Ode to 11010201 AU ficlet (2018-08-04)

A/N: Continues from here


Zim wakes up on the ground, aching and stiff and what he imagines having a hangover is like, but he wakes up and that’s all that matters. He breathes and regrets it, feels like he’s burned his lungs. Feels like he’s burned everything really, even air seems to scrape against his raw nerves.

He struggles to turn, spots Kevin and painstakingly crawls that way. His fingers shake checking on his best friend–what if Zim was too late? What if the curse had hooked itself too deeply? What if taking the curse from Kevin killed him anyway?–but there is warm skin and a steady pulse and all that there is room for in his heart is relief.

“Impressive, octant,” says a voice Zim doesn’t recognize. He turns toward the sound even though his muscles screech in protest, he is tired from even that minimal effort, panting, pressing his cheek into the ground.

There are an unfamiliar pair of shoes not even a yard away, “Risky as fuck and terribly inefficient, but impressive nonetheless,” says the person attached to the unfamiliar shoes.

The unfamiliar legs bend, lowering an unfamiliar body and an unfamiliar head with an unfamiliar face attached so that Zim can see the stranger.

Unsurprisingly, Zim asks, “Who are you?” Voice rasping out from his damaged throat.

The stranger shrugs, dismisses his question, asks one of her own, “What made you think you could survive the curse, octant?”

This time, Zim shrugs. Or tries to. More of an attempt to twitch his shoulder, leading into a full body flinch, which causes him to groan in pain into the dirt.

The stranger sighs as if Zim were purposely avoiding her question. As if this were all a ploy to get out of it.

She presses a to his forehead, mutters something too low, too quick for him to parse, and a cool wave washes over him. No more pain.

“Better?” The stranger asks, and Zim nods, too surprised to be anything but truthful. “Now if you don’t mind, octant, answer my question.”

That’s the third time the stranger has called him that, but he keeps that confusion to himself.

“I didn’t,” he croaks. At her confused furrowed brow, he elaborates, “I didn’t think.”

Rather than look skeptical, as the doc might, or irritated, like Belinda, or even horrified, as Kevin will be when Zim tells him what happened, the stranger huffs a quick, soft laugh. A smile curves her mouth, almost fond, “Yeah, why am I not surprised?”

Zim thinks that’s something he would like to know, too, actually, but the stranger continues–both answering and confusing him further.

“Oh, octant, you’re just like your mother.”

Ode to 11010201 AU ficlet (2018-07-30)

The curse is spreading through Kevin’s body–poison coursing through his veins–and the only counter Zim and the doc have managed to find is death of the host. That’s one shitty cure.

But Zim’s been able to burn it away, use the hosts’ hearts as foundation, turn his penchant for literal fire into a more figurative, ethereal fire. He has an idea, a desperate, foolish hope, but if he can’t save Kevin then what’s the point of doing all that work? All that research? What’s the point of being magic if he can’t protect the people he cares about?

Doc Kaiza isn’t here to stop him–she’s back at the clinic, more research and calling on her contacts, too slow for what matters–and so it’s just Zim and Kevin and the eldritch entity steadily, thoroughly, working its way through Kevin’s being.

If Zim can’t stop it here and now–before Kaiza makes the call, the final decision to sacrifice the one for the whole of humanity–then Kevin will die. One way or another.

One way or another, Zim is going to prevent that.

“You can’t make fun of me for this,” Zim says to whatever is left of Kevin in Kevin’s body, “For at least two weeks, okay?”

Kevin doesn’t say anything, because the eldritch entity has already taken control of that part of him–an hour ago it made a horrifying screech which shook the town–but his nose crinkles in a familiar tic of confusion, and that’s good. That’s great. That’s all Zim needed.

So he darts forward, shoves a hand over Kevin’s nose–because that at least, in part, is still his, still human, even as the rest of his him lashes out with more power and wrongness than should be possible–and waits for the body to open its mouth. Either to breathe, if it still has to, or to screech once more, defending its terrible existence.

When it does, Zim seals his mouth over it. Less like a kiss and more like he’s trying to literally eat Kevin’s face, a giant bite intended to swallow down more than the chili cheese fries from the Tommy’s Burgers on Orchard Street.

The entity shrieks and it travels directly into Zim, down his throat and into his lungs, the force of it rattling and ominous. But Zim doesn’t stop. He inhales, he pulls, from Kevin into himself, curse drawn within bronchioles to capillaries to heart where his internal fire lives.

Kevin’s body drops to the ground, and Zim would check on him but it’s not done yet. The fight’s still going.

The curse is no longer in Kevin. That’s good, that’s the best thing that could happen. Now Kevin won’t have to die.

Now the curse is in Zim.

He doesn’t scream. Doesn’t have the extra energy to scream. Has to focus on damming the flow, shoring up his very being because the eldritch entity is hungry and not one for mercy.

Zim’s magic manifests itself as fire. Zim can use the hearts of hosts to burn away the curse. Zim’s magic lives in his heart.

He will burn the curse out of himself.

Survival is secondary.


A/N: I have a few more ask box things you said prompts in my ask box and I swear I will get to them, but considering my really bad writing habits lately I figured something unrelated to the ask box event was better than nothing?

This isn’t “canon” Ode to 11010201–if anything can be considered canon for that WIP original ‘verse–but I have an idea and needed to write it, but I didn’t even get to the scene that I wanted to but I needed to stop here because it’s nearly four in the morning and I have work in a few hours so hopefully I’ll still remember what I wanted to get to after I sleep and do stuff later today.

Also, maybe don’t get your hopes up about my writing schedule resuming normal levels because I was cast in an upcoming Bindlestiff show even though I was only supposed to design lights so I will be busy again.


Word Prompts (D7): Dealing

There’s a card on your window when you wake up in the morning, eight pointed star and smaller, repeating fractals in alternating black and white and silver.

The scariest thing isn’t that you recognize the symbol–though it’s been years since you’ve seen it–but that the card is on your window.

On the inside of your window.

They were inside your house.

They’ve found you.


When you were younger, you were praised for being powerful, for being smart, for being charming.

“You’d be a wonderful spell caster,” your mother said.

“What about a summoner?” your aunt offered instead.

“Healers are always in high demand and greatly regarded,” your grandmother added, and you nodded in agreement.

You could have been anything, but you chose to be a diviner.

You chose wrong.


As the abilities of individual witches grew–tied to the earth or bloodlines or other tangible, reachable things–beliefs changed.

Religion became superstition became silly old bedtime stories.

The gods were forgotten and the divine faded from memory.

Or so the public thinks.


You can’t hide from them forever.

You never thought you could.

Ode to 11010201 -> Heritage Script Brainstorming, 1/? (2017-08-16)

I need to stream of conscious type this thing, because I’ve decided what I want to do for my first attempt at a full length script, but I don’t want to commit it to a word document just yet until I have it managed better in my brain. I used to do these kinds of things on my livejournal, but seeing as how the base of it is mostly on here, I figured for tagging/research purposes it’d be nice to put it here.

Also, missed posts are no good so…

Ode to 11010201 is a thinly veiled reference to my life, or what might have been my life in a world with magic. I am R and Zim is a nephew that I don’t have because if he were to have existed then he would already be five years old.

And so, the thing is, the idea of them being magical. Of them sharing magic, of using the term “gemini” to describe people who shared magic is very… American of me. Like, how America likes to tout about democracy (which isn’t really) and borrow Greek terms to make things sound more sophisticated or classical, when in fact, I imagine, that in a world of magic actual Greek witches would not use the Western Zodiac as a classification system.

They’d probably use Greek Mythology–like, earth witches in America would be Taurus witches, but in Greece they’d be called followers of Demeter or something like that. And it struck me that I know more about Greek Mythology and the Western Zodiac/astrology than I do about Filipino mythology and deities.

Which. Well. The series of invasions/conquering/imperializing/colonizing/occupation definitely didn’t help with that. The Philippines is caught in a struggle between Christianity and Islam, never mind that at their core both religions worship the same god. The same monotheistic, omnipotent, omnipresent god.

But that’s not what this is about.

Since Ode to 11010201 is based on me, I might as well flavor it even more with myself and make R Filipino-American, and Zim mixed. And the idea to contrast that with a Filipino immigrant who knows the ways of magic as their ancestors would have known it… and is still trapped in the American labeling: the Premier Taurus witch, who I had only vaguely considered being Faye Lin nee Peridot in the Court and Council ficlet…

Which. Well, seeing as how she blames Doctor Kaiza for the disappearance of her sister, Leanne, kind of gave an interesting parallel to R’s own search for her sister which I hadn’t really considered more fully until recently.

So the idea for the play that I have is more set in the Ot1 Redux ‘verse, with the main cast being Kaiza, Zim, R, and Faye–the latter two being called by their respective Council positions, Gemini and Taurus.

It starts much as the first Redux ficlet did, with Kaiza announcing to Zim that the Premier Gemini Witch would be coming to town.

Except it’s a much bigger deal because even if Zim doesn’t know much about magic–he’s the only witch in the region, even Kaiza, technically isn’t a witch, though she’s lived long enough to pick up some tricks and such–he knows that usually council luminaries only show up when something has gone wrong.

They don’t govern, they don’t dictate. They only mete out judgement when magical crimes have been committed.

And so, thinking that it’s a professional reason why she’s coming, Zim (and Kaiza, a little bit) are scared. And R, Gemini, that is, makes a good show of it. She’s only here searching for a particular witch. One who’s been shielding herself for almost two decades, who she has been trying to track down for nearly as long.

Which, obviously, construes to Zim as a criminal searching thing.

Except as time passes, more and more details are dropped, and it’s revealed that R/Gemini is not here in a professional capacity but a personal one. The witch she is looking for is her sister, who has only recently begun using her half of their shared magic. And she knows she’s here, she can feel it, but for some reason the scrying spells aren’t working (because she’s not scrying for the right things, or because Zim is in the same room as her when she’s scrying) and it’s been weeks.

She’s not allowed to renege on her duties for so long.

Because the role of luminary is just that, a duty. Not a privilege. It goes to the strongest witch of each category not because they want it, but because they’re the only ones with the ability to enforce punishments and tie together a new and chaotic society.

Btw, dunno if I wrote this already, but the idea is that magic had existed before, but went dormant for a very long time, and only awoke in the last century. More specifically, when Faye Peridot was a teenager. More specifically, when Leanne Peridot’s abilities went from cool party trick to bending the laws of physics. The Council was an attempt to bring peace at the sudden resurgence of magic.

I mean, I don’t know if I want the Counterclockwise backstory to be so specifically translated into the script–whereas this script will be as close to Ot1 as I can get–but the Peridot family were supposed to be descended from dryads and in pre-Spain Philippines, diwata were the main spirits invoked for good fortune, health, crops etc and they live in trees and if that isn’t some kind of sign that, hey, maybe they’re a family of Filipino immigrants then I don’t know what… I may have to tweak their background somewhat, though.

I mean, Peridot isn’t exactly a Filipino last name, now is it?

It could be something that got Americanized, though. Pamulaklakin means “to make bloom” which would fit and is long enough where someone could have just gotten tired and said. Slap some other P word on it. Or one of those families who did get renamed when the Spanish came, and Peridot in Spanish is just Peridoto so…

I’ll figure it out.

Sorry, I did say it’d be a stream of consciousness… honestly if anyone’s made it this far, I’m very surprised, this is mostly just rambling for my future self.

Uh, anyway. So:


Act One would be Kaiza and Zim reacting to Gemini’s arrival. And the slow discovery of magic and family and the history of the world. It would end with Taurus’s arrival (a sort of bigger villain in the way of television shows, I suppose) who demands that Gemini come back and resume her duties.

Act Two would be a little more fraught. A lot of backstory for why exactly Gemini has no idea where her sister is until now. Taurus’ dislike of Kaiza. Possibly a red herring about how maybe Kaiza is eating them to power her immortality (which is, in her opinion, not something to be desired and thus absolute nonsense)…

Act Three would be the reveal about what happened to Taurus’ sister?

… or, wait, no… hm…

My sister says (ironically, the one that corresponds to the one R is looking for) that there’s no urgency to it.

Like. Why now? Why this story at this time with these people?

– Zim has only recently found out he has magic.

– As the closest thing to a witch in his area, Kaiza has stepped him to loosely teach what magic she knows to him.

– Gemini, feeling the other half of her magic being used for the first time in nearly two decades, takes leave from her duties as a luminary of The Council and goes across country to find her sister (who had sealed off her half of the magic two decades ago after some kind of fall out?** NEED TO CLARIFY)

… but still. Why now?

– Because there was a case before The Council which had been too harsh, which her words hadn’t been able to spare a witch who had made a small mistake, and so she seized this opportunity. She is the newest and youngest member of The Council, but only by default (Gemini witches are rare). Surely they would want to the complete set.

and then… ugh, shit.

I’ll continue in another part, maybe…

Ode to 11010201 Redux, Fire and Water (2017-07-18)

My mom loved fireworks, the flashing lights and the colors, the patterns made in the sky. She loved the whistle as it went up, the way the boom reverberated in your lungs–she loved to shout along with it. The lingering shapes of smoke left over and how it reminded people to look up, made them children staring in amazed wonderment.

And she always got us the best seats in the house, “being part of the Fire Brigade has its perks,” she’d say, swinging me up into her arms, never mind my eternally sticky hands.

Children always have sticky hands for some reason.

She had a dangerous job, but she had a passion for it. Respected what fire could do, but didn’t fear it.

She didn’t die in a fire.

Sometimes I wonder whether that would have been better or worse.

Zim invites the Premier Gemini Witch–R, she’s asked to be called, and he’s trying, he swears–out to join him and his friends to the Independence Day festival. Maybe she’ll refuse, they’re still mostly strangers temporarily sharing the same work space, and he doesn’t know the exact age difference between them, but it does exist.

Still, he can’t say he didn’t offer.

And it seems sad to him, imagining the Premier Gemini Witch all on her own at the clinic, tirelessly searching for her sister to no avail.

She hesitates, staring at him as if she could read his mind–which, maybe? She is a luminary–before nodding and organizing her table for the day.

Zim, somewhat self-consciously, glances over the mountain of junk on his worktable.

Eh. He’ll fix it later.

His friends don’t mind the tagalong; some mild greetings aside they mostly ignore her.

Which seems a little irreverent considering her position in magical society, but the Premier Gemini Witch doesn’t seem to mind. Actually, she seems to prefer it, what with the lack of formal introductions.

“You can just call me R,” she says, before consuming what must be half her weight in festival food.

The third chili cheeseburger–after four pork tamales, two large packets of curly fries, an order of takoyaki, and three giant cups of different specialty lemonades–is when he feels comfortable and vaguely horrified enough to actually call her R.

His friends reached that point way earlier.

“Where do you fit it all?” Belinda asks, squinting, as if through sheer force of will she could see the tapeworm R must have.

R shrugs, unashamed, and says “I need a lot of energy.”

Well, considering she’s been running a search spell constantly for the past three weeks, he’s not surprised.

When the fireworks go off, she flinches, mouth turned down tight. But still she looks skyward, mesmerized, unblinking even as tears start to fall down her face.

“My sister loves fireworks,” R says, in between little gasping sobs. Kevin hands over a handkerchief which she presses over her eyes, Belinda shoots glares at anyone who looks their way askance.

“I don’t understand. Why can’t I find her? What if I can’t find her?”

Zim puts a hand on her shoulder, but says nothing.

What could I have possibly said?


A/N: Don’t worry anon, I saw your ask! But I just got home and I’d like to ponder it a bit before filling it. I had this almost done so I decided to finish it off so I wouldn’t have a missed post today.

The Ask Box Author’s Cut event is still on!

I love all your works and while I did originally come by because of fanfiction, my favorite piece of your work is the one about Doctor Kaiza before she was Doctor Kaiza. I was the one who asked for 18, Counterclockwise and I don’t think I ever told you but I loved that piece. It blew me away and satisfied my curiosity about Doctor Kaiza.

Aw, shucks, you’re spoiling me… (ノ*゜▽゜*)

Actually, thanks for prompting that ficlet, anon, it helped me learn more about Kaiza, too, especially her progression to the woman that she is “today” and how immortality changes people.

Here’s an unwritten headcanon ficlet (are they still headcanons if it’s for an original character?) for Doctor Ellen Tsukiko Kaiza because while she’s still mostly a mystery to me, there are some details about her background which I’ve been meaning to share. Enjoy!


Witches don’t like her.

That’s fine. She doesn’t much like witches either. The way they act as if their power actually means anything to her, like thunder in front of a mountain. She was immortal long before the resurgence of magic, ancient before they cobbled together laws and customs; children playing at adulthood.

Little Faye Peridot still hates and fears her for taking away her sister. She’s the oldest luminary on the Premier Witch Council.

Power is not what earns Kaiza’s respect and she’s lived so long, age means nothing to her.


Brian becomes her ward mostly by accident. It is one of her many regrets.

If she had been more proactive about it, more clear about her affection for him, more available and open, less cold and objective, would anything have changed?

Probably not. And even so, it’s too late.

If she’s learned one thing over the centuries it’s that the only thing as bad as immortality inflicted on mortals is the ability to time travel.

There be dragons, but at least dragons can be killed.


“Have mercy on me,” Nyx says, as elegantly out of place in Kaiza’s clinic as ever, “don’t you have any sympathy for a worried mother?”

It’d help Nyx’s case more if she didn’t sound like she were reading from a particularly bland phonebook.

“If ever I did,” Kaiza shoots back, “I’d have used it up on some other mother in far more need of it than you.”

The list is long, there were tears and threats and fruitless, desperate bargaining. Kaiza has done worse to less deserving mothers, has felt guilt for greater crimes.

“Suck it up, your daughter is going to school, not to war. She doesn’t need me playing guardian angel… And plus, mercy’s not really your thing, now is it?”

No, she doesn’t have any sympathy for Nyx, the best Devil’s Advocate on this plane and the next.


She is so old that werewolf pack boundaries build around her, not the other way around. The Delano Pack to the northeast, with the sprawling forests and rocky mountains, the Chand Pack to the southwest towards Cadmium City and the coast.

Her clinic and, by extension, the town of Belleview which also grew around her is not neutral territory. It’s her territory.

Or so the alphas of both packs say, shoulders back and nostrils flared. Ready to fight her, each other, anyone who so much as makes eye contact.

Peace between packs is more important than her growing irritation, but only just.

“You might as well just combine packs. Then there wouldn’t be anymore boundary issues,” she says, exasperated by all the useless back and forth. She may be needling them just a little: she almost wants a fight to break out just so she has a reason to smack them down.

Instead, both alphas respond with considering noises.

In three decades she will be reluctantly impressed by their chosen heir.


Every year, on the anniversary of her curse, she gets an envelope from Grey Investigations.

What a waste of paper, she thinks, as she throws it away. Jack should know better by now.

But Jack always was an optimistic idiot.

It’s what got them cursed in the first place.


Check out the Ask Box Author’s Cut event!

I just wanted to say that your Court and Counsel snippet was sooooo good! The slow introduction of information was an interesting draw, and made the ending that much more anticipated. The outsider’s pov was key to that I guess, and was a cool choice. I also like how the world was completely different to ours but you managed not to make it confusing despite that. It’s a really interesting universe

(ノ*゜▽゜*) Oh my gosh, thank you! This such a sweet review, I cannot stop smiling.

I was a little worried about posting Court and Counsel at all because it’s set so firmly within a ‘verse that I haven’t clearly written (or… figured out) yet and I wasn’t sure if it would be too referential to things that were only inside my mind. So I’m glad there was a steady enough introduction of information to understand without completely giving away the twist.

Thanks again, pokeberry5, I’m glad you enjoyed it! 😀

Ode to 11010201 Redux, Court and Counsel (2017-06-30)

Phineas Park was an Asian-American second generation immigrant, an associate lawyer of Manson, Pataki & Sanchez, and a witch.

He did not always think of himself as such in that particular order or that combination of facts.

Still, they were pertinent details about himself which remained in his mind for the duration of the court case.

Law in the magical society was nowhere near so meticulous or empty as law in the non-magical society. No firm government and no strict regulations meant that magicians could do as they pleased until another magician found their actions reprehensible.

And even then, most cases were relegated to the local authority–witch coven, vampire clan, werewolf pack, et cetera–unless a truly heinous crime had been committed or no single local authority could make a fair and unbiased judgement.

In such circumstances, the case would be brought before the Premier Witch Council.

If he were to be frank, Phineas would have preferred a different case for his first lead–magical or not.

He was excited about finally being lead, that was not in question, but to be the defendant for that particular witch for that particular crime was not one that he would have jumped given the choice.

Well, any case before the Premier Witch Council was one to be seized with both hands, immediately, regardless of the moral ambiguity contained within.

But he was pretty sure he set himself up to lose.

Witch lawyers weren’t terribly rare–words and willpower bringing about concrete change–though there was not yet an entirely witch law firm.

Still, there was a reasonable sized pool of witch lawyers that the Premier Witch Council could summon as needed.

They were needed.

“I bring before the esteemed luminaries of the Premier Witch Council the case of the Red River Coven versus Helen Monroe.”

Phineas risked a glance at his client and regretted it immediately. Monroe did not look at all troubled at being sued by her former coven in front of the Premier Witch Council. Normally, he’d appreciate such confidence and borrow some secondhand himself, but Monroe was so beyond confident it was falling into bored, dismissive, and just plain rude.

This was not the contrite, humbled client he was hoping for.

Another glance to his other side–where the head of the Red River Coven and her lawyer sat–made it even worse.

Still, so long as he stuck to the plan, he and Monroe had a chance.

“My fellow luminaries,” the Premier Taurus Witch said from her seat, centermost and highest as befitting her seniority, “if there is any one among us who cannot pass judgement fairly and without bias on this day, let them speak.”

There was barely a pause. That statement generally was a matter of formality–there had only been four cases in the history of the Premier Witch Council that a luminary opted to defer their judgement.

“Then let us–”

“My apologies, fellow luminaries,” interrupted the Premier Gemini Witch. She sat at the very end as youngest and newest luminary, but her placement was not a reflection of a lack of influence or power.

“I am… emotionally compromised for this case,” the Premier Gemini Witch continued, unheeding of the surprised looks it garnered her, “I will forgo my judgement.”

The Premier Gemini Witch was known to be liberal in terms of subspecies interaction and innovative takes on magic.

It was a stretch to consider his client’s actions as such, but that had been the basis of Phineas’ argument.

Even Monroe was beginning to look worried.

They were fucked.

The case of the Red River Coven v Helen Monroe was not important as a legal precedent.

Monroe had come across a lone werewolf who had attacked and harmed–under the frenzy of a full moon and without the stabilizing presence of a pack–a group of non-magical people in the territory of the Red River Coven.

Regardless of her intent or thought process, Monroe proceeded to hide said werewolf from her coven, and experiment in spells that she referred to as “calming.”

The head of the Red River Coven described them as “controlling.”

If that had been all, that case would not have been brought before the Premier Witch Council, and Phineas would not have been involved leading to his first time as lead being besmirched.

That was not all.

The Delano Pack was one of the oldest, strongest, and most prestigious in the nation. In its prime, it was said to have an influence on par with the Premier Witch Council, and helped lead the magical society forward to the current age of cooperation and progress. The Delano Pack was, without question, the greatest werewolf pack in the nation’s history and had once had a strong bid for international history as well.

Was. Had. All past tense.

Nearly a decade ago, the Delano Pack suffered a great loss and was a shell of its former self, holding onto its territory more out of respect from its neighbors than any real ability to enforce it.

Not a bad place for a witch and her guinea wolf to flee.

The Delano Pack declined to send a representative, but its members had sent witness statements.

They did not help Phineas whatsoever.

Monroe, with werewolf thrall in tow, had stumbled onto some of the newer members of the Delano Pack. In her surprise, the control spell she had on her lone werewolf broke, causing him to attack what he saw as the immediate threats.

The members of the Delano Pack defended themselves and, arguably, so did Monroe.

Monroe, as seen with her werewolf thrall, specialized in mind magics.

For three months–rather than explain the situation and request clemency from the Delano Pack, or even admit her crimes and return to face justice with her original coven–Monroe maintained an amnesia spell on the pack, centered around one member in particular: the Delano Pack’s only witch.

“I thought he was a regular human,” Monroe explained, as if her methodology were the problem, “Obviously, if I had known he was a witch, too, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Phineas winced.

“It still took him a while to break it, though,” Monroe continued, to which Phineas began gesturing for her to stop, sharp pulls of his hand across his throat.

She wasn’t looking. The prosecutor could not have looked more pleased.

“Clearly not very well trained. Though given the closest thing to a witch in that territory is Kaiza, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Some of the luminaries reacted to the name: a roll of the eyes from those who saw Kaiza as only playing at magic, a deep furrowing of her brows from the Premier Taurus Witch.

But the Premier Gemini Witch’s expression had flattened even before Kaiza had been mentioned.

When they were younger, their relatives thought that Phineas and his sister Phryne would be gemini witches. Or, rather, dragon-phoenix twins.

While they hadn’t been actual fraternal twins, they had been born in the same lunar year, and for the longest time had resonating magic.

Then it turned out that Phineas was a libra witch and Phryne a scorpio witch, and the matter had been dropped.

Siblings often had resonating magic, learning the same spells and living in the same house, the same blood coursing through their veins.

But gemini witches were something beyond just resonance, a magic that was both shared and compounded between two people that, yes, were more often than not siblings.

But not always.

The prosecutor, who was a wily piece of shit, decided to hammer the final nail in Phineas’ coffin by asking one final question.

“If I may address the esteemed luminaries directly,” she asked, and with a impatient wave from the Premier Taurus Witch continued, “For what reason did the Premier Gemini Witch forgo her judgement?”

A blatant grab for extra testimony which would never be allowed in a nonmagical court… mostly because in nonmagical courts, the jury was not also the judge and the systems were entirely different.

The Premier Gemini Witch paused, recognizing the obvious manipulation, but capitulated when no further word from the Premier Taurus Witch was said. She steeled her jaw and responded simply, “A gemini witch’s greatest strength is also their greatest weakness.”

For a moment, the court was silent. Uncomprehending. That was a basic fact about gemini witches which didn’t answer the question at all.

Until, after another moment, it clicked in Phineas’ mind. He turned to his client: Monroe, finally, belatedly, began to look horrified at what she had done.

The case of the Red River Coven v Helen Monroe was not important as a legal precedent.

The case of the Red River Coven v Helen Monroe was not important because of the parties involved.

The case of the Red River Coven v Helen Monroe was only important in that it was the first and only case in which a luminary’s reason for deferring their judgement was because the defendant had committed a greater crime than even they knew.


A/N: Getting this out of my head so I can focus on Externality, but I hope y’all enjoy anyway!

Ode to 11010201 Redux (2017-06-28)

“The Premier Gemini Witch is coming to Belleview next week,” Doctor Kaiza said, apropos of nothing.

Zim, carefully organizing all of the potion ingredients in a chromatic gradient, shrugged and gave an uncertain and noncommittal, “Okay.”

Kaiza didn’t say anything further because clarification burned her lungs and withered her soul. Or so Zim theorized.

In her defense, it wasn’t as if he asked for an explanation.

That was a mistake.

The Premier Gemini Witch, capital letters practically audible, was tiny. A good foot and a half shorter than Zim–which, perhaps, wasn’t saying much since Zim was stringy and stretched out like the best kind of grilled cheese–which also put her eye level below Doctor Kaiza’s chin, even.

The Premier Gemini Witch was also surprisingly young.

“The youngest luminary on the council,” she agreed, so absent of tone that it was only fact, not brag.

The weirdest thing about all of it wasn’t that the Premier Gemini Witch had such a large presence despite her age and size, but that Kaiza was giving in to it and fawning over her.

Well, a cup of tea and a lack of paperwork or unimpressed eyebrows was practically fawning from the doctor.

Not even Nyx, a literal Devil’s Advocate, or Azrael–as in, yes, the actual Angel of Death–rated that kind of respect.

Zim seriously regretted not asking for more information.

The Premier Gemini Witch was one of twelve members of the Premier Witch Council. The council loosely ruled over the nation’s magical society: the luminaries weren’t a formal oligarchy, but they did have final say on large scale disputes and enforcement of the few laws that existed in their community. Less elected officials and more justices of the peace.

The luminaries were each the strongest of their kind, regardless of heritage or history or training. The Premier Taurus Witch was the strongest earth witch, an old woman over a century old and nearer to dryad than human. The Premier Sagittarius Witch was the only living being to have traveled beyond the planet’s atmosphere without billions of dollars, teams of scientists, tons of metal and rocket fuel, and a government agency.

The strangest thing about the Premier Gemini Witch was not that she had significant influence over the largest vampire clan in the nation–the two subspecies being notoriously at odds with each other–or that she had never undergone any kind of training before becoming a luminary. No, the strangest thing about the Premier Gemini Witch was that she was powerful enough to become a luminary despite only having access to half of her magic.

Traditionally, there were thirteen luminaries on the Premier Witch Council.

Traditionally, there were two Premier Gemini Witches.

The Premier Gemini Witch–“please, call me R”–would be staying in Belleview for one month.

If ever Zim had seen Doctor Kaiza nervous or flustered it was nothing compared to how she reacted to that news: bizarrely, coyly shy, like a teenage girl meeting her idol. Frankly? Zim was freaked the fuck out.

It wasn’t as if he bought into Kaiza’s emotionless, neutral reputation; he’d be a shitty sort-of student if he did–and her weird rivalry with Grey Investigations could only inspired by a level of pettiness born from the heart–but this was definitely a new side of the doctor that he had never seen before.

“But what is she here for?” Zim asked later, as he rearranged potion ingredients back to their original alphabetical organization under Kaiza’s displeased eye.

It was her turn to shrug, uncertain and noncommittal.

The Premier Gemini Witch was there to meet him.

The Premier Gemini Witch knew his mother.

The Premier Gemini Witch was his mother’s sister.

“I came to this town thinking I would reunite with my sister. Thinking that maybe the broken seal on our magic meant that she was willing to see me–willing to open communication, at least. But a year passed and nothing,” the Premier Gemini Witch–R, his aunt, his sister’s mother–said, voice curled around a heartbroken, resigned sigh.

His dad sometimes sounded like that, too, when he talked about Zim’s mom.

“And so I came to this town only to find that my sister has been dead for nearly a decade and I have a nephew whose magic I share but whose name I don’t even know.”

The Premier Gemini Witch–the second, missing Premier Gemini Witch–was Zim.


A/N: just a little redo of the Ot1 series, a different beginning and a different POV. Not as obviously adapted Teen Wolf fanfiction, maybe?

Will get back to Externality, no worries, this was written because I am on my phone and only have data not wi-fi.

Cross Post: Ode to 11010201, Prior Claim [incomplete] (2016-08-21)

A/N: Next couple of days will be incomplete posts set in my Ode To 11010201 series. Most of these were written back when the series was suuuper thinly veiled Teen Wolf fanfiction. Like the characters are so recognizable even though I’ve changed their names and swapped some roles around.

This one, in particular, is VERY obvious.

original here. dated 2013-05-22.


Though the unexpected magical ability was entirely odd, it was just another thing that she felt supplemented their burgeoning familial relationship. She was as clueless to their shared powers as he was, but it seemed to rid both of them of any lingering doubts. They were family now. Magical family, apparently, but still family. It explained some of their first encounter at any rate, his insistence that windchimes and a dropped length of rope would stop someone now seemed perfectly valid when magic could conceivably make those seemingly innocuous items a formidable defense. Though she hadn’t considered to ponder on who he was trying to keep out. Or what.

In her brief time with him, she had learned a little of his life. Knew that he wasn’t exactly popular by any means, but had a loyal best friend and long lasting crush on a girl and a dislike for someone who he wouldn’t name but referred to often enough in conversations and a penchant for trouble. It was the last that made her wonder about the rest. Because even though they had been getting along, there were just some things–some secrets–that couldn’t be brought up randomly even to a suddenly appearing family member.

It was during one of her solitary explorations of the town–Zim had bowed out of more familial bonding with an apologetic but desperate expression; she figured that space probably was needed on both ends and had reassured him that she didn’t feel slighted in the least–that she stumbled upon a group of people she really wouldn’t have thought were involved with her nephew until she picked up on their angry, loud, and unsubtle dialogue. Or rather, she stumbled into them.

Yes, just play it off as if she had tripped just to catch their attention. Not that she was just bad at basic coordination. The tear in her cardigan and bleeding elbow was definitely on purpose.

“How do you know Zim?” She asked, after her embarrassment and brief introductions.

“Bring her with you. Your chances of fixing your mistakes will increase,” The woman–a doctor from the looks of the white coat and the automatic offering of wet-wipe and bandage–gave a familiar, patronizing pat to the older boy’s–Tarek’s–head before walking away. From his expression, he was displeased at the world in general and at the dismissal in particular, but ultimately resigned. The younger boy–Kevin, same as Zim’s best friend– had wide eyes made even wider by concern, and looked less sure. About seemingly everything, in her opinion. Though from what her nephew told her, that may just be his default.

“Where are we going?”

“The forest. There’s an… issue… with Zim.” Kevin unhelpfully didn’t explain, kept looking at Tarek for some kind of cue, hesitant and waiting.

She wouldn’t have picked it out as a clearing by sight–being an urban dweller for the majority of her life left her severely unequipped with forest-related terms–but she felt something the closer they got to it. Sharply cold, yet fuzzy and heavy in her lungs. Kevin went straight for the girl shockingly armed with a short sword of some type–who somehow mystifyingly still looked friendly and approachable despite it–while Tarek stopped enough that she stepped up to his side, no longer needing to follow.

“Where’s Kaiza?” His sister, with similar hair and eye color and penchant for leather jackets, glared at him perplexed.

“She said to bring her,”

“What’s happening? Where’s Zim?”

The group of faeries revealed themselves, the light going hazy for a bit, four of them with a dazed looking Zim in the middle.

“Is this your negotiator or have you brought us another pet?”

“This is… R… she’s here to take him back.”

“Oh and how will you do that, Miss R? What do you have that they do not?”

What did she know about faeries? What did anyone know about faeries? This was so out of the realm of her knowledge it wasn’t even funny. What did she have that three werewolves–and she and Zim were going to talk about this, though she’s not at all surprised they exist considering… magic–and one extremely well-armed warrior didn’t? She has magic. No, Zim has magic too and more experience with it besides, that’s not it. Wait… yes… there is something specific that she has that the others don’t. Something that has nothing to do with ability, something that… then it hit her as she looked at the others around her: Laila and Tarek were siblings. Kevin was part of their pack. Kevin and Madison were dating.

“I have prior claim. He’s mine, you can’t take him.”

“Prove it.”

“He… he is blood of my blood.”

Their silence implied it was not enough. And, that made sense. She wasn’t his closest relative, he wasn’t hers necessarily.

“I… he… he was named after me! His mother named him after me!”

“His name is Zim-”

“His true name and my true name. Two of my names were given to him by his mother, that is more than anyone else even his father. So he is mine.”