Ode to 11010201 Redux, Traditions Torn (2018-11-20)

There were an odd number of candidates at the trials.

Normally, this mattered not. Quantity of candidates were less important than quality, and only the best and brightest could join the Premier Witch Council.

But for this particular set of trials, the fact that there were an odd number of candidates was not just surprising but also worrying:

On the full moon after the Premier Gemini Witches died, trials were held to find a new pair of luminaries to replace them.

One candidate had come alone.

“I know what they think of me,” Candidate Chacone says during the final trial, “I know what they said.”

The eleven luminaries remain silent, observing. Judging.

“They think I’ve done something to her, a diabolical thing. Then mutilated myself for more power. An abomination of a Gemini witch.”

Still the luminaries say nothing.

“But she was the one that slammed a wall between us. She’s the one that left me alone, screaming!" 

Some of the younger luminaries at the ends flinch at her tone, but the Premier Taurus Witch at her place in the center merely holds up her hand, settles them.

"My magic wants desperately to harmonize and all I had were the shrieking echoes of myself.”



For seven hours and thirty one minutes, Luminary Chacone headed the largest, most successful coven in history.

If the knowledge had stayed within their secret half world of magic and marvels, then it would have been a triumph. 

As it is, Luminary Chacone’s actions have brought unwanted attention from the shadowy government organization known as SHIELD.

The magician doesn’t look like anything special, Maria thinks on the opposite side of the glass. Nothing like Loki–grand robes and staff and regal demeanor–but perhaps that had more to do with his alien heritage than his magic.

If Maria had passed by this magician on the street, she wouldn’t even turn around. The magician looks absolutely normal. Absolutely human.

The magician waits, patiently, silently, as she has done since agents escorted her here. No demands for explanations. No pleads to go back. No questions.

How alarming.

This should Coulson’s job. For all that SHIELD is still cleaning up the literal alien invasion, this feels like a peace time interview, or even a recruitment.

But Coulson is dead, and Fury can only trust Maria to do this, never mind that she’s a battle commander and not the deft touch of whatever Coulson was.


Maria steels herself and enters, posture impeccable, and the magician reacts by blinking slow and sleepily at her.

“You did something,” Maria begins, a shaky start but not inaccurate, “During the invasion.”

The magician nods, open, “I protected those that I could.”

“More than that,” Maria responds, unable to find words for what she means to say.

SHIELD had experienced losses that day, of course, Coulson one of many. But only from the direct attack on the helicarrier. When the rift was open, monsters from across the universe raining chaos down, SHIELD stood firm. Agents stood back up from hits that should have taken them down, were able to do things that should have been beyond them. For several hours, SHIELD was undefeatable.

The magician huffed a soft but honestly amused sort of laugh, smile curling her mouth though her eyes continued to droop in exhaustion. “A matter of convenient coincidence,” she answers, though Maria hardly had a question formed. “My priority was to ensure that the building would be safe.” Again she laughs, or tries to, “I told everyone to believe that the shield would hold.”


A/N: The later bits are related to this long ago Avengers crossover. Just doing some “spring” cleaning of little ficlets and such on my computer.

“Our existence is a horror story told from the monsters perspective”

Ode to 11010201 AU ficlet (2018-11-12)

A/N: Continues from here.

“We destroy that which threatens our existence,” the stranger says, after she pulls Zim and, belatedly, Kevin to their feet. She is far more reluctant in healing Kevin, or perhaps the curse had dug itself into him more thoroughly, the uprooting all the more hollowing for it, because he hardly speaks on their long trudge back to Doc Kaiza’s clinic.

“What does that have to do with–”

“But that’s so subjective, don’t you think, octant?” the stranger interrupts Zim, easily guiding them through the trees towards civilization, almost familiar with the forest trails, though he’s sure he’s never seen her in town before. “Our existence as in our lives or our lifestyles? Threatens as in physical danger or mental stress or even financial threat? All this subjectivity, and yet never do we interpret destroy as anything but kill.”

Zim doesn’t understand, stays nearly as quiet as Kevin whose arm is warm and pliant over his shoulders, footsteps stumbling in Zim’s own.

The stranger looks at him, at them–Zim and Kevin, stumbling and covered in dirt and leaves–with a smile on her face. “You nearly killed yourself today, octant. Over some normal human.”

At those words, Zim can feel irritation flare, his grip on Kevin tightening, protective. “Kevin’s not just some normal human, he’s my best friend! I had to save him. I had to!”

Her smile grows wider, “He has no magic. He’s as normal a human can get,” she says, “But I’m not criticizing you, octant. It’s good that you went so far to save him. It’s good that you found a way to purge the curse without killing your friend…”

His temper cools, though he still keeps his grip on Kevin’s arm steady.

“It’s good that my sister raised you away from the clan,” she concludes, before shrugging and walking ahead, trees giving way to the roads on the outskirts of town, ignoring the informational bomb she dropped behind her.

“Y-your sister?” Zim asks with barely concealed hope, rushing to catch up to her and dragging Kevin along with him.

The stranger–or, perhaps something, someone else–glances back at him before turning ahead once more. If there is emotion in her voice, he can’t hear it, but maybe there is something to be read in the line of her shoulders, her stance, her pace. “Yes,” the stranger says, a sigh and a pause, “Your mother.”


A/N: Very belated and very short response to what might be a misinterpretation of your prompt, @wildtabbykat. Sorry!

But I am going to try to get back to writing because goodness knows I’ve not been in practice. I did write a script for the Bindlestiff’s Valentine’s show, but I’ve not heard anything back so it’s likely it wasn’t chosen. Which is… disappointing but not surprising as I didn’t really think it was my best work anyway :/

Anyway, I STILL have three remaining prompts from the ask box things you said event (which has been going on for LITERAL MONTHS) which I will hopefully fill and then do a different ask box event or soooomething so as to get that good good writing exercise.


A/N: Final piece, both created and chronologically. I’m quite aware that many of these “voicemails” were waaaaaay too long to be actual voicemails, but I think the further along I got the more I discovered what the story I was trying to tell was, and the more of that story I tried to fit.

It’s unstated, but hopefully implied that R is drunk for this one.

I hope you enjoyed this mini-series, scattered and unorganized as it was.


8 – R to Iris – 1 Year

Hey, Iris… It’s been, um, it’s been, uh, a year since our… dad… died and… since we’ve… spoken. Not that that’s, um, more important than our, you know, our-our father dying, just, um, it seems that they are just linked… together… and I, um… I thought it would be–I just wanted to acknowledge it with… someone who would understand. But I guess maybe… that’s not you either since… I don’t understand… you… anymore… or if I ever did…

‘Cause to me it just seems like when dad died you… did… too. ‘Cause I lost both of you at the same time and… it… might as well… be true because… I mean… right? Like, you might… you might as well be–

I d-… I don’t want to be angry anymore. And-and I’m not angry anymore if–if… You know different… different people deal with loss… differently… and, um… I guess that just means I… You dealing with it in your way means that I have to deal with the double the loss in… my own way and I guess that includes leaving voicemails to someone who doesn’t care… So… 

Probably you’re not listening to this… I don’t even know where the fuck you are… I’m just–statistically you’re probably closer to dad’s grave than I am, so if you could–if you could put like some kind of fucking f-bouquet or whatever… Talk to his buried corpse… and the nice shiny rock that cost a lot to have his name on it–if-if you could do that, because I’m… I’m not there and I’m… Hell, maybe-maybe you’re not there either–I don’t know what I’m saying anymore I’m… 

Yeah, it’s been a year! It’s been a year, Iris! It has been. A. Year…  I don’t know, Iris, I don’t know what happened… to us… to…

I don’t know… okay… I-… this is me saying goodbye to you for… for–for real o-or, you know, closure or–something–or…

Goodbye, Iris.


A/N: 7 of 8–in which I forget the words “embezzlement,” “fraud,” and “suspicious.”


7 – R to Patrick – 5 months

Hi Patrick, it’s R… um… oh, geez, it’s late. Uh. Sorry about calling… outside of work hours… and… at… two thirty in the morning. Um. I guess I could have waited? Until we were both at the office to let you know but, um, I just–I just found it and I just thought it’d be good to inform you as soon as possible, um, that there is uh… so you know… in regards to the, um, Pine Star Group? Uh, I would suggest we… look… elsewhere because their financials are a little bit… hinky. I mean, I guess that’s not the professional words I would use… to describe it, but there’s something fishy with their financials and it–I-I do not think we can take on that kind of liability, um, I can–I have the documents, um, with me and obviously I can show them to you… tomorrow, or I guess later today, in… the office… but, um… basically their, um… yeah. 

They’re shifting a lot of money… around… and there’s not–I can’t tell where… it went. Which, I mean, my first instinct is, um… well, no, I was–I was gonna say maybe they just have bad math, but it–it’s prob–it’s probably like… they’re probably like… skimming from their own company right? Like that’s–that’s probably what that is? That’s–that’s–I mean, that’s–we can’t–we can’t trust them–we can’t… 

Anyways! I will speak to you… tomorro–today–in the office–okay, have a good night, um, morning–have a good–bye!


A/N: 6 of 8… you can tell the longer I was stuck in traffic the worse I got 😛


6 – R to Patrick – 3 months

Hi this is R Chacone, I’m calling back for, um, to Patrick regarding the voice message I got earlier today, regarding–wait, um, wha, I–regarding the, uh, job opening? Um, the-the resources? Um. Yeah, I’m–I just wanted to let you know that I am still interested and definitely available to, um, uh, yes. I would like to accept–

Ah fuck it. Um, I’ll just email. Delete message.


A/N: 5 of 8!


5 – R to Iris – 4 months

Iris. I don’t know where you are. I haven’t heard from you in months…

And, um… you know? I’m finally getting the message. You don’t want to talk anymore… and that’s… I mean, that’s–that’s on you. Just–just so you know, that’s on you. But, um, I’m gonna–I still want–you’re my sister, okay? So, even if you don’t want to talk, I still… just in case you ever do…

I’m calling because I’m moving, um, I-I’ll still keep this number in case you ever… change your mind… but, um… I’m moving and, um… I guess geographically and, you know, uh… life… 

I–this’ll be the last time, I think, because… at least from my end, because you’ve made it clear that… you don’t want there to be… anything from your end, so…

It. You’re still my sister… you are still… my sister… Bye Iris.


A/N: 4 of 8 or the Ode to 11010201 voicemails series–halfway done!


4 – R to Iris – 2 months

Iris, call me back. You can’t just hide from everything, okay? We’ll deal with this together, just–just call me back, okay? And then we’ll figure things out. And then everything can just go back to normal, okay?

… okay, I love you. Okay, bye.


A/N: 3 of 8 in the Ode to 11010201 voicemail series! Also, I don’t know why I always end up with Disney Channel references. -_-


3 – R’s failed voicemails – 11 months

Hi, you’ve reached R Chacone the, uh–fuck.

Hi, you’ve reached R Chacone, the Chief Resource Officer of–wait, do I?–fuck.

Hi, you’ve reached R Chacone, the desk of me–shit.

Hi, you’ve reached the voice mail box–what? no, what? god, no–okay.

This is R Chacone and you’re… fucking watching Disney Channel or some–what the? what am I saying? God, okay.


A/N: 2 of 8 in the weird Ode to 11010201 voicemails


2 – R to Patrick – 7 months

Hey Patrick this is R! I’m, uh, stuck in traffic but you probably know that because I’m not in the office and I should be as… a… you know… dutiful employee should be at this time. Anyways, I was just calling to let you know, um–obviously I’m late–if you could let the Mathieson company, uh, the-their people–oh god–um, if you could let them know that I will be in as soon as possible and, you know, just stall for time, maybe… um… I mean, I–to be honest, if you want to just go ahead with the meeting without me you—I’m pretty sure you know the, uh, info better than I do, and, uh, as evidenced by this voicemail you are more, uh, eloquent and will probably… solidify this deal… sooner… and better than I–anyways! That’s not why I’m calling… yeah… did–sh-should I pick up anything on my way in? I mean, given the state of traffic, it’ll probably be lunchtime by the time I get back to the office… Okay! Call me back!


A/N: I was stuck in absolutely terrible traffic a few weeks ago, and in order to prevent myself from frothing about enraged, I recorded a series of voicemails on my phone set in the Ode to 11010201 ‘verse. So not the best quality in any way, shape, or form.

I’ll be posting them in order of creation, not necessarily chronological order, so… enjoy?


1 – R to Iris – 8 months

Hey Iris, it’s R. Um. I know that I said that I would stop calling you, uh, but, it’s been 8 months since we’ve spoken and a lot has happened since then. Um you–you might know that, uh, I moved… to New York. I um, I have a new job. They, um. They, uh, they seem to really like me here for some reason. They, um. They seem really close to each other and I–I like that, you know? I’m not very good at making friends, but I think I could be friends with these–with my coworkers–and they seem… They seem like family, and I guess that’s why I’m calling because… you know… how–how weird it is to be… almost family with these–these people that I’m being paid to work alongside when I haven’t even spoken to my real family in eight… months… I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing and if, maybe, you know, just start up the conversation again. Or, just, start one at all… You’re probably wondering why I’m calling now instead of… you know, earlier, like, um, I mean I–you know, um, our birthday was two months ago… yeah. That, um, that happened. And, um, I didn’t call you then, but, um, in my defense you didn’t call me either so… I guess we’re both a little bit at fault for that one, aren’t we? I, um… shit.

Erase message.