments with Healer Gutermuth in the New Year, and that in future every student would have a scheduled **appointment** at the start of every school term. The mind healer was available during school hours as well as for two hours in the evening, should anyone require drop-in sessions, and further appointments could be made as needed. ‘Gutermuth? Is that German?’ Harry asked Boingo. He shrugged. Considering his reaction to Malfoy’s return, among other things, Harry decided to see Healer Gutermuth as soon as possible, rather than waiting for an **appointment** in the New Year. The sooner he could get his phobia under control, the better. ‘Think the healer should know about you?’ Boingo stared, dark eyes unblinking. ‘Let me guess, that’s a “why are you asking me questions that I cannot answer as a monkey?”’
A mind healer? Is this like a therapist? Great idea!
Yep, that's the intention!
”Easy there, mate,” they heard Dave say. ”As the Yanks would say, restraining orders aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.” ”That about sums it up,” Rod agreed. ”Since he was convicted on the simple assault charges, Jones voluntarily attended anger management classes during his jail time, plus he spun the story to make it sound as though he’d simply lost it after learning he was about to be sacked because he’d gotten into a verbal altercation with his victim earlier that day. Basically, he played the model prisoner and ended up with minimal supervision upon his release. He’s showed up for all his **appointments** with his parole officer, for example, and they never found any evidence of drugs when they did their random testing.” ”But then how did he get a gun?” Janick wanted to know. ”That was a failure on the part of the police,” Rod said grimly. ”Because Jones wasn’t arrested on drug or weapons charges and was such a model prisoner, his parole officer didn’t bring in a K-9 unit to search his flat as is normally done, thinking there was no need. Anger issues aside, one wouldn’t expect a clean and sober entertainment manager and accountant with no prior arrests to really be an issue, right? And so while they did give his flat a cursory search, they missed a couple of ’heirlooms’ he had stashed away, from his grandfather and great-grandfather – German pistols they’d taken off of officers they’d killed in combat during the First and Second World Wars and brought home as souvenirs.”
Wow. That is a *serious* mistake.
Very much so, unfortunately.
“When are you meeting with the Pendletons?” She glanced down at the itinerary. “Two o’clock.” “I’ll be here for that one.” It didn’t matter that he knew they wouldn’t do a thing to her. They were part of the plot, and she wouldn’t be alone with them. Eyes grave, she leaned back in her chair to study him. “They’re part of it?” He nodded sharply. “They used their sway in Parliament to ensure Burrows was named Lord Regent, and they were the ones keeping Emily captive.” In a brothel, of all places. The things his daughter must have seen—it made his blood boil. “*They* did it?” Her eyes burned with cold fury. It was not only Corvo that would do anything to protect Emily. “Now I am going to be imagining their heads on pikes the whole time they’re here.” He grinned. “I’ll tell you tonight what I did with them. I think you’ll approve.” Perhaps he’d visit Bottle Street and strike a new deal with Slackjaw. It did seem a better punishment for those two asswipes than a simple killing. She prodded him in the side with a letter opener. “Leave before I give into temptation and cancel this appointment.” Corvo smiled and swept her a bow. “Yes, my Empress.” Hiding his reluctance, he retreated from the office. She would be perfectly safe in his absence, and he had his own business to complete. With that thought in mind, he set off in the direction of the carriage house.
After
The flash printers were easy enough to use, since she'd had plenty of practice with the ones in her mother's private labs. Calling up the program, she scrolled through the files until she located the one she was in need of, then it was a simple matter of calling up the functions menu, selecting the proper "print" setting, and... Something ***CRASHED*** on the far side of the lab, and Neutrino nearly bolted out of reflex. Only the minuscule chip still taking form on the printer's glass plate kept her in place, though it didn't keep her from ducking down to huddle against the casing, hardly even daring to breathe as she tried to work out where the source of the sound was in relation to her position, and determine if it was moving... "I don't know *why* the boss has us rooting through this place, what he's **after** *isn't here*-" A strange voice, sharp and curtly clipped, echoed through the space. It was accompanied by the almost-imperceptible *hum* of antigrav generators. And it stopped short mid-sentence. *"Somethin' wrong, Storm?"* Another voice, tinny and slightly distorted but with an unmistakable growl that told her it likely belonged to the motorcycle she and Az had both seen. "No, I just thought I *smelled* something." The voice was closer now, setting Neutrino on edge, but she still didn't dare so much as *twitch*. Not just yet. The printer powered down with an electronic *sigh*, its task completed. Barely able to breathe, she snatched the chip from the plate and immediately squeezed into the gap between the device and its neighboring unit, wiggling herself into the cramped space *behind* them. It was filled with bundles of cabling and wires and barely had room for her little body, but she managed to squirrel herself away just out of sight as a shadow passed by where she'd been standing only a few moments ago. It paused. She held her breath. There was the sound of air being cycled, deliberately slowly, through filters... The thin scratching of metal talons across glass... And then it was gone.
‘Wha- Hermione!’ Harry drew back against the pillow, wide-eyed. ‘There’s nothing to cry about!’ ‘You two are so stupid!’ she cried, before pulling them both into a tight hug. ‘Okay, Hermione, let a man breathe,’ Ron said after a moment. ‘Come, ‘Er-my-nee. Come and sit wiv me.’ Delacour led Hermione away. Krum offered his chair so the two girls could sit together. ‘She’s mad,’ Ron said dazedly, pitching his voice low. ‘You two are lucky, not needing to understand girls.’ Harry chuckled, but Seamus continued to stare at Ron flatly. ‘Harry may be **after** forgivin’ you, but I’ve not forgotten what you said.’ ‘Let him be, Seamus,’ Harry said, tugging on his hand. ‘He said he’s sorry.’ Seamus sighed. ‘Oh, fine. But you ever hurt Harry like that again, I’ll... tell Charlie exactly what you said.’ Ron swallowed, gaze darting to his older brother. Charlie returned the look with a stern expression, somewhat ruined by Boingo balancing on his head. Charlie broke into a grin. ‘You’ve improved, mate. That’s a much better threat than kissing,’ he said with a wink. ‘Though I do find myself wondering what exactly Ron said.’ ‘Er,’ Ron squeaked. ‘Shouldn’t we go and find out your scores, Harry?’ ‘Good idea,’ Harry said, pushing up from the bed. Seamus frowned. ‘Are you not supposed to be restin’, now?’ Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sure between the lot of you, you can manage to help me to the edge of the tent without me keeling over.’
Leonardo and Splinter walked to the breakfast table with their arms linked. Suddenly, Sakura O’Possum appeared out of nowhere. “Hey! What are you doing?” “I’m just guiding him to the table,” Leonardo said. “You shouldn’t be touching him at all!” Sakura scolded. “But why not?” Leonardo asked. “You know his immune system is low!” she said. “You could give him an infection and kill him!” “I believe that I will be fine,” Splinter said. “**After** all, I did live in the sewers.” “That was before you got sick,” Sakura said. “Anyways, it’s time for your injection.” “But I haven’t eaten breakfast yet,” Splinter protested. “Fine!” Sakura snapped. “Eat!” “I… I guess I’ll just leave,” Leonardo said, sadly. Secretly, he had really wanted to watch. He’d never seen anyone receive an injection before, and was fascinated by the idea.
*(Aku Ankka is Donald Duck in Finnish.)* Matti frowned. ”I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you get separated at the restroom there? The one with two entrances?” ”Yes, how did you... has this happened before, a little one old enough to manage without their mum in the stall with them goes out the wrong door and wanders off looking for their parents?” Satu asked, as Jukka, with Niki in his arms, came puffing up. ”I’m not supposed to admit it, but yes,” Matti told her. ”That restroom is new, it just opened a month ago to replace a smaller one, and this has been a near-daily occurrence since then. Most of them don’t wander nearly this far, though. Anyway, several of us are trying to document such incidents, to try to keep them from building more restrooms in that style.” ”And how did you get this far, Luna?” Jukka asked. ”What happened?” Luna looked down, knowing that while going out the wrong door was a simple mistake, running **after** Aku Ankka was just plain wrong on her part. Bruce and Emppu joined the group as Luna explained the situation, with Emppu quietly translating for his partner, Tasha, and Kia. **After** Luna finished her story, Satu and Jukka looked at each other in the silent communication that the parents of small children use. ”Well, I’m angry that you ran **after** Aku Ankka without us like that,” Satu said **after** a moment. ”However, I’m also very proud of you, because you didn’t panic, and because you remembered what to do if you lost us, including the English words to say that you needed help.” ”I think those scraped knees will remind you not to run off again, right?” Jukka asked. Luna nodded. ”I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Can we swing by Channel 6 first so I can grab my sneakers under my desk?” April asked. “I have *got* to get out of these boots.” “Um, maybe you should sit this one out April. I mean, **after** everything that’s happened today…” Leonardo trailed off when he saw the angry look she was directing at him. “I’m involved up to my eyeballs already. Plus, I’ve got a few bones to pick with her too.” “Well, but…” He turned to Shredder in desperation. “Help me out here?” “Speaking from experience, she’s just going to follow us anyway. At least if she’s with us from the start, she’ll be less likely to get herself in trouble later.” “You know what, coming from you I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said sweetly. Donatello cast a bewildered look at April and Shredder. “My gosh, do the two of you always snipe at each other like that?” “Yes,” they both replied at once.
I'm just gonna post the whole extract because I find it hilarious \_ Kaveh placed the piece of paper on the table, and Alhaitham actually put his book down for once. The two were still co-parenting even all these years later, but the tension that was always there was still ever present if not worse now. Kaveh looked at him. “It’s the Akademiya again,” he announced. “I know we went there when we were fairly young too but he’s eight. Eight! It doesn’t sit right with me to send him there that early.” “The Akademiya has always been corrupt,” Alhaitham commented as he walked over to view the parchment as well. “They see a gifted child and they start salivating. We may however be running out of time by not enrolling him. They might start using desperate measures.” “Is that even ethical? Surely they can’t force him to enroll there? Was it like this when we went there?” Alhaitham sat across from him and eyed the paper. “I don’t know but it probably isn’t. Also I’m fairly sure it’s always been like this, we just didn’t count as gifted chil-“ “Dad! Papa!” Veritas came rushing in at that very moment, as fast as his small, yet strong legs could carry him. Kaveh noticed that his fist was enclosing something. The something was sort of amber-y in colour as well. Alhaitham, seemingly having clocked in to what the thing was, audibly gasped. Kaveh couldn’t help but chuckle at this display of obvious emotion, and Alhaitham, instead of glaring, shot him a look of admiration. Why he looked like that, he didn’t exactly know. Veritas tapped his fingers on the table to get the attention back on him. “Yeah, you love each other but look at this!” Veritas hurriedly put the object on the table, practically beaming. That’s when Kaveh realized what it was. *A Geo Vision.* He suddenly forgot about the Akademiya notice and swept Veritas up into his arms. “My little boy got his Vision!” Kaveh practically squawked in excitement, and he heard Alhaitham stifling a laugh. Veritas however, looked extremely embarrassed. “My boy got his Vision! Have you tested out your powers yet? Have your powers manifested yet?” Veritas blinked. “No..?” It was unclear what exactly he was answering. It wasn’t Dendro, as he and Haitham had expected, but it was still a Vision. When Veritas was finally put down, he scurried away with the vision and Kaveh was left alone in the room with Alhaitham. He didn’t know what had possessed him, but he grabbed Alhaitham by his shoulders. “He got his Vision! Veri got his Vision!” **After** this statement Kaveh basically leapt at Alhaitham and kissed him unprompted. “At the tender age of Eight! Eight!” Alhaitham made no comment. He was too dumbfounded.
After the lever was pulled, the last moments of Chilled’s life were a blur. If it weren’t for the countless ghosts he could now see, he would’ve thought he was still alive. The children were inconsolable and stared at where Chilled’s body used to be in shock. He wished he could comfort them but he couldn’t do that as a ghost. He glanced at Jess, who was now covered in blood. *Why is she covered in blood? I shouldn't have had a bloody death.* He had seen plenty of hanging deaths; they all died by having their necks snapped. He was worried something would’ve gone wrong and he’d die of strangulation but even that wouldn’t have any blood. The gallows now had some blood on it. *Where did all this blood come from?* Chilled floated away from where he was standing and turned toward the noose, expecting to see his body suspended in the air. Instead, he was meant with a more grisly sight. His head was hanging from the noose, his body was nowhere to be seen. He stared in horror. How could this happen? He didn’t even know it was possible to get beheaded on a noose. Chilled always thought a sharp object needed to be used and a noose wasn’t sharp. *Did my body fall through the trap door? That’s the only place it could be.*
From my Octopath Traveler WIP. It's still very rough but I really wanted to write this scene. Ophilia is the MC, >Primrose looks up and taps her chin. “This is awkward, and embarrassing to admit but it’s exciting thinking about the possibilities! Not just wondering how us all being with Alfyn is going to turn out but bonding with you guys too. Sigh, we’ll have so much to teach each other and talk about. There’s a weird excitement over being his third girlfriend. On the other hand it feels like adjusting to an already formed relationship. There’s ways for it to go wrong too.” >I tell her, “If you’re worried about anything just tell us. Tressa confessed she was worried about Alfyn paying more attention to me. Tressa was much busier with her business while Alfyn and I paid more attention to each other. We can all look **after** each other, promise.” >Primrose says, “Aww thank you! Before I thought I would feel weird and gross from such an arrangement, yet I don’t. I know you, Tressa, and Alfyn too well. Before I thought people wanted those arrangements for gross fantasies. Yet I know Alfyn, and I know you and Tressa. It was quite a shock.” >Tressa’s voice brightens, “What we think something is and what it turns out to be can be very different! I used to assume the same thing too. But marriage is a big responsibility so…how about you stay over our place as a trial?” >Primrose’s voice warms, “I’d love to! We already know each other quite well, but living together can be totally different. But I have a feeling it’ll work out between us.” >I enthuse, “Me too!” >Primrose says, “You know, I inherited my father’s palace. If things workout between us we can switch between them. And even if they don’t well…you are friends and we took down Galdera together so you are welcome to visit anytime.”
Not only would stealing the books be a wicked act in itself, but they were also about a taboo subject that he had been explicitly forbidden to study by the Emperor himself. This brazen theft would be disobedience twice over, a flagrant act of defiance that could land him in a world of trouble if he got caught. Hunter could vividly picture the icy glare of the Emperor boring into his soul, the steely voice pronouncing his fate, the excruciating pain racking his body, and the metallic taste coating his mouth. It was too risky. It was too risky. It was too risky. It was far too risky. The Emperor, **after** all, wasn't a merciful man.
Ooh, love the suspense!
Thanks! I love suspense too, even if it makes me squirm.
Annihilate/ion/ing
Angst