#(And Lucid wants to bring some back with him xD)

[brokendreamscreation]

“There’s so many adorable dinosaurs!! But I dunno which ones to bring back with me…”

[tzimiscequeen-blog]

>.>

Crocodile Fic

Isekai/Soft/Fuegoleon Vermillion

These have piqued my interest the most (trying not to ask about all of them XD ) So please share a snippet or whatever shaped bit you want =3

I am happy to oblige you Quin! I’m so excited you are interested in multiple fics! I just want to talk about all the things on my fics so this might be a little long, sorry!

The Fuegoleon one is still very basic right now. It is one of my random generated idea fics where I have a randomizer pick SFW/NSFW, AU, Plot/Story element, and Character(s). This one was NSFW/Soft-Comfort/Isekai/Fuegoleon. This is first draft material, lol

I just love this part, it’s a little separate from the story, more set up but Julius is such a troublemaker and so carefree that I had to make him play matchmaker a bit:

You picked up that Julius was a bit of a cheeky one and knew that when he suggested that Fuegoleon bring you to the Crimson Lions base to oversee your acclimation into this world that he very much had an ulterior motive for you and the Captain.

Here’s more of the main part (You “called in sick” for training this day):

“May I come in? You seem troubled.”

“Yes, of course,” you answered as you stepped aside, allowing him entrance into your room then closed the door behind him.

He paused far enough in to allow the door to close but didn’t leave your orbit. A flaming finger, you learned long ago did not burn unless he desired it to, gently lifted your chin to look up at him. His eyes softened as he searched yours for a silent reason to your deception.

A few stray tears fell down your cheek and he wiped them with his other hand.

“What has you so upset my dear? This is unlike you, at least the you that we’ve all come to know. Has someone here caused you pain? Did you finally meet my sister? She traumatizes most people upon first meeting,” he asked with a slight smile at the last question. His voice was calm and comforting. His touch warmed you, though you were unsure if it was from his flames or from him touching you in general.

You sniffed and took your seat back on the couch in front of the fireplace. Fuegoleon followed and took a seat next to you with enough room so he wasn’t invading your personal space, but could move quickly if he needed to comfort you.

“It’s been six months since I arrived here and other than the first few weeks, I haven’t thought much about the family and friends I left in my previous life,” you paused to calm your emotions so you weren’t a bawling mess in front of the Captain.

“I don’t know if time passes the same here as it did there, but if it did…today would have been my birthday,” you finished with a deep breath.

And Crocodile, my beloved Sir Crocodile:

TW: Alluding to SA This is when Croc and his beloved Isis first meet: She envisioned herself looking over a desert from a lush oasis. She stood in her dream world for some time, unaware of the actual time that had passed in reality. She suddenly felt the wind pick up and a sandstorm headed her way. She was lucid enough to try to move out of its path, but it seemed to change course and continue towards her. Her chest began to get heavy with fear. This had never happened in her disassociation before.

Maybe my mind is fully losing itself. Would Sphynx be alright if I just let go, lose myself to insanity? She thought.

With that thought she heard her name being called ever so softly from the sandstorm. It was a whisper, but the tone was deep and calm. She could feel the grains of sand gently blow against her skin. The storm looked intense, but as she let it draw closer to her the sand didn’t batter her skin. It felt more like a caress, a hug. Isis took one last big breath before the storm engulfed her and her vision turned black.

“Isis, can you hear me?” the voice from the sandstorm spoke to her as she came back to reality. It was just as deep and calm as she heard in her dreamworld. Her body felt warm and covered. She registered that she was being held in large firm arms.

She was not prepared for the man that looked down at her when she finally managed to open her eyes. He had to have been the most handsome man she had ever seen. His long black hair was pulled back, with a few strands hanging down on either side of his face which framed his firm squared jaw. He wasn’t smiling, but she noticed a slight up curl to his lips before he caught himself and his face held a mask of neutrality.

She didn’t recognize him as one of the syndicate men; she had met the boss and this man certainly wasn’t him. He looked to be around her and Sphynx’s age, but even sitting down she could tell he was unusually tall. She would call him a giant, if she didn’t already know that giants were taller than buildings.

She couldn’t help but stare into his hooded orange eyes, but kept her guard up. She shifted and he released his sturdy grip, which allowed her to scoot off his large lap and back onto her bed.

Her hands slid across the sheets as she moved to the head of the bed and felt grains of sand littered across it. Not enough for a handful, more like a scattered dusting. She had been wrapped in the top blanket from her bed and didn’t immediately see Corbin.

The man raised his large hands to show he wasn’t a threat, “Isis, you are safe for now. That pig won’t hurt you or your brother any longer,” the man said, his voice neutral and still calm.

“Who are you,” she asked as she ran the grains of sand through her fingers.

“My name is Crocodile, this syndicate took my family from me like it did yours. I am here to exact my revenge. I had hoped you and your brother would like to join me,” he explained. His voice was deep like a cavern but had grit to it, like the sand on her bed was sliding through his throat as the words came out.

“Why is there sand in my bed and how do you know my name?” she asked cautiously.

Crocodile gave a sly smirk before he held his hand up and a tiny sand whirlwind danced on his palm, “I am a sand man. And as for your name, well I found out about you and your brother through my research and scouting of this syndicate.”

Isis, was stunned. She couldn’t make sense of the sandstorm in her lucid dream and this sand man. He didn’t seem to move or act in a threatening manner. She didn’t want to cave to the first person who treated her with any manner of respect since she hadn’t been given any in 5 years, but something about this man soothed her.

“Sphynx and I have tried to escape before and were caught. What makes you think you can succeed?” she asked.

He stood and had to slouch to not hit his head on the ceiling. He reached down and held up a desiccated body wearing the clothes of Corbin.

“I have already taken out 2 safe-houses and am halfway through this one without a scratch on me. I am very hard to hit, let alone kill,” he explained as he dropped the husk that was her captor.

When they reunite (30 years later) – Isis has a large scar across her shoulder and chest. They made it to her tent and sure enough it was huge, both height and width. She poured a glass of wine for each of them as he took a seat on the couch in the joined common space.

“Don’t sit,” he said before she sat.

“Oookaaay. I’m not sure I like your tone Crocodile. I may be happy to see you, but you don’t get to demand things of me, especially in my own home” she replied as her voice became more guttural. Crocodile was surprised at the noise. It sounded like the noise his fruit wani’s made when they were angry.

She could tell he was thrown aback by the noise she made, “Sorry, that happens when I get really frustrated or defensive.”

He pulled her into him with his hook around her waist. “I wasn’t trying to demand anything from you. I wanted you in front of me instead of next to me,” his voice was deep and heated. His eyes scanned her, like he was trying to commit this current version of her to memory.

“I wanted to search you out. I wanted to find you, but my ambition overruled my heart. It will always be my one regret.”

“Croc,” she said as she traced his scar again.

“I thought I would never see you again and here you are. I let you go once…no…I left you once. I don’t know if I have the strength to do it again, with you right here, in front of me. Healthy, healed, just as gorgeous as you were almost 30 years ago and smiling at me like it never happened,” his voice was not like anything she had ever heard come from him. He was quiet almost pleading.

“Then don’t leave. I’m not stopping you from achieving your goals. I will gladly help you,” she said as she cupped his face in her free hand as she put down her wine glass.

He brought his hand up to her clavicle scar and let his fingers linger on it. She could see the pain in the former warlords eyes. She knew very few people were privileged to see this man so vulnerable and she didn’t take that for granted.

“You didn’t do this to me. The bastards that killed both of our families and held my brother and I captive did this to me. You saved me and Sphynx. We tried to escape but never succeeded. You were the hope and the brains we needed. I got these,” she pointed to her two major scars, “protecting you, the man who saved us, the man I f...,” she caught herself before she said too much. It wasn’t time for that just yet, “It was the least I could do.”

“Isis, will you ever forgive me for leaving?”

“There is nothing to forgive. I was the one who told you to go and finish our vengeance. I was too injured and Sphynx stayed to take care of me. I never expected you to come back for us since it was going to take weeks if not months to be able to properly defend myself, let alone any one else,” she took his large hand in hers and gave it a gentle kiss.

“I wanted to come back for you, but I thought you were better off without me. I may have saved you but all that was running through my veins was vengeance and rage. I didn’t know what to do when that was gone. I was scared and felt I didn’t deserve your kindness or your heart, so I left the island,” he cupped the side of her face which took up that whole side of her head.

“You deserved all the kindness. You were in pain and needed someone to care about you. I did and still do, Croc. My heart was yours and always will be yours,” she took his hand and placed it over her chest.    

“You’re amazing. After all these years I feel like the young man I was when we met,” he said before he leaned forward and hovered his lips just before hers. His eyes searched hers for any sign of fear or hesitation.

Her reply was to close the distance and press her lips to his. She had thought about this for so long, being in his arms again. His lips were soft and tasted of wine and cigars, surprisingly not unpleasant. She could feel his contained passion hidden beneath the surface of the kiss.

[paradife-loft]

Hi! I absolutely love the meta about NMJ's Empathy memories being unreliable, and it's got me wondering about how his qi deviation and death actually went. Since LXC says he saw the qi deviation (and Fatal Journey says it was in public), what's your take on how JGY got NMJ into his secret room so he and Xue Yang could use the Tiger Seal (and eventually kill him)? Fatal Journey has the Nie sect holding a funeral for him, so presumably NHS had /soneone's/ body to bury, but then in The Untamed LXC later says something like he 'hasn't heard from' NMJ in years and had feared the worst, so things... don't seem to add up? What do you think?

Aaah, okay, so: first off, I’m incredibly sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this, and I nonetheless  very much appreciate your interest in my opinions here <3 If you’re still hanging around/following me/reading my blog, anon, idk how obvious it’s been that I’ve… not been having the best few months brain-wise, but that’s basically all I can offer as an excuse for why this reply is coming so late. Thank you for your patience!

So, okay, I think I’m going to try and tackle this question from a couple different angles. First of all, I think it’s worth looking at the material provided in the contained story of the 50 episodes of The Untamed on its own, to see what that suggests, before bringing in outside or supplemental sources, which is what for this purpose I’d consider spin-off movies, details in other versions of the broader MDZS story material, etc. to be. Also, I want to note upfront that while I do tend to incorporate different details and versions of events from both CQL and MDZS into my personal headcanon, what I write in my fic, etc. because I think they tend to provide interesting possibilities, elaborations, and what-ifs for a broader composite MDZS-adaptation-universe – for the purposes of this post, I’m going to stick to material from The Untamed and Fatal Journey only. Mostly, my reason for that is that there’s a few logistically distinct details of how the qi deviation happens in MDZS compared to CQL – one being, it happens at Qinghe rather than Lanling – that I believe affect the timeline of what Jin Guangyao is doing with Nie Mingjue’s corpse in the first place.

Alright so, in The Untamed alone, the evidence such as we have includes: the Empathy sequence involving the qi deviation in episode 41, and Lan Xichen’s statement in episode 39 recounting that he saw it happen himself at Jinlintai, and that after hearing nothing from/about Nie Mingjue since, he’s been “mentally prepared” - presumably, for the news that he’s dead. What I’m inclined to take from those two pieces of information, is essentially a story like this: NMJ qi deviates, very publically, and at some point while this is happening, he makes a break for it and leaves Jinlintai, and whatever presumably messy trail he leaves in the process ends up going cold for anyone trying to follow, with no NMJ around to be seen. With various factors at Jinlintai invested in retrieving him for attempting to turn him into a controllable fierce corpse, it’s pretty easy to imagine that, besides whatever above-board search party tried to follow him, there would also have been another party closely watching his movements for an opportune moment to slip in and scoop him up to bring him back to the secret treasure room for fierce corpse experimentation – hence why the trail would’ve gone cold.

Now, the actual scene showing the qi deviation itself doesn’t include multiple elements I’m positing or including here – specifically, the presence of a bunch of third parties actually witnessing it, LXC included, and then also the idea that NMJ ever left that one landing at the top of the stairs during the qi deviation at all. But, since we see in other parts of the Empathy sequence that the events shown can be… a bit more impressionistic than accurate; and furthermore since it seems reasonable to posit that the memories of the time when he has a literal break with reality might be even less literally reliable than the rest of them – I think those aspects can be reasonably explained away as that scene portraying more of what the qi deviation felt like from the inside, than what an outside observer would’ve seen. Nie Mingjue’s focus is Jin Guangyao, so Jin Guangyao is all he sees – up until Nie Huaisang breaks through that monomaniacal focus and is seen, finally, as himself.

(If you particularly want to pull out some feelings, I might even suggest the idea that finally seeing a distraught NHS was the thing that pulled NMJ sufficiently out of his rage to be lucid enough to flee – and that he booked it in part because he was terrified and ashamed to possibly hurt his younger brother, whether physically or emotionally by letting him see NMJ in such an awful state.

So then, aside from that: the question of what we see in Fatal Journey. I’ve actually been trying to find an answer about what kinds of mourning customs would be followed or even possible if a family didn’t actually have their loved one’s body on hand to bury, but thusfar my internet searching hasn’t really gotten me any useful information one way or another – if anyone reading has an idea or some good sources to point me to, I’d love to hear them! Everything I’ve read so far seems to very tightly marry the performance of appropriate rites and the presence of a body together.

That said, looking back through the actual funeral scene in Fatal Journey, I also wasn’t able to notice the presence of a coffin anywhere in the set, either? We see a memorial tablet, set up in the front of the throne room at Qinghe, and what looks like a brief shot of some offerings, and NHS stoking the fire, but in the couple brief scenes of the inside of the hall, I don’t think there was a coffin set up there? (Or, for that matter, out in the courtyard which we get a longer look at, either.) Compared to what I at least assume is a coffin with Jin Zixuan’s body inside during the mourning scene in episode 32, I feel like it’s reasonable to guess that, even with Fatal Journey included, whatever mourning rites took place at Qinghe after NMJ’s death, they may simply have not involved a body or a burial at all.

- And actually, now that I’m thinking about it, taking Fatal Journey into consideration overall suggests that it might ultimately be the norm at Qinghe to hold mourning rites without a body present – because per the lore additions in the movie, the Nie sect leaders go down to die on their own at the bottom of the saber tomb, and it sure doesn’t look like anybody had been going down there to retrieve them once they did? So, I don’t know, maybe there’s some sort of symbolic burial of something associated with the sect leader as a Nie custom, to keep things looking a bit more normal and less “we build a tomb for these resentment-filled blade spirits that eat our sect leader’s sanity”, and that’s also what ended up being done for Nie Mingjue?  But, yeah, there’s no real confirmation happening even in the movie that NHS was able to come back with a body to bury, so I don’t think that necessarily contradicts the idea that NMJ could have gone missing during his qi deviation and never been properly recovered for a 100% confirmed death.

(That said, I personally don’t tend to incorporate, oh, most of the specific events or points of lore from Fatal Journey into my own readings on various elements of the story? Like, quite frankly, I don’t really like the movie that much, and I think it opens up a lot more unnecessary character and worldbuilding questions without doing a good job of integrating them back into the rest of The Untamed’s continuity (er, such as it exists XD). So I don’t necessarily have an opinion on whether “the Nie sect generally doesn’t do bodily burials of is clan leaders” is an idea anyone should pick up for The Untamed canon; merely that if you do take the events of Fatal Journey as canon, it certainly seems like it could be a possibility.)

(And again, big, big big disclaimer here that, e.g. if holding any kind of mourning rites without a body present is actually super Not Done, then what I’m saying with this part might be totally moot, and then well…. who knows, there’s plenty of speculation that could be used to cover that gap up – maybe “they never found the body” wasn’t actually widespread knowledge, but rather just information LXC had special access to due to the relationships he had with the people involved? – and some set of people depending on your preferences conspired to get another body to stand in for NMJ’s to allow them to hold a funeral? ….Which honestly sounds incredibly sketchy to me on its own, but considering all the other professionally Yikes-style desecrations of bodies that happen in this story…. who knows? I’m really just tossing out ideas here at this point, not saying I necessarily endorse any of them outside of “I think this could potentially work in some way without being out of character for anybody”.)

Anyway… I hope that answers your question, anon, and is otherwise interesting for everyone else reading? Thank you for the ask, and apologies again for taking so long to respond! <3

[shot-tothestars]

Before you go.

Guess who just wrote a fic??? Me!!! Yup it took me 3 days to finish a 1168 words one-shot but welp...I’m not good with angst :’) (but I’m proud of this so :3) The title is just because this song by Lewis Capaldi inspired me a lot (listening to it in my dad’s car and imagining all the angsty scenes) 

ALSO A FRICKING HUGE THANKS TO @anabethtessahermione FOR BETA READING THIS, YOU HAVE MY HEART AND ETERNAL GRATITUDE <3<3<3<3

Hope you like it!!!

Summary:"He wishes he had noticed sooner. For the first time, he encounters a problem he can't solve. It's Ray after all."

Fandom: The Promised Neverland/ Yakusoku no Neverland

Pairing: (you could say) Norman x Ray 

Type: Angst, canon divergence

Arc: Paradise Hideout arc!/ King of paradise arc!

Warnings: Mention of suicide and mild spoilers (if you haven’t read the manga this won’t make sense to you XD)

Who would have said the sweet Astrid would write angst? To be honest... this my sec fic of this two, the other is in my notebook, is fluff and it would never see the light of tumblr :)

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"So, where is he?"

Her eyes darken and he really doesn't want to listen to what his brain is screaming at him.

"Norman I..."

Tears appear on her green eyes.

. . .

His eyes open up. The first thing he distinguishes is a white ceiling. He notices that his body is in a resting position (almost as if he had just woken up) and decides to stay like that for a few minutes, trying to avoid the dizziness that he would surely have had otherwise. Instead, Norman decides to take a look at his surroundings by moving his head gently and the couple of beds beside him, the mahogany wood flooring,and the infantile drawings that are hanging on the milky white walls set all the alarms on his brain because, without knowing how, he's back at that place that still gives him nightmares almost two years later.

How is he back at Grace Field House?

Quickly, his brain gets out of the shock and starts reasoning as usual. He gets to the conclusion that he must be dreaming (at least until the place starts to turn into the night terrors he is accustomed to). He sits down,grateful that he isn't experiencing any whirling sensation, and since he knows that none of what he is seeing is actually real, decides to let go a bit of his nerves, still paying attention to everything around him but with a more curious than afraid instinct. He starts to wander through the place. He can't say he hates it here, the house brings him fond moments that he refuses to see as lies. Still, he can no longer call it a home (even though he wishes he could). Staring at the old childish drawings that make him smile melancholic, the perfect made up beds that, in some bizarre way, he had missed and the "nut-brown" door, he sighs with a mixture of comfort and sadness, not knowing why he feels this way, and then decides to explore some more, maybe if this was those "lucid dreams" mama once told him about he could stop pretending for a bit (it had been so long since the last time he had the possibility to do something so carefree).

He quickly finds himself in front of the library's door he has spent so many afternoons in. He can't say he was expecting something when he opened the door and that figure was so connected to the place that the few minutes he took to approach him, take a seat next to him and give a quick look at what the boy was reading were passed without him noticing what was actually happening.

The moment his brain finally realized the situation, he almost choked on his own breath and instinctively got a few inches away, his fight or flight reflexes as active as ever.

The other gave a little chuckle and looked at him, amused.

"Why so scared? Have you seen a ghost?" His eyes sparkled charmly "Or was it just your reflex? To be honest, I thought it was impossible for you to get paler, Nor-"

He can feel hot tears running through his face, he's probably ruining the other's shirt and the whole stoic facade he has been working so hard to perfect doesn't really matter anymore.

Ray's alive here and that's all that matters.

"Don't be stupid" He gives little rubs at his back, awkward to comfort but trying his best. "You know the truth"

"I don't really care" he buries his face in the other's shoulder "let me be like this for a bit more, please"

He hears a little hum as response, a hand patting his head while the gentle strokes in his back continue.

Feeling protected was something he had missed for so long without knowing. His heart wrenches, his mind keeps trying to make him accept the truth, but he doesn't want it right now. Norman feels tired, has been feeling that way for what seemed like an eternity (even though it had just been two years) Asking himself questions he couldn't really answer, taking a role no twelve year old should, doing things that he could say his body was in a better condition than his soul. Being able to finally be comforted was, to say the least, nice.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what exactly?"

"You know what I'm talking about, idiot"

"And I'm pretty sure you still don't want to admit the answer, idiot"

His heart gets heavier with that sentence.

He remembers discovering Ray's secret place, where he had hidden all he would need for his plan to work out. At a quick glance and with the knowledge he had, it was easy to figure out what the boy had been planning for so long. He remembers how his own lips let a soft smile, he wouldn't let him die, that was for sure, if the dumbass wanted to die, he would make sure to show him a million reasons to live, each for whatever reason Ray had for desiring to end with his life.

He, for the first time, had encountered a problem he couldn't solve. It was Ray after all.

"Was there something I could have said to change your mind?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"If only I had-"

He feels the hug being broken and a hot sensation in his cheek. Those dark green eyes covered by tears as well.

"Stop right there, I thought you were a genius, Norman" He can't look at him anymore, his voice hurts too much already. "Not some stupid with a it-was-my-fault complex, don't you dare to think it was or else..."

"You were hurting and I couldn't do anything!" His throat hurts, and his eyes are swollen but he feels strong enough. "I can't even tell for how long you had been like that and I was supposed to be your best friend!"

He can't control anything, not even his body. He feels so useless, what type of friend he was? How could he be called a genius if he couldn't even discern how much Ray hated himself, to the point of...

"That's because you two make it all better" The tone sounds so soft and broken he is forced to look at his face. He is smiling. "All the moments I had with you and Emma were the best in my poor excuse of a life."

He's about to open his mouth, but decides to keep it shut instead. There is a soft smile on his lips even though tears keep running down. He wanted to ask more questions, he wanted to make him realize how wrong he was for wanting to go so soon, he wanted so many things.

"It's already too late" He's opening the library's door. "It was nice to see you again, Norman. Tell the other idiot it wasn't her fault either. She's starting to annoy my "Eternal rest" and I want to enjoy it, you know"

The room starts to fade out.

"I'm looking forward to meet you two again."

...

"I couldn't Norman I-" She starts sobbing uncontrollably and he waits for the worst. "He's gone."

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If you read this let me tell you you are my hero <3, I would give you a cookie but I don’t have my phone so :’( anyways, THANKS FOR READING!!! <3<3

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 72: Care

As it turns out, week-long sex marathons dictated by one's biology rather than their desires are not as fun as might be assumed. HOWEVER Cuddles fucking rule. So there's that :D

Alternative summary: Watch an asexual skirt around smut the same way she would skirt around a puddle of vomit XD

First  Previous  Next

“How’s your ass?” Keith asks, after some vargas of droning silence. The only things to do for entertainment right now are to admire the landscape and badger his mate.

“My ass is perfectly fine, thank you.” A moment’s silence. “So’s your dick-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Keith snaps his head around to glare at his incredibly smug mate. Scowling, knowing he’s already lost before he’s even begun, he mutters, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“And I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I only agreed because Thace told me to.”

“The first time. What about the second time? Or the third-”

“You’ve made your point!” Keith slows his elk down, next to his mate, glaring at him.

The Altean frowns, surprised at how quickly the teasing soured into irritation. “Are you alright, beloved?”

They’d left early that morning, even earlier than they’d planned. It had always been their intention to leave this quintant, but now Keith’s feeling restless. He has a sense of urgency, but he’s not sure what about. He suspects it’s his season.

Scratch that. He knows it’s his season.

“Fine. Just- Stressed. I feel weird, but I don’t know how! It’s so irritating!”

Keith’s as much scared as he is uncomfortable. He’s well aware of what’s about to happen to him, that loss of control a terrifying prospect. That and...

“Hey, can we stop for a bit?” It’s out of his mouth before he even realizes it. “I- I know we’re almost there, but… Please?”

“Yes, of course.” Lance stops his elk, dismounts, helps Keith down from his.

Keith immediately embraces him, settling against the smaller man’s gentle warmth. He sighs, Lance’s particular scent invading his nose, his familiar presence a balm on his nerves.

“You okay, beloved?”

“I think so? I just really missed you all of a sudden.”

“Okay.” Lance shapeshifts, a little taller, a little broader, a more reassuring frame for Keith to lean against. “The first thing I want to do when we get you back to the village is get you something to eat. Then I'll braid your hair so it doesn’t get all tangled. I asked for extra blankets for you too, to help your fever. I thought it might save your body some effort.”

Keith sighs, settling further. “My good man, thank you.”

“I know this is going to be hard, but I won’t make it any harder than necessary. I can- I will- learn how to be a good mate for you. I just need a little guidance sometimes, that’s all.”

“Thace says that- He says the more satisfied I am, the more lucid I’ll be. I think I can trust you with that much.” Keith smiles, the physical contact grounding him, some of the irritation and discomfort. “Just… Make sure I drink. Eat. And please don’t leave... I'm always needing you. It's so frustrating sometimes. I want to be able to stand up on my own, but there's always something in my way.”

“Not for an instant. I promise.” Lance rubs his back, quintessence sinking beneath his skin like a gentle balm. "And you've got plenty of time for that. You're only just now grown up, and we've always known you'd need me for this, right? Whether that means sex or just someone to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah..." Keith hums, feeling his body loosen, some of the irritability ebbing away. “And maybe do that. It feels nice. ‘M so loved…”

“Aw… Beloved. You absolutely are. So loved.” Lance presses a kiss to the base of one of his ears, more than happy to let Keith have his moment. “I’m happy to hold you as long as you like, but sooner or later, we do need to get you home.”

“I know. And sooner, not later.” Keith pushing his head up under Lance’s chin. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“You can ride behind me if you want, and I can lead Calik while we walk.”

“On one condition.”

“Hm?”

“Stop. Naming. Animals. We can’t keep them all.”

“Shhhhhh. We’ll talk about it. Come on.” Lance takes Calik’s reins, unlatching one end from his bridle on the far side of his mouth to give him a bit more room to walk. He figures the bull will follow them whether Lance leads him or not, but he’ll go ahead just in case. BleepBloop climbs out of Keith's saddlebag, fingers in Calik's fur as he finds a new perch atop the bull's head.

Lance vaults back onto Bruna's back, taking Keith’s hand to help him up behind. The Galra wraps his arms around his waist, pressing up close to him. “This is better. I think I’ve been missing you.”

“We’ll be back at the village soon enough,” Lance promises, squeezing Bruna’s sides with his legs. The doe starts forward again, large antlers like coral fans on either side of her head, red hue blending in with the rocky terrain.

They’re back a couple vargas later, sun already hanging low in the sky, chill starting to creep in. Lance feels Keith start to shiver against him. “Go take a bath. I’ll find you something to eat.”

He can feel the eyes of their neighbors upon them. They know exactly what’s happening. He can also sense their displeasure when Keith goes inside alone, and Lance continues on through the village. There’s some strange unease rippling through them...

The scales on his cheekbones start glittering red at the edge of his vision, instincts on high alert. It’s probably making the locals nervous. They can probably sense how on edge he is, and remember the unpredictability red-based Alteans are known for. Fear runs deep, Lance realizes. He can't blame them. There are far fewer Alteans than there are Galra; this is nothing new. And yet, it took an alliance to end what should have been an easy fight. If he were an outsider, he'd be afraid too.

Pulling to a stop outside Krolia’s den, he drops the reins, stroking Bruna’s neck for a moment, a gentle thanks for her work in getting them here.

Krolia’s inside, kneading some bread.

“Chills set in?” she asks, pointedly not looking at him.

“Yes. Just as we were coming in, actually.”

“It’ll probably be a while before his temperature rises enough.”

“Why does he need a fever anyway?” Lance asks, helping the woman wrap food in leaves. “It seems like it would be detrimental, since it’s so taxing.”

“Put these in the cellar so they won’t spoil. They’re mostly shelf-stable, but still, it’ll keep them fresher.” Krolia accepts a cloth bag from Lance, filling it with food. “Fever kills sperm, and the resulting skew in his fertility encourages his body to become receptive.”

“Makes sense?” It doesn’t really, but what does he know? Krolia hums, hands him the heavy bag. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? Either way, he’s already yours.”

“Isn’t that why it matters?” Lance shakes his head. “I don’t have time to argue this right now. Thank you for the food. We appreciate it.”

He pauses in the entryway. “You should come visit once his season’s over. He’d be happy to have you. We can’t stay past the end of the phoeb, so if you want to see him, you’d best do it soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the Galra woman murmurs, staring at him. “Leave your elk here. I’ll take care of them. And BleepBloop.”

“Thank you.”

Back outside, under watch of the villagers, Lance pulls what he needs from the elks’ saddlebags, leaves the rest on the ground before tying them to a post by a water trough. He pets BleepBloop's head, amused he the little primate removes his hand so he can pet him back. “See you soon, guys. Be good for us.”

Wolfing down some food, Lance hurries back to the den, finding a wet-furred Keith sitting on the bed, chirping softly. “Hey, beloved. You okay?”

The Galra nods, having perked up the moment he arrived. Lance hands him some food, stores the rest away. Then he takes up the towel, ruffling Keith’s fur as he dries him off, finishing by squeezing a fresh one through his long hair.

“I feel cold.”

“I promise you’re not.” The air around Keith feels warmer than usual, the trembling of his body making Lance’s work a little more difficult as he parts Keith’s hair. “I’m going to make three braids, and then braid those together. It should keep your hair from falling out and getting tangled.”

Dropping a kiss to Keith’s shoulder, Lance waits for his husband’s nod before he continues. “Everything’s gonna be okay, beloved. I’m right here. Everything will be fine.”

“I- I know. I just-” He shivers again, teeth chattering.

“Shhh… Just eat. Drink some water. I’ll take care of the rest.” Lance finishes braiding Keith’s braids, long, clever fingers making quick work of the thick locks.

While Keith eats, Lance goes and ties down the entryway cloth, gazing out at the sky to see that the typically fluffy, white or gray clouds are thick and dark, blanketing the sky as far as he can see.

He covers the windows, too. The air might get a little stale, but he’s been told it’s customary. Some guise of privacy, it keeps the den dark, makes bearers feel more secure during their seasons. It should keep the rain out, too.

He throws more wood in the inside firepit, hoping to raise the temperature some more as he coaxes flames into a clump of leaves and twigs. The less effort Keith has to put into this, the better off he’ll be. He gets water, brings it to the bedroom. Keith’s staring, amethyst eyes luminous in the dark, large, anxious, pleading.

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.” Lance settles in beside him. “Would you like some more blankets?”

Keith nods, snuggles up to him, rubbing his cheeks into Lance’s shirt, marking him with his scent as his fingers slip beneath the fabric.

“Okay, okay. Give me a tick.” Lance yanks his shirt over his head, lets a purring Keith burrow into his warmth. He lays on his back, pulling extra blankets with him, puts his arm around Keith's waist. He can feel every tremor racking his husband’s frame. “There we go, there we go. That’s it.”

They lie there together in silence, Keith’s purring, the wind whistling around their den the only noises. Another strong tremor wracks his husband’s frame, adding the chatter of teeth to the ambience.

A low, deep rumbling rattles the air around them, followed by a roars as the rain starts coming down in a torrent. Lance tenses. “What was that?”

“A thunderstorm.”

“Oh. That’s what thunder sounds like?” Lance trails fingers through the mane of fur down Keith’s spine, feeling his body continue to heat up. “It’s louder than I imagined.”

“It’s louder when it’s close.” Another violent shiver has Keith curling closer to him. He feels like he’s on fire. “Lance…”

“I know… I know. You’ll be alright.”

As it turns out, Lance didn’t know at all.

Contrary to his very immature expectations, seasons aren’t really fun or sexy. At least, not for him.

Seasons are for reproduction, pure and simple. Which means Keith’s just… there, passively responding to his ministrations. And when he’s not, he’s asleep, or just uncomfortable and miserable. The fever makes him lethargic, sapping him of energy, but also of appetite. What little he can eat makes him nauseous, and he mumbles once that he wishes he’d just throw up.

Lance does his best, even if his best doesn’t feel good enough. The truth is, he hates it, and he misses his husband the entire movement he’s in season, though he never leaves his side.

Keith doesn’t really enjoy himself either. He just feels ill, horny, and generally uncomfortable. The only thing that actually helps is Lance’s ‘presence’, and his quintessence, both of which the man gives him freely. It soothes some of his distress, makes him better able to eat and drink, helps him find the energy for his fever. He has Lance check his temperature more than once, just to make sure he’s holding steady. He is, mostly, within a margin of one or two degrees. He only dips low once, near the end, and he distinctly remembers Lance scooping him up and setting him in a piping hot bath.

He doesn’t really remember much else. It all kind of blended together in the end.

What he does remember is afterward, waking up with his head on Lance’s chest, a hand running up and down his back, curled fingers coursing through his thick mane.

“Hey, Beloved.” A tug on his braid. “Good morning.”

“Mmf.” Keith’s entire body aches. “Is it, though?”

“I’m here. You’re here. Seems a good morning to me.”

“Mnh. I suppose.” Keith gently runs a hand up and down Lance’s scales and skin. “You okay?”

“Am I okay? Are you okay?”

Sore. Tired. Cranky.” Another deep sigh. “A little nauseous. How long has it been since I’ve eaten?”

“A while.” Lance rubs his back. His own voice sounds hoarse. He sleeps when Keith sleeps. “I was going to get you to eat something, but then your fever started to break.”

“Ugh... I don’t feel good.”

“I’m not surprised. You really put us through it, Beloved.” There’s a hum of warmth beneath Keith’s skin as Lance tries to soothe his aching muscles. “You wanna eat, or sleep some more?”

Too tired to say any more, Keith nods, nuzzling against Lance’s throat as a gentle purr thrums low in his throat. A little amused, Lance pulls him closer, rubs behind his ear. He’d sleep too -he’s quite tired himself- but he’s worried. He hadn’t expected this to be so taxing for Keith.

He’d been told multiple times, but he still felt unprepared.

“Please be okay, beloved.”

“Hm… My good man. Nithi’i oma anithi’i.”

Lance smiles. “Se sart-he losi sart-ha.”

You are my person.

[halinski]

I have so many questions about your WIP folder... like, "BOTTLE"??? and are "BO" and "BOTTLE" two different fics? Also "16. Dreamcatcher!Derek", I'm very intrigued... And since there is a blue moon this month "41. Every Once In A Blue Moon"? (Ignore me it that's too many questions)(though I'd love to know more about your poems, too)

hahahaha, the questions are appreciated :D i actually think that i once posted a thing like this and that exactly this one and the blue moon one where asked for lmaooo but yeah you guessed it, BO and BOTTLE are essentially two different versions of the same fic, one further written than the other, and the other containing more of the initial outlining. It was basically inspired by a story I heard at work (and no longer 100% remember) but it was about finding romance via letters in bottles in modern times or something? I think there was a person who regularly found letters and decided to reply to people who had added an address, and so i naturally wanted to sterek it, like i do with basically everything, and I started writing a fic about Derek living in a basically deserted light house and finding the letter that Stiles addressed to his mother and threw into the ocean. I had a whole long storyline planned out for this! I believe there was even bottles with letters Derek had written to his family that came back to him and he stored away forever to be unread (until Stiles comes along ofc). But another version was that Derek never did anything about the letters, just read them, and there were ofc a bunch of sad ones. (Derek stored the all ofc). there’s diff save files with diff versions (and i believe two different files that have the initial idea i screamed at someone while at work) and in one version I’m pretty sure Stiles was a mermaid like Ariel that collected bottled messages and then found Derek through his letters (who once again probably lived in a lighthouse by the ocean) but that was like at least 4 years ago if not more and i hate mermaids now so that version is absolutely scratched lol I didn’t get really far with any version in written word though and I doubt I will ever really finish it? I mean who knows... but I could totally get all the way into my feels again thinking about it if i let myself... You’re in luck my friend, bc Every Once in a Blue Moon actually contains a part of a poem (i was gonna write a long story poem that would be split upon the separate scenes/parts of the fic) and the fic actually starts with this: //Where wolves run, hunters lie Chasing, chasing Till they all die/ I'm a wolf, my pack is dead My eyes are blue I should have died instead/ To all the mermaids of the sea I'm waiting here Come and take me// as you can see, this too contains mermaids bc i started writing this yeears ago but I’ve decided to transform this fic and actually did continue writing a bit (or well, mor accurately, planning) and it’s now just titled Evil in a different file lmao bc the mermaids are gonna be evil and will represent Kate bc why didn’t i think of that in the first place? as one can see in the poem, it includes a young and pretty suicidal Derek and he goes back to his family’s old vacation home that is now destroyed, and there are memories, good and bad, in particularly one of Peter’s first son, a little boy, completely human, which had perplexed Derek. It includes Derek asking the relentless ocean and horizon /why/ things happen and never getting a reply, and basically him giving himself to the ocean, to the mermaid that impersonates Kate (bc ofc Kate already happened and everyone is dead) and she makes him see her and the torture again (I live for angst, forgive me) BUT then in comes Stiles and saves Derek from drowning and helps him heal. This is kind of a mixture of an au, a different world, with canon as we know it in TW and last but not least! Dreamcatcher!Derek ahhhh This one has always been in my head more conceptually than actually formed into words. It’s basically Derek after the fire and stuff, where he kind of just gives himself to supernatural powers (do we see a theme here *ehem*), he basically kinda loses himself to his nightmares, becomes so used to them, lives in them, he kind of transcends into the dream world? I had a few rough years full of nightmares every night so this idea was just very deep for me back then. And then Derek would go around to other people’s dreams and fight the monsters in the dreams. He was just like an instrument then, helping other people to get some rest, while he worked restlessly. I guess it’s based kinda on lucid dreaming, breaking free from your body and reality. For Derek it’s like... yeah nightmares are /horrible/, he knows best, this is why he does this, but for him personally... they’re better than real life. So he just kind of gives his physical body up and retreats to his mind. This is where Stiles finds him (*hint hint*). Aka Stiles is having nightmares, and Derek comes to him to save him. Of course, Stiles being Stiles is very aware of the shadowy figure that pops up in his dreams and changes everything, and Stiles being Stiles he starts chasing Derek, and Derek is so confused bc most people don’t interact with him in their dreams, certainly not the way Stiles does. So then basically Stiles is the one who catches Derek and brings him back out of the dreamworld, back to real life, back to himself. ...and they live happily ever after in every universe <3 hah sorry if this ended up way too long XD i guess i’m happy to share my ideas bc they might not ever present themselves in fic form ahhh so THANK YOU for getting back into these and letting me amuse myself haha

[charlessmithhasmyheart]

How They React to Reader on Their Period (M) - Pt.2

A/N: Heyo! Here is Part 2 of this headcanon. I’m going to be posting Part 3 with the women pretty soon. And then, maybe do one with non-gang members but...idk. XD

-------------

Pearson:

Good food has always been Pearson’s idea for a remedy, so when you refuse to eat, and continue to do so for a day or two, Pearson gets worried. He asks around camp, unsure as to what’s happening. Grimshaw, in her infinite wisdom, doesn’t sugar-coat it when he approaches her. It doesn’t bother Pearson in the slightest, having seen worse in his Navy days. He heads into town the next day, picks up a couple items from the general store, and returns to camp to make you a special treat; something that will actually taste good. He comes to your tent, quietly asking if he can enter. When you say yes, he brings you a plate of fresh tarts, the berries bright and the dough beautifully prepared. You smile and bring him in for a kiss, before offering to feed him one of the tarts.

Swanson:

Swanson rarely has moments of lucidity, but when he found you, he began to fight his inner demons allowing him to have better days. When you show signs of your monthly, he mistakes it for sickness. He becomes afraid, believing that now that he’s found some good in this world you getting sick is a consequence for his past actions.You try to tell him that you’re not sick or dying, but he doesn’t listen, and all you can really do is comply when he all but drags you to the doctor. He blushes red as a tomato when he hears the news. On the way back to camp, he’s silent; embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You chuckle and wrap your arms around him from where you sit behind on his horse. You reassure him that everything is fine and that you’re touched by the lengths he’ll go to ensure your safety.

Strauss:

Strauss comes from a family that doesn’t talk about their problems. If you were sick or injured, you dealt with it quickly and quietly, maintaining professionalism at all times. So when he finds you doubled over and groaning in pain, he chastises you for the way you are acting. He quickly realizes that was a mistake when you spout a string of curse words and practically light him on fire with only your gaze. It takes a few cycles for Strauss to get the hang of it, but now, whenever you are feeling down, he reds to you from the newspaper or tells you stories about his childhood to take your mind off the pain.

Uncle:

The one sure-fire cure that Uncle has for any ailment is whisky. You have a runny nose? Whisky. You got a cut from a knife fight? Whisky. Leg broke? Whisky. It works for you for all of ten minutes before you’re emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. Uncle is absolutely puzzled. He’s never seen a woman react to such a small amount of alcohol like that before, which is partially due to the fact that he’s maybe been in the waking work for all of five minutes his entire life. He rubs your back as you continue to retch, and tries to sooth you with words until you finish with a pained laugh. He won’t be giving you whisky any time soon, that’s for sure.

Micah:

Micah is honestly the absolute worst when it comes to periods. If the answer can’t be solved with killing, he doesn’t know what to do. You have to tell him point blank what’s happening to you and then some before it gets through his head that aggression won’t solve the issue. He already has a hard time showing any affection because of his upbringing, but he also doesn’t like to show any because he gets teased by the other men in camp. If you want him to even consider rubbing your shoulders or holding you until the cramps subside, you’ll have to drag him to your tent or find a well-secluded area away from camp.

Bill:

Bill, surprisingly enough, is one of the few people who gets it. Despite his bad relationship with his parents, he did find spending time with his mother to be a better time than with his father, so he was introduced to the concept of a period at a young age. He remembered his momma sitting near the fire a lot, and remembered her laying down when she could. Obviously, it’s difficult to do either one for very long with the list of chores to do, so he spends each day assisting you and trying to make your life easier. And at night, when things settle down, he pulls you into his lap and sits as close to the fire as allowed, warming you up until you’ve hit peak relaxation.

Kieran:

Kieran is what one wold call an empath. If you cry, he cries, and if you feel pain, he’ll be feeling right alongside you. One day when you’re dealing with cramps and the occasional mood change, you end up snapping at him, saying harsh words in the heat of the moment that removes all trace of happiness from his face. You instantly apologize, realizing what you’ve done, and try to keep the sudden tears at bay. Kieran, trying and failing to hold back his own tears, accepts your apology. You pull him into your arms and the two of you cry together, which ends up being very therapeutic for the both of you.

[thenovelartist]

Ladybug’s Lament, chapter 2

It was at this point that the Author realized that Ian and Luka are not the same personality-wise and that there must therefor be a compromise XD XD

<Previous  Next>

It wasn’t every day… er, ever, that Marinette woke up next to a naked man.

After taking a moment to freak out, her face pressed into her hands and flaming with embarrassment, she realized she should cover him, which she accomplished with her jacket. Only then was she able to process that he was completely unconscious and they were on a boat in the Seine.

Meaning that she was at a loss at what to do. The most she could remember was a beautiful voice calling her towards the water. Did she fell into the Seine? She must have considering her clothes were soaked. But what about him? Did he save her? His teal blue hair was slightly curled from moisture and remnants of water glistened off his skin in the moonlight. He probably had jumped into the water to save her.

“Hey,” she said, pushing at his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. “Um… excuse me.”

The man grunted, his eyes scrunching as he came to. When he did open his eyes for a split second, they seemed unfocused.

“Hey,” Marinette said again. “Are you okay?”

He grunted a second time, forcing himself to sit up with a hand holding his head as though in pain. Marinette didn’t know what else she could do but watch him struggle.

When he opened his eyes this time, she could tell he was more lucid. They were surprisingly blue, as blue as the color in his hair, but that may just be the moonlight playing tricks on her. He suddenly froze, staring at his legs for the longest time before finally looking at her.

“Uh, hi,” she said sheepishly. “Um… are you okay?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” he said, looking between his legs and her. “You’re human.”

She looked at herself, then at him, suddenly growing worried that she was with someone not so stable. “Yes.”

“And I’m human.”

“Yes…” Marinette hesitantly answered, slowly growing worried about if he hit his head in trying to save her. “Is that bad?”

“Well, two plus two is not equaling four in this equation.”

She smiled, but it was strained. Fantastic. She was stuck on a boat with a guy who had a couple screws loose and had no idea how she got here or where they could get off. “Um… okay.” Slowly, she stood up on the small boat, trying to figure out the best way to move it to somewhere they could get out of the Seine so she could get away from him. “I need to get home, but I don’t know—”

Marinette had always been a klutz, this was something she knew. She also knew sea legs were a real thing and accounted for that. What she did not account for was the rope by her feet that tripped her up and sent her back into the river. She heard the man cry out for her as she went splashing into the Seine for a second time that evening.

An odd sensation overtook her body, her legs feeling like they were turned to jelly completely. She opened her eyes, seeing that the man above her, but something was off. Something was glowing in the moonlight. Something like… like a tail.

She looked down at her legs, only to see she was sporting a tail of her own.

Before she could scream, the man had grabbed her, pulling them both up to the surface.

“Damn it!” the man shouted. “I knew something went wrong.”

“What the heck!” Marinette cried. “You have a tail. I have a tail. I’m dreaming, right?”

“Frankly, sweetheart, I wish we both were.”

Marinette’s head was spinning so fast that she wasn’t sure how to stop it or even slow it down. “Wha… how…?”

“Look,” the man said. “I think the best course of action right now would be to get out of the water and think about this in the morning. After you, er, we’ve both had some time to process this.”

“How about you start explaining now.” Marinette countered.

“Fine, we’ll compromise, and I’ll tell you everything once we get out of the water.”

Marinette nodded. “Okay, that’s a good plan.”

…

When her alarm went off at three in the morning, telling her that it was about time to start putting all the premade pastries in the oven to bake, she almost thought that last night was all a dream. But no. She had a sticky note beside her bed and on her bathroom mirror and on her bedroom door that said “It was real! Don’t freak out at Luka downstairs!”

She sighed, wishing beyond wishing that it had been a dream. That she hadn’t been kissed by a siren—a siren! Like something straight out of mythology!—last night in an attempt for said siren to become a human again and get a second chance at life while she would gain his curse of becoming a siren and losing all her memories in the process.

It was a lot to handle on a regular day much less after only a few hours of sleep. Particularly since she was going to have to face the siren that had kissed her last night. She partially wondered why on earth she thought it was a good idea to bring him home with her, but she soon recalled him telling her that since the curse was somehow split between them, they were going to have to solve this mystery together.

“I was supposed to pass that curse fully onto you,” Luka had told her on their way back home from their little dip in the Seine. He had been wearing nothing other than her jacket around his waist at the time and she kinda hoped that no one she knew saw the two of them together and wondering why she was with someone near completely nude. “But it looks like that didn’t quite happen.”

“What is the curse, anyway?”

“The curse to be a siren?” He’d quirked a brow at her, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “I don’t know all the details. What I do know is that it’s a pretty miserable fate. A siren—at least, what we are. We’re not exactly the creatures of legend—is a creature that’s doomed to be trapped in the Seine. Why we exist, I’m not sure. Though, I might know someone who could help.”

“Then we’ll go see them in the morning,” Marinette had said. She’d been cold in her soggy dress and no jacket to protect her from the surprisingly chilly night breeze. And after everything that had happened, she had been in no mood to go hunting for anything other than her bed and some sleep.

Frankly, she still was in no mood to find anything other than sleep, but the shop must be manned.

“How did you even become a siren?” she’d asked last night. “Like, how do they exist?”

She did not take it as a good sign when Luka hesitated. “All I know is that only highly emotional individuals can become sirens, and that we can pass the curse along to any other highly emotional individual. In doing so, we are free of the curse, gaining back our human body while the human becomes a siren, losing all their memories in the process.”

Losing all their memories. Meaning he didn’t know the life he lived prior to being a siren. He’d kept his name and general knowledge, but no memories. And he didn’t know if he’d regain those memories or not once he turned human. But the scary thing was Marinette didn’t yet know if she’d lose any of hers.

That was a very scary prospect, meaning this curse had to be lifted fast. She couldn’t afford not to have her memories.

Had she known what she knew now, she would have stayed far away from the Seine. Like Luka had said, it was only because she had been an emotional train wreck that he had been able to coax her with his lovely singing voice to come over the guardrail of the bridge and fall into the Seine, agreeing to a deal that she didn’t want but couldn’t have objected to.

She opened her door, ready for a peaceful and quiet morning in the kitchen to help her process everything that had happened.

Crash! Bang! Thunk!

“The heck?!”

“Who are you and what have you done with Marinette!?”

Upon hearing Adrien’s voice, Marinette’s heart raced. She sprinted down the stairs to where Luka and Adrien were going at it, Luka trying to kick his way free of Adrien’s stronghold.

“Hey!” Marinette cried.

Adrien whipped around to her voice, distracted enough for Luka to free his legs and land a kick square to Adrien’s stomach.

But despite the hit, Adrien bounced back up pretty quickly, hurrying to stand in front of Marinette like he was her personal shield. “Call the cops. I’ll keep him here until they come.”

“Wait! Whoa. Hold on!” Marinette cried, side-stepping Adrien so she could stand between the two men. “Just hold on a second. No need to call the cops for any reason. Luka is a family friend. He’s staying here for a bit, okay? He was coming through Paris to visit a friend, but he got robbed on his way, and now, he’s staying here because his wallet is gone.”

A decent enough story that Marinette had mentally rehearsed over and over last night. And she didn’t even stutter in the lie. She didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.

“O-oh.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… sorry.”

“No worries,” Luka returned, seemingly relaxed about it, but Marinette swore that Luka’s gaze was a little too intense to be genuine. “You’re just protecting your friend.”

Adrien hummed, his own shoulders set too squarely to be relaxed, either. “Yeah. I was. Marinette, could we talk?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Come on. I have an oven to start up and pastries that need to go in it.”

He nodded, grabbing a plastic bag from off the floor before following her back into the kitchen while Luka remained out in the main bakery area.

“Sorry,” he commented to her. “When I saw your jacket on the floor and a guy only in a pair of gym shorts, I kinda wondered what happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Thank you for protecting me even if I didn’t need protecting in this case.”

He sent her a sheepish, lopsided smile that made her heart race. It was not fair that he was this handsome. Not at all. Or that he was so protective over her. What girl wouldn’t want the man she had a massive crush on to feel like he had to avenge her?

“So, a family friend?” Adrien questioned. “I’ve never met him before.”

Crap. “Well, um, yeah. I met him only recently, too. His family lives a ways from here, but our moms were friends. Anyway, what brings you buy so early?”

Thankfully, it seemed Adrien bought her story and dismissed it. “Well, I was bringing you food to make you breakfast as an apology for last night.”

She froze, staring at the bag he was holding with newfound interest. “O-oh? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I feel bad about canceling, so I’m hoping this could be a start of making it up to you.”

“You needed to help your girlfriend,” Marinette said, setting on the ovens to preheat. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But it wasn’t fair that I canceled on you.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s okay,” she dismissed, lying once again. As selfish as it was, she wished Adrien had just told Kagami that he was sorry but that he had plans already. Kagami already got Adrien as her boyfriend, so why did she have to steal him away when it was Monday? That was their special night, not Kagami’s.

“It wasn’t really,” Adrien mumbled. “But thanks for understanding.”

“She’s okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Adrien dismissed with a grin. “She’s okay, but it still hurt to feel like she dishonored her family.”

“That seems unfair. I’m sorry for her to have to deal with that.” Marinette was honest about that. She couldn’t imagine that kind of pressure from her family.

Adrien hummed. “I am, too. That’s why I left my father. But enough about that.” A fake grin stretched across his face, just as it always did when talking about his dad. “I guess I’ll go make you breakfast. You and Luka, I suppose. And go apologize to Luka for, well, tackling him in the middle of the shop.”

Marinette giggled. “Not exactly the best foot to start out on.”

“No,” Adrien agreed with a chuckle. “Not really. But you’re not much better.”

A warmth seeped into Marinette’s cheeks. “Excuse you! What do you mean by that!”

“I mean we only met because you literally fell on me,” he retorted with a grin.

“It was an accident!” she cried. “And tripping over your feet is still a better way to meet someone than beating them up.”

Adrien paused. “Touché.”

“Yeah. Better believe it. Now go play nice.”

“No promises,” Adrien returned with a cheeky smile before slipping out the door.

Marinette sighed, but at least she felt more relaxed now. Hopefully, the two boys would be able to make up quickly. Luka was stuck here for the time being, no matter who liked it or not.

The morning passed decently well. Adrien was kind enough to help her with getting all the pastries and treats ready for the day as well as set up the shop. She even managed to put Luka to work, having him clean and sweep.

“You’re staying here, you work here,” she had said, only partially teasing.

He took the offered broom with a smirk. “Fair enough, boss.”

Even the morning rush wasn’t too bad. With Adrien, things always ran smoothly. Well… nearly always. While it was happening less and less frequently, there were still devoted Adrien Agreste fangirls that showed up and tried to flirt with him. But he’d gotten better at dismissing them politely.

When the morning chaos was over and things were slowing down, that was when Marinette caught sight of Kagami entering the shop with two cups of coffee in her hands. “Here,” she said, holding one out to Marinette. “An apology for yesterday.”

While surprised, Marinette took the coffee. “Thank you.”

She gave a single nod before turning her attention to Adrien, handing off the other coffee cup to him. “Are we still going out tonight?”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “After fencing practice.”

“Of course,” she said with a grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you, Kagami.”

She sent him a wave before leaving the shop.

“That was… unexpectedly kind of her,” Marinette said, looking down at the coffee she’d been brought.

“She’s kind that way,” Adrien said, setting his own cup aside. “Hey, why don’t you take a break? You’ve been working hard and deserve one. I’ve got the front.”

A break sounded fantastic. Not only could she get off her feet, and eat lunch, but she could check in on Luka who had hidden away from the commotion most of the morning. Maybe she’d train him to work the front so he could pull more of his weight. “Thanks, Adrien. Be back in thirty.”

She slipped away the back, more than happy to take off her apron and collapse into a chair.

“What was up with Ms. Moody?”

Marinette jumped at Luka’s sudden appearance beside her. After taking a breath to steady her hammering heart, she looked at him. “What? Who are you talking about?”

“The heartbroken girl that just came in,” Luka answered.

“You saw her?”

He quirked a brow. “I didn’t have anything better to do than watch from the sidelines.”

Note to self: training starts after lunch. “That’s Kagami, Adrien’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah. And she’s always curt like that.”

Luka’s lips pursed as he glanced back towards the entrance to the bakery.

“Wait,” Marinette said, pausing in the middle of the stairwell to the apartment as his words came back to her. “What do you mean by heartbroken?”

Luka scoffed. “Couldn’t you see it?”

“See what?”

Luka frowned. “Her emotions. The little butterfly that rests on her chest and shifts colors like a mood ring.”

Marinette could only blink absently. “Butterfly?”

Lua chuckled, but the sound was bitter. “You really aren’t much of a siren, are you?” he snipped with a smirk. “If you can’t tell someone’s emotions, it’s impossible to pass on the curse, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, but I couldn’t see anything. How do I know you aren’t just lying about her being heartbroken? That makes no sense. She’s happily dating Adrien.”

“Happy she is not,” Luka corrected. “I don’t know all the specifics, but if I had to guess considering Blondie isn’t touching the coffee he was given, my guess is she didn’t get his order right. Paired with that colorful butterfly on her chest, she’s still hung up on the guy who she actually ordered coffee for.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, rubbing at her temples. “I just… I don’t understand.”

Luka scoffed. “Of course not. I’m saying Blondie is a rebound. But most importantly, I’m telling you that Ms. Moody is our ticket out of this curse.”

[thecursedhellblazer-arc]

{ @imthebatman​​ }

(( Look at me actually managing to respect a deadline outside university ones...well, more or less ^^” In my defence, this turned out to be much more than I had planned for it to be, but well, it’s done xD Good thing you told me about the bday thing in advance, otherwise I would have never been able to put this together and I would have gone for something easier and less time consuming >.> ))

(( So, first of all have a shitty edit of a Beebo ready to party: ))

(( But the real present is under the cut. I was kind of tempted to post it elsewhere, like on Ao3, because it came out much longer than I thought and Tumblr posts kinda sucks, but I decided to shove it down here anyway. And yep, I did write you a song fic u.u ))

(( Happy b-day, Palps! ))

“Everyone of us hides a story made of scars and sometimes shelters in a corner„

Thick grey clouds cover the sky, heavy with a rainstorm they might never truly deliver, not a single crack of blue in sight. Then again, the sun has never been a common presence in the sky of Gotham. It would feel out of place in the gloomy atmosphere that surrounds the city and among its many, dark moods. There’s little space for light when the air is so heavy, even in the moments of apparent peace. They are, after all, nothing but an illusion, yet another calm before the tempest comes back raging again, just as the silence of that slowly dying afternoon is.

John Constantine lights up a cigarette, letting the flame linger on its as he inhales the first mouthful of smoke. In the descending darkness, his mind finds it easy to overlap the hostile skyline that stretches before his eyes with his memories of London. Another city known for her gloomy weather, for the fog that so often lingers over her buildings, soaking the people she shelters in her bosom with humidity and cold. If he closes his eyes and tries hard enough, he can still feel it, that wet sensation that dives deeper and deeper, until it settles in your bones with the silent promise of never leaving you, no matter how far from it life will take you.

He lets his head fall back slightly, slowly blowing out the smoke towards the sky, watching as it fades, confusing itself with the clouds. He misses London, hell, he misses England in general. The country was never been kind with him and most of his worst memories belongs there, together with all the unsatisfied and sometimes vengeful ghosts he has left behind, but whether he likes it or not, it still is and will always be home. Assuming that there is a single place, in this world and all the others, that he can call such. He can’t deny that it’s fitting, though. A land that has brought him mostly pain and regrets, just as the physical house he has grown up in has been his personal hell ever since he can remember.

The magician grits his teeth, mouth curling in a frown. That is a whole other set of memories that haunts him and he doesn’t even need to make an effort to recall them. Every sleepless night spent in terror. Every hit, every bruise, every insult. Every time those hands touched him, brutal, merciless, unrelenting. The images and the sensations can get vivid enough to make his stomach turn and his hands shake, even after so many years. That’s the reason why he doesn’t dwell on them, the reason why he never talks about it. Repressing is easier. It’s almost like forgetting, with the different that the phantom burden never goes away. However, the heaviness Is something he is almost used to, by now, since he is constantly carrying on his shoulders the weight if not of the world, at least of all his mistakes and bad choices. And damn, most of the times he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the two.

“So vulnerable, human heart’s an animal that doesn’t want to break cover„

It makes him wonder why he is still there. He has closed his case, the umpteenth clusterfuck that has brought him back to that city and to its lurking shadows. He has no reason to linger, especially not when that darkness calls his personal one out, causing it to resonate in tune with it. And yet there he is, perched on the railing of that balcony, skin and clothes stained with mud and blood. Not his own, for the most. It almost never is and, even when that’s the case, he always finds a way to be the last man standing, at the end of the day. The price for his life? Everything that can be taken from him and, especially, from the people who are unlucky enough to be around him, and then some more.

Constantine’s eyes slide close as he brings the cigarette back to his lips. The truth is that, despite what he tells himself, despite all the horrors and the losses he has faced, despite every lesson he has sworn to learn, he is weak. Selfishly so. He is so quick to deny others, and he is so harsh and unmovable in doing it, but with himself, oh, he has always been far too lenient. How that fits with his constant self-hatred, he isn’t completely sure. Perhaps it’s because he inevitably ends up losing everything he allows himself to have and keep, one way or the other. They have a cost, those indulgences, one that he cannot pay because he doesn’t have the means to do it. So Fate or Chance or whoever for them comes and snatches them away, sudden and violent, leaving yet another tear in his already far too broken core.

He bites back a scoff. The approaching night he’s watching now is nothing but yet another of indulgences. He knows where he wants it to lead him and he knows that he doesn’t deserve it. He should climb down the way he has climbed up, like the thief he is, and leave Gotham without looking back. He should and he would if he was enough of a decent person, but it’s been years since he has had any real shred of decency left in him. So, instead, he’ll stay and wait, as he always does. He’ll stay and take everything he can get his hands on, enjoying comforts and pleasures he has done nothing to earn. He’ll take and take and take, until the day when the tiny breach he has been using to crawl inside that small world where he doesn’t belong will be closed and he will find himself in the dark once again, alone and with yet another deep crack in his soul.

Blue eyes lock on the grey, threatening sky. It will happen, eventually, but not tonight. So, for now, he sits and soaks himself in the advancing shadows, his back to the lights that start to colour the windows of the manor. The symbolism isn’t lost to him, it never is, even if most of the times he pretends not to notice it, just to end up mulling over it later on. It’s a taste of what’s waiting ahead for him, once his time would have run out. It won’t be this quiet, though, and it won’t be this painless. The torment that fills his chest, however, that will be there, his eternal companion in death as it has been in life.

“If you want to back down I’ll try to understand but I just can’t help it I would, if I could give you a new innocence so, please don’t fear my caress„

The hand that descends on his shoulder is expected and by now very familiar, just as is the figure that presses up against his side. He has heard, or rather felt, the other man approaching him, even while lost in his thoughts, but he hasn’t turned around. He hasn’t needed to, not when he can easily imagine the whole scene in his mind without having to see it taking place in reality. Oh, his bloody imagination is just that good, but it’s a double-edged sword. His nightmares and lucid dreams are proof enough of what it can do, just as it is of how much it can wreck him when it chooses to.

Strong fingers travel down along the magician’s spine, taking in the tension that lingers in his muscles and the new tears that have been ripped in the worn material of his trench coat. However, in particular, they don’t miss how the exorcist initially reacts, stiffening even more under the touch, struggling until he manages to make himself accept it. It’s been months since they have agreed to let that thing between them officially exist, but the doubts and the reluctance are still almost as palpable as the bumps of his vertebrae.

Bruce bits back a sigh, deciding to pay no mind to it. He has almost resigned himself to the fact that there will always be a part of Constantine that will never accept his most gentle touches. The magician seems to instinctively recoil from them, as if they somehow hurt or as if he expected to get pain out of them. He has tried to bring the subject up, but John can be as stubborn as Batman himself when he chooses to and that has never led them anywhere, if not into an ugly fight. He is tempted to try again, but by now he knows the older man well enough and he can tell that, whatever he has faced that day, has been hard on him. A fact that inevitably destroys the already limited fertile ground there usually is for discussion. So, instead, the vigilante just keeps caressing, until the body under his palm has become as pliant as it’s capable of being.

“You’re a mess, Constantine,” he comments at that point, one eyebrow slightly raised and the lightest hint of amusement in his voice. What he doesn’t say is that he knows. He knows about the missing pieces and the darkness, about the stains and the scars. And he is fine with them, whether John likes to believe it or not, because he himself is far from being unblemished. He will be fine with them as long as the magician is aware that there’s no reason why he should fear Bruce and what he is willing to offer. He isn’t going to press, not even if he wishes he could, not even when he has all the rights to. And he isn’t going to ask for things that Constantine cannot give in exchange. What he demands, however, is to not be shut out and that’s something that it’s not up for discussion.

The exorcist finally turns to face the vigilante, an unimpressed look on his face. It’s a mask, a façade to hide all the thoughts that have been storming inside his mind, and they both know it. However, from Bruce’s indulgent expression, John can tell that, at least for that night, he will be allowed to keep his act up without having to try hard. It makes him feel both relieved and pained, because he has once again wrapped his hands around something he hasn’t earned and he will shamelessly drain that privilege until there will be nothing left to get out of it. Story of his life, really.

“Are we playin’ again that bloody game where we state the obvious? I know ‘m a mess, Wayne. But now, when am I not, hn?” He shoots back with an exaggerate eyeroll. He is hyperaware of the skilful hand that’s still working on the length of his spine. Bruce’s touch is always so warm and welcoming, despite the fact that he is always abusing the younger man’s time, his patience, his presence. That awareness is yet another torture for him, but at the same time he can’t help being greedy for it. “How did you know I was up ‘ere? Didn’t come in through the main door.”

The vigilante rolls his eyes, clearly making an effort to mimic exactly the gesture that has just been addressed to him. “Oh, you know. Alfred mentioned that he has seen someone in a dirty trench coat climbing along the front of the mansion,” he replies and his fingers dig in the magician’s side. It’s a playful gesture and he is pleased to see the obviously exaggerated reaction his lover offers, to play along with him. “I guessed that it had to be you.”

“Bullocks.” Constantine scoffs and turns his eyes back towards Gotham’s skyline, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “The ol’ codger ‘s always in my bloody way. Damn him.”

“Everyone of us has to face more than once that feelings are just a delusion„

Bruce’s lips curl in the shadow of a rare grin at the comeback, but when the silence threatens to fall upon them, he doesn’t stop it. Instead, he removes his hand from the older man’s back in favour of leaning against the railing with his elbows, eyes locked on the slowly darkening horizon before them. He makes sure to keep touching, his side still pressed up against the magician’s, close enough to feel him twitching and shifting. Movements so subtle that would have been lost to him if he hadn’t made sure that they shared the same space.

He bows his head slightly, to be able to run a hand through his dark hair. It’s odd to be there, willing and somewhat content, with someone who’s so radically different from. John Constantine is a continuous, often rabid flood of energy, always moving, always changing, and he has, more often than not, felt like a rock in the middle of a turbulent river. Unmovable in its stillness, because that’s what he is compared to the other man, firm and steady where the exorcist is constantly shifting and fluctuating. However, even the sturdiest rock is fated to be affected by the constant, abrasive touch of the water and, to an extent, he has known it since the very first time their paths have crossed, among the smoke and the loud music of a London night not so different from many others. Of course, he didn’t realise it, back then, but it has taken him to meet John again, several years later, and be faced with a much darker version of him to understand how deeply under his skin the other had already crawled.

His mind flies back in time, to the years that have preceded that fateful meeting and to the ones that have followed it. He remembers the people who have touched his life, the women he has courted, mostly for fun and to keep his reputation up. Their names are mostly lost to him, aside from the two he’ll never forget, because, despite the bitter end those relationships have met, they have played an essential part in making him into whom he has become.

Selina was everything his younger self has never been allowed to have before her abrupt arrival in his life. Freedom and mischief, broken rules and total disregard for the conventions of the society he has grown up in. She was the adventure, the thrill of the forbidden. Her kisses used to taste like fresh air and carelessness. Her touches were sweet oblivion from the responsibilities. Taking her hand was stepping into new, unexplored worlds. In the end, she had slipped from his fingers while he was distracted by Gotham’s call, going where he couldn’t follow, just as the wild animal she has always been.

Rachel, on the other hand, was sweetness and stability. She was a bright light against Gotham’s endless gloominess, a gentle warmth capable of heating up the coldest night. Kissing her brought back, for the illusion of a moment, the innocence he lost at a far too young age. The way her hands moved on his body whispered promises of a home where he could have, if not forgotten, at least finally moved on from the pain and the losses. Holding her hands used to bring him comfort as nothing else in his life ever has. In the end, she had been a painful but necessary sacrifice, because the world she was promising him, as desirable and tempting, would have implied abandoning his cape and his duty to the city.

“So much wasted time making a fool of our pride just to come to the bitter conclusion„

Bruce slowly licks his lips. Now, both women are gone from his life. They linger, though, as ghosts from his past, reminding him of how fleeting feelings can be and what delusions they charm you with. Leaving them behind has been hard, it has taken a long time and, in the aftermath, it has pushed him to come to the conclusion that the only one he would always be faithful to, the only one he would never be able to resist would be Gotham.

Thinking about it now, he can tell that it has been easier than expected, to choose to wear the mask and the cape and to dedicate all of himself to the Night. She has always welcome him with open arms, with her secrets, her dangers, her battles. It has always felt right, like nothing else ever has. And so he has been fighting the madness that sprouts from her shadows ever since. Or, perhaps, the truth is that he has started his fight much before choosing to become Batman. Perhaps he has been sworn to the city and to its darkness since that night in that alley, when he has been left on his knees, between the lifeless bodies of his parents, screaming at the sky in agony for what had been so brutally stolen from him. Maybe it has been then that he signed his destiny, without even realising it.

A bitter, pained smile touches his lips at those thoughts. Even nowadays, despite everything he has gone through, he can tell without a doubt that he has found his calling and that the prices he has paid to follow it have been worth what he has got. It doesn’t make the sacrifices less painful, it doesn’t make the solitude less heavy to bear, but he is aware that, at the end of the day, the regrets won’t be burdening him enough to cause him to fall in the abyss he can see under his feet.

“I know, it hurts to mend all the shattered hopes but would you truly tell me that it isn’t worth pricking yourself with its thorns if it’s done to pick a rose?„

Bruce’s eyes leave the now dark sky and land on John once again. The man sitting next to him is the one variable he could have never predicted. He materialised on his path like a bolt from the blue, and definitely as dangerous as one. A walking bunch of cigarettes and arrogance, dressed in a trench coat that has seen much better days, incomprehensible but powerful words between his lips and nothing less than real magic on his fingertips. A ticking bomb shaped like a man, dragging the chains of a mysterious and yet obviously wrecked past and of his literally damned future. And yet, there he stood, still managing not to give a flying fuck about everything and everyone.

He remembers very clearly his own reaction, the first time they met after so many years. Batman was utterly annoyed by his flamboyant, caustic attitude and Bruce, from behind the mask, wondered where the messed up but still somehow hopeful young man he had found himself entangled with in London ended up. Constantine is not what he used to be, not even close, not even behind the parts of his act that are just for show. The sharpness and the cynicism in his eyes immediately made it clear, more than any rude word or flare of anger could ever have.

Peeling off all those crusted layers of smugnesss and exaggerated self-confidence hasn’t been easy, especially since the magician has fought him back at every step, but, all considered, it hasn’t taken too long for the self-loathing, the scars and the endless pit of regrets to emerge. John hasn’t lied, with his earlier answer. He always is a mess, a bunch of shattered pieces held together by a lot of bravado and willpower, and none of them is where it should be. He has seen the never healed wounds and the blood on the magician’s fingers, the only results of his vain attempts to get the shards back into a semblance of wholeness. And, before he could realise it, he was being overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and take his hands, mend the cuts, stop him from giving up on himself over and over again.

The truth is that he is still trying. Trying to make himself respect the limitations he has been given, trying to make it be enough, despite wanting so much more. However, Constantine has been adamant and he knows what it would mean breaking the rules he has willingly accepted. For all the contingency plans Batman has, Bruce himself tends to be defenceless, when his feelings are on the line. And he has seen how vengeful John can be, never above playing dirty, never above stomping over every single boundary, if it means achieving his goal. He would have found a way to get back at him, of course, eventually, but the irreparable damage would have been done anyway.

On good days, he tells himself that seeing the shock on the older man’s face that day, when he has chosen to put his heart in his callous hands, when he has chosen that “nasty piece of work” over everything else the world has to offer, has, on its own, almost made it worth the fights, the pain, the struggling. Then, there are the rare times when he has been allowed to see John blooming, with power, wits and a determination as bright as the light of his spells. In those moments, watching his shattered soul soaring, even if just through the hellish sky it is trapped in, aside from making him fall a bit more in love each time, vanishes every lingering doubt.

“I can’t promise you eternity but bare your soul for me Whatever it takes, you won’t regret having yourself let go once again„

“I’ll never bleedin’ get what you find so enticin’ ‘bout this soddin’ place.”

The exorcist’s voice breaks the silence and he turns to find Bruce staring at him. Oh, he has been aware of those eyes locked on him for some time now and that’s the reason why he has decided to speak up. There is something, in the younger man’s expression, that’s making him uneasy. He knows that look far too well by now and that’s the problem. His lover gets it every time he is thinking about something deep, something that involves him, or, rather, them. It doesn’t always lead to an attempt of conversation, thankfully, but it always gets too close to his sore spots for comfort.

His words gain him a raised eyebrow and he shakes his head because, despite what he has chosen to say, he doesn’t want to have that kind of conversation. Also because, among the other things, it would have forced him to admit that his statement is, for the most, a lie. He does understand the dark charm of Gotham far too well, not because he experiences it himself, hell no. As much in tune as that place can be with his own darkness, he is more than content to fuck off somewhere else whenever he has a chance to. No, the reason why he understands the strength of Bruce’s sense of duty, the reason why he knows exactly why the city will be, always and anyway, the younger man’s first priority is what John himself feels about magic. It’s not the same, and in his eyes Batman’s mission would always be, in spite of everything, much purer, less selfish, less corrupted. However, it’s the closest thing to a reflection of his own twisted existence that he has ever found in someone else’s life. And it’s why, perhaps, he shouldn’t be so surprised to see how willing the vigilante is to keep him around, to cherish him, despite all the deadly warning signs. They can be together while still prioritising their respective calling over everything else.

He chews the butt of his cigarette for a moment, and his eyes are looking lost once again. What they have couldn’t be further away from perfect, but, then again, it couldn’t be otherwise when people like them, all bruised and broken in different ways, are involved. It’s part of the reason why it works, even if all the odds are against it. And yet, he still feels bitter, now that he knows the stories behind Bruce’s past relationships. The way life has forced the younger man to choose or put a limit to the time he had to enjoy the bright sides of those bonds. John might have given up, at least for the most, on trying to push his lover to not choose him, but he cannot do the same with the time limit. There’s a clock ticking above his head, eating up, one by one, the seconds that separate him from that spot in Hell that has had his name for a long time now. And he will get himself damned again and again and again, endlessly, before he takes Bruce down with him. Denying the so often sung shared eternity of love is a gift, in their case.

He sucks in the last mouthful of smoke, hard enough that he can feel the burning down his throat and against his fingers, where his skin meets the burning hand of the now finished cigarette. There is no space for wistful poetry in what they share. Everything is harsh and desperate, ruled by the awareness of its limits, even in their quieter, warmer moments. Their shared passion always tastes like stolen time, and each kiss might as well be the last. It’s all just another story damned to end in tragedy, in flames, swallowed by the darkness. And yet, despite what he keeps saying, despite what he believes, there is still a part of him who wants to make it worth. For Bruce, mainly, but for himself too. He ascribes it to a streak of his selfishness, because that’s all it is…isn’t it?

But can it really be just selfishness, when you are fighting to make things better, even knowing that you won’t get to get an advantage for yourself out of it?

“Take me and make me as you want I’ll feed your dreams with my love„

Bruce feels the change in the mood even before John moves. There’s a sudden spike in the buzzing energy that constantly surrounds the magician and it usually indicates that he is about to do something either reckless or stupid. Or both, since when Constantine is involved the two things are, in most cases, the same. He isn’t sure what to expect, because his lover has the bad habit of being too hard to predict, and that’s one of the many things that Batman hates about him, because it makes the exorcist an incredibly volatile, untrustworthy ally. However, there is no cape or spell standing between them in that moment, and so, when the older man climbs off the railing, sets his feet down on the balcony and then lunges at him, he lets him, without a split moment of hesitation.

The kiss is bruising, hard, merciless. All teeth and tongue, no finesse, no patience, no softness. But it’s filled with scorching heat and the vigilante can’t stop himself from going weak, even if he would never admit it, because, when he can’t hold back the intensity that characterises all he is, John Constantine kisses both like a drowning man, lacing to the last gulp of oxygen he is being allowed, and like a starved demon, hellbent of devouring his soul.

Despite the force of the contact, though, he can feel the magician’s hands shaking, from where they are wrapped in the front of his jumper, pinning him against the railing. If it wasn’t so tragic, he could have appreciated the irony in seeing someone so arrogant and bold, a man who has gone as far as conning the Devil himself and mostly got away with it, so terrified of something as natural as love should be. If Bruce didn’t know exactly how it feels like, he would have been fascinated by how something human as emotional closeness can rip apart every barrier Constantine has so carefully built around himself, revealing the vulnerabilities, the fragility and the open wounds that are hidden under it.

He knows all of that, just as John is aware of it as well. It’s a struggle for the magician to keep himself there in those moments, because there is nothing he dreads more than feeling so exposed. It makes him want to fight and, if he can’t fight, then it makes him want to run. And he has, at first, denying the feelings he felt coming from Bruce, denying the ones that have been growing inside his own chest. Now, trying not to is part of the terms of their deal he has to respect, even when the instinct screams so loud inside his mind that he can’t hear his own thoughts.

And yet, here he is. And yet here he stays. It might be a selfish choice, it might be stealing what he doesn’t deserve, but there is more to it, for them both. There is a something new budding in the time and in the space they shared, stubborn as just the two of them can be. It’s a feeling, it’s a reality, it’s a dream. Its nature is hard to tell, so foreign and yet so familiar. One thing, though, seems certain: it might be doomed to meet a tragic ending, but that doesn’t stop it from fighting to survive everything that’s coming in its way.

“You’re trembling and I can see what you feel inside you a shy bud’s already blooming„

[neverwatchedonepiece]

601-602: "Shaking up the New World! Caesar's Horrendous Experiment!" and "The Deadliest Weapon of Mass Destruction in History! Shinokuni"

Don’t think Law’s up for it, Caesar...

This may be a controversial opinion, but I think Caesar is great.

Not a great person, obviously. I mean, if you think Caesar is a wonderful person, you probably need therapy. But. As a character? As a villain in the crapsaccharine world of OP which is rammed with strong personalities? Yeah. Absolutely a good, fun-time villain.

So far, he is unrepentantly, unashamedly wicked. He is a business-minded, deceitful, manipulative snake with charisma through the roof, who also happens to be an excellent scientist. He has a flamboyant, dramatic, highly-strung personality, which is super entertaining. He has a memorable design and a hilariously expressive face. (YMMV, of course. I know a lot of people hate villains like Caesar, but I love them.)

It’s early days yet. I mean something could yet happen that might make me go off him (e.g. I hate it when villains are woobified). But right now, Caesar is stealing the show. I look forward to watching each episode because I wonder what that deranged monster is going to do next.

Now Luffy and Law’s fight back is about to begin, I await his screeching downfall with baited breath. (As much as I love villains, I also love watching their plans unravel.)

Last Christmas, a Clown Kept Your Heart

And the very next day, he gave it away.

Next year, to save himself tears, 

Law allied with Strawhat Luffy.

I’ll bet that joke has been done to death, undeath, and back again, but come on! Who can resist such low-hanging fruit? Caesar Clown is the gift that keeps on giving.

He was on sparkling form again across episodes 601 and 602.

The action kicked in with Smoker’s Marines hammering at Caesar’s front door. One Marine began to notice they were the only ones left outside. Caesar’s minions had hoofed it round the back. Wasn’t that strange? He was ignored. (Don’t worry. We heard you, random fodder Marine.)

An airship passed overhead (they must be a thing in the OPverse as the Marines recognised it.) Caesar arrived with the Lab Kiddies in tow.

“Come on, children, you can get off now,” he sang. “And remember, this is your home. Don’t ever go out on your own. And of course you can have candy soon. Go straight back to the biscuit room. I’ve left plenty of candy in there for you. Now, I have to go back to my research room. Relax and enjoy the delicious, delicious candies.”

Trans: you kids are bugging me already. Beat it back to your room so I can get back to marketing my chemical weapons to dodgy brokers round the world.

The black-haired girl called Mocha had a flash of regret. She was lucid for just long enough to realise she’d just walked right back into hell again. “Nami and the others were very nice to me!” she screamed, banging on the door, “why is it so scary here? Is it because I’m not a good child?” (Caesar must have said stuff like that to them before. Bad things happen to you if you’re not a good child. I only give my crack-candy to the good children, etc.)

Back in Caesar’s lounge/bar whatever it is, Vergo got a fucking spoon stuck on his face while drinking coffee. That guy must have adhesive stubble, or something. He was wondering what was taking Caesar so long?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right? 

The first thing Caesar did was apologise to Vergo for keeping him waiting. At this point I still had no idea why Vergo was there. To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure why Vergo showing up is a bad thing for Law. Like, of course Caesar would rat out a threat to his boss, but if Caesar had Law’s heart, he could have just squished it once Monet told him Law had been making arrangements with the Strawhats behind his back.)

Caesar bitched that Vergo didn’t have Smoker under better control (because when Smoker showed up, Caesar had a brief ohshit moment). Vergo admitted that Smoker is a wild card and that no one has control of him. Buuuuut.... now Smoker will be dead soon, so it was all cool.

Law Pushes Caesar’s Buttons

Caesar, who had missed the welcome party, took a moment to become acquainted his his new hostages and indulge in a spot of button pushing.

“Look at yourself, Law. I bet you were quite helpless against Vergo, hm? The deal I had with you worked in my favour.”

Now the heart-in-a-box squishing stuff makes much more sense. Turns out Law can also shamble his own heart into a box (not the best idea when dealing with a treacherous snake of a scientist, to be honest).

When Law first turned up, looking to stay on Punk Hazard, Caesar said: “In exchange for letting you stay, you’re going to give my people legs? Fine. But since you’re stronger than me and I’M the boss of this island, if you want to stay here, I need insurance. I want to entrust my dear secretary Monet’s heart to you. In return, I keep your heart and it’s a deal. As long as we have each other by the balls, you can’t do anything bad and I’ll feel safe.”

Interesting. Caesar sees Law as being stronger than him. Probably a known haki user? Caesar can’t be that strong then. He’s just tricky and/or has a strong fruit. Also, notice Caesar did not volunteer his own heart. He volunteered Monet’s.

For a moment I wondered why Caesar was blaming Law for the whole trust issue. Hadn’t Caesar called Vergo on Law for some random, unknown reason?

Nah, turns out Monet had overheard Law’s plan to kidnap him and forge an alliance with the Strawhats.

I mean, sure Caesar is pretty evil and all, but if I were him and my lodger was teaming up with some dude and planning to kidnap me, I’d call my boss for backup too. Why he gave the heart to Vergo is kind of a mystery, but whatever. I’ll find out soon enough if I need to know.

Law, being caught out, went straight for the roast.

“You’ve been saved by your diligent secretary, eh? I should’ve been more careful about Monet. Since the “Master” was so dumb, I didn’t care much.”

Ooooooooh, Caesar was maaaaaaad. He hates being called dumb. (I bet it’s that superiority complex. Vegapunk has always been the glorious, lauded genius while he has to work in the shadows for psychos.) 

Just before Caesar took out his wounded ego on Smoker’s heart, Monet said the Smiley-cam video feed was ready. 

No, You Didn’t, You Sentient Gas-Blob Murderer! How Could You?

So Caesar immediately switched his attention to his Big Marketing Campaign. A caged Marine could wait. Not a priority.

All over the OPverse, brokers and dodgy characters watched Caesar’s Big Moment (by the way, did I see Laffite in 602? I spied a tall top hat and a bottle of Jack Daniels-type booze on a table). 

Caesar gleefully explained how Smiley worked. Smiley was the HS2 poison gas bomb that killed almost everything on Punk Hazard four years ago. However, there was a problem with Caesar’s experiment last time round. It killed *almost* everything. Despite being at death’s door, some inconvenient survivors insisted on surviving. How rude!

To counteract that, he has given Smiley a boost that will sort the whole survivors issue.

And, oh, the fake tears! The hilarity when Smiley would not do what the fuck Caesar said. “SMILEY, I MISSED YOU! THIS BRINGS BACK WONDERFUL MEMORIES OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION! I HAVE A DELICIOUS TREAT FOR YOU---- WAIT, DON’T EAT THAT NOW... well, um... I suppose it’s okay... YES, HAHAHAHA, EAT THE TREAT!”

You’re not fooling anyone, Caesar. xD

The giant candy Smiley munched fizzed like a seltzer. Smiley was not feeling so good. It was kind of a shame, actually. I’d grown to like Smiley. It was like a giant, deadly, disobedient dog who does not listen to a word its human says when food is involved.

And Caesar disguised Smiley’s death as a treat.

With a Slasher Smile Like That, You Probably Petrify People on a Daily Basis

Well, Caesar would say Smiley is reborn. “Good work, Smiley! I will see you again! Be reborn, Smiley!”

But Smiley is definitely dead. (The whole bit with the apples was kind of confusing but I think I’ve worked it out... Smiley must have eaten an animal DF to become the sentient gas blob he was. This explains why the shot kept panning to apples in a sack. Then, when Smiley died, one of them turned into a Devil Fruit. Smiley had given it up when he died.)

R.I.P, Smiley.

And welcome Shinokuni, the Land of Death: the latest and greatest weapon of mass destruction!

Caesar definitely must’ve fallen out the psycho tree and hit every branch on the way down when he was a kid, because, man, that guy was *way* too excited to watch his fodder goons come croppers to Shinokuni. 

“Yes! It worked! No one can get away this time. The problem last time was survivors. They could still run even after being poisoned. This gas clings to their skin like ash, enters through the kind and paralyses the whole body! Yes, give us a good glimpse of hell!”

Now, I don’t know if any of you guys have ever watched a movie called Event Horizon, but there’s this messed up scene when the rescue crew discover the ship’s log of the crew who disappeared on a spaceship seven years before. The log is... yeah... it’s messed up. It’s like a glimpse of hell. (Don’t google it if you hate horror movies.)

(Something tells me Caesar would have been totally okay on the Event Horizon. Knowing him, it probably would have been his fault. He’d be in a room, absolutely fine, while literal hell is breaking loose outside on deck. xD)

That Moment When Everyone Really Hopes It’s Usopp

While Caesar is sacrificing pets to achieve an upgraded pet, the rest of the Strawhats were still outside while the Purple Mountain of Oh Shit What Is That? was thundering down the mountain and over the island. 

Zoro, Sanji, Brook and Foxfire had a front row seat! They were smart and ran sideways. This bought them a bit of time while Caesar’s minions were Pompeii’d. 

And that running scene was golden, by the way. I’m disappointed I limited myself to one screenshot of it. Loved it when Sanji tried to figure out what was going on and Foxfire yelled, “Shut up and run!”

Zoro was generally impressed by the all-round quality of running on show, but suggested if the assembled could run faster than the wind, that’d be great. Luckily, they caught up with a sled-pulling dragon (that Caesar deliberately set free so his minions would be stranded). I’m guessing the dragon will head home and that will be how Zoro and the others end up back in Caesar’s lab.

Nami and Usopp also managed to hitch a ride before the Purple Gas Cloud of Doom hit their patch of the mountain. Brownbeard hauled himself out from under a huge metal pipe. He gained the strength to do this from sheer hatred of Caesar Clown (lol). Brownbeard wants to save his crew from Caesar, which is kind of nice. He’s a good guy after all. Usopp suggested they join forces because they wanted to save the experiment kids from Caesar.

Brownbeard knows where the lab is and probably knows most of the entrances. He’ll smuggle Nami and Usopp inside no bother, I’ll bet.

Caesar’s Need To Show Off Will Be His Undoing

While most of the free Strawhats were hauling ass away from the Purple Cloud That Is No Longer Smiley (I’m still weirdly bitter about Smiley), Luffy, caged in the lab watched as Zoro and the others ran faster than the wind. Once Luffy established that, hey, the Samurai Guy getting his legs back was not a top priority right now, (lol, Robin!) he tried to shout advice to Zoro.

Unfortunately, Luffy, you can’t shout through a video feed. But Caesar hear him and floated over to gloat. “Are they your friends, Strawhat? Unsurprising. They’re strong. But soon they’ll run out of breath and be poisoned. And eventually, there will be only an uninhabitable land of death. No one outside this lab will survive. And neither will any of you! Now, prove it to the world! Before this weapon of mass destruction, a pirate with a 400 million bounty, a Vice-Admiral and even a Shichibukai are totally helpless against a tide of death.”

A lever was pulled.

And I think Caesar made his big mistake: letting the Strawhats out of his sight.

Law (I think it was him) chucked a rolled up message to Chopper, who fretted in the shadows about what to do. “Don’t do anything.”

This Face Does Not Bode Well for Caesar

Because now the Strawhats are out of Caesar’s line of sight, they can talk tactics, regroup and launch their fight back.

Can’t help but think if Caesar had not insisted on using the Strawhats as an example, he could have disposed of them quietly in the lab, or used them as test subjects forever. Of course, that would have been - bam! - end of manga. And we cannot have that.

Three cheers for Caesar’s need to show off! His arrogance and ego have prolonged the plot!

Thank you, Caesar, for that one dumb thing you did. xD

Chopper saw what you did that one time and is judging you.

[lepapillonbrise]

Brand New World

Summary: Squeal to “Something Missing.” Klavier woke up to realize he’s somewhere different. Somewhere new to him. It’s a brand new world, yet at the same time, familiar. The only difference is: someone he’s never met before can only exist in this reality he’s in.

Klapollo, AU/OoC, Klavier’s PoV.

Warning(s): Yaoi ( boyXboy ) for those Yaoi haters. I guess that is it.

Pairing(s): Klapollo ( Klavier Gavin / Apollo Justice ).

Note(s): Please be as harsh as you could.

I’m sorry if I got any spelling wrong. The only spelling corrections I have are google. So, if I made any mistakes, tell me.

Criticism is welcome.

Enjoy! xD x3

X-X-X-X Klavier’s PoV

“Hey, Prosecutor Gavin?”

Was?

“Hey, you awake? I’m here.”

Where am I?

I sat up, only to realize what had happened. Grunting, I look over to see…

Who is this guy?

I swear, these dreams. Though, I guess that’s probably what happens. Still, am I having a lucid dream right now? I eye’d the boy, only to realize he’s probably someone I never met before.

I stretch, as he waved a hand in front of me. I look over to see a concerned look.

Schweigen.

What the hell is he wearing?

It almost looks like a bright brown. Yet, it’s not. I can’t seem to put my finger on it, because that sure is something I’ve never seen before.

What ever it is, it must be normal where he lives, because the boy just seemed concerned.

“Prosecutor Gavin?” He asked, “What’s wrong? You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”

Ach, was I really?

“Ja, of course.” I smiled, “How… Did you get here?”

“Through bike, of course.” The boy frowned though, “Mr. Edgeworth called me to come over. You were late coming to work this morning, so he had me come visit.”

“Herr Edgeworth. Of course.” I blinked, “Um, I guess I’ll get ready, ja?”

I might as well pretend.

I’m definitely not home anymore.

Where am I?

X-X-X-X

He followed me every where.

Even to my office, and stopping by Herr Edgeworth’s office. He kept a serious look upon his face, and he seems to be keeping an eye on me.

He’s not a fan, since he didn’t like the music I played in the car. Yet he knows me, very well, since he knew how I like my coffee.

I don’t think I told anyone. So, is he just a colleague, that I’m working with? Whoever he is, he’s someone that is close.

Herr Edgeworth was even wearing the same strange… Color. What is going on here? Where am I?

I got some information I needed when someone decided to call him. That was a very pretty ringtone. I could tell it was remixed, so what was the original like? Where was the singer?

“Hello?” He paused, before giving that same concerned look, “No. No, just send Trucy. I’m… Spending time in the Prosecutor’s office today. I’ll text you… Why… Please, just Trucy, it seems like… No, no, it’s not like that…”

I realize I like the sound of his voice. He’s been trying to talk to me all day, maybe I should respond more.

“I… Fine, I’ll text Athena.” He continued, before glancing at me, “Just… Just send Trucy over, okay? Thanks, Mr. Wright.”

Schweigen.

Herr… Herr Wright?

With that, he hung up, before uncomfortably sitting down across from me.

“I see you’d like to be left alone.” He said, quietly, “Usually you’re more… Talkitive by now, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“Was?” I lean on the table, “Nien, I am just… My mind just isn’t at the right place.”

“Oh?” He gripped at a golden bracelet, around his wrist, “Is that so? Um… May I ask you how you are feeling? You must be very sick. You feeling okay, Prosecutor Gavin?”

Nien. Not at all.

“Ja.” I lie, hands on the desk, “Since this morning, I’ve just been… Out of it?”

“You might be coming down with something.” He kept an intense stare. “Though, I can’t really say, unless I get symptoms, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“Ach, of course.” I thought about it, “Slight… Headache. My stomach is a little queasy. I do feel tired. A little.”

Schweigen.

“Prosecutor Gavin… Alright. I guess I could give you some medicine when you get home.” He reached into his pocket to take out a phone to start texting, “I’ll come over later today, with medicine. Okay?”

“Ach, you don’t need to do that.” I tried a smile, “I’m sure it’s just minor… Fatigue. I did stay up pretty late last night, ja?”

“What for?”

“Music.” I answer. If anything, they’d at least know I still write music, “For the Gavinners, ja?”

His eyes widen, before looking down. Frowning.

Mehr stille.

Did I say something wrong? He seems displeased.

“Well, I figured that, Prosecutor Gavin.” He stood up, before glancing at the time, “Trucy might be here any minute, so I don’t have a whole lot of questions to ask you. I have a lot more.”

“Well, you don’t need to ask them all at once.” I kept my smile, trying to keep friendly, “Maybe one question for now, ja?”

“Since when did you decide to bring the Gavinners back together?”

Was!?

“You disbanded your band after your… B-Brother was put away, remember?” He suddenly seemed hurt, “Plus, minus one guitarist, I’m sure it would’ve been hard to keep it together, Prosecutor Gavin.”

Suddenly, I was frozen with fear. Not knowing what to say.

What happened? What happened!?

He stared at me for a bit before crossing his arms.

“Who are you?” He slammed his hands on my desk. I jumped, startled. “You’re not the Prosecutor Gavin I know! Let alone a fan of his!”

“Wait, wait! Listen to me!” I waved my hands up defensively, “You’re right, but I am indeed Klavier Gavin!”

“You’re obviously not! Please be honest with me!” He seems tensed up, “I can tell if you’re lying or not.”

“Okay, okay! I-I’ll tell the truth.”

“That’s better.”

He calmed down, though he still kept that intense stare. Holding his wrist.

Schweigen.

“You… You gotta trust me on this.” I calmly said, grabbing his hand, “Promise me you’ll believe me?”

“No promises.” He frowned, pulling away now, “Just tell the truth.”

I gulped, before looking down to both my hands. Not sure how I’d bring this up.

“… I really am Klavier Gavin.” I answered, “I know so, because… I-I know what I presented when Herr Wright lost his badge.”

Mehr stille.

“You do?” He relaxed a bit more, before giving a concerned look, “But why bring your band back together? I thought you disbanded because of your brother, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“T-That… That information is…” I paused as he reached for that strange bracelet. I sighed. “I… Woke up this morning. I-I don’t even know where I am, nor who you are. I-I… Where I come from, that color you’re wearing doesn’t exist.”

“W-What…?” His… Bangs? His bangs drooped as he gave the most annoyed look, “You gotta be kidding me.”

“I’m not joking!” I waved my hands up defensively. “I-It’s been like this since I woke up. Believe me, I-I’m confused too! I don’t understand how you know I’m lying, but I’m speaking the honest truth right now!”

Mein Gott, this is ridiculous. I should’ve brushed him off by now, but he just refuses to leave. Not that I mind, just, I didn’t know he’d be a thorn to my side. I began to sigh as he kept an eye on me.

Though, he relaxed after a while.

“… Y-You’re… N-Not our… Prosecutor Gavin.” He whispered, after a while. He backed up, eyes wide, “You’re… Y-You’re… From an entirely… Different reality.”

“… Y-You believe me. J-Just like that?”

“I-It’s the only logical explaination.” He suddenly seemed heartbroken, “You’re not lying. Let alone the type to… Make this up.”

“You seem to be the type to… Not take this kinda shit seriously.” I began to catch my breath, after holding it for so long, “Why… Why believe me?”

Mehr stille.

“I know you’re not the type of person to lie to me, Prosecutor Gavin.” He finally answers, “You were always honest, and never once told a lie, until now. L-Leave it to you for you to make this up, and m-make me believe every word you’d say.”

“Was?”

“Well, nonetheless, I-If you happen to have some questions about our… World. Let me know.” His bangs remained drooped throughout his monologue, “I’ll answer them the best I can.”

Ach, I get it.

He isn’t a fan, yet he…

We must’ve spent a lot of time together, huh? Does my other self feel the same with him?

“Do you happen to know… Why he disbanded?” I lean on the desk as he messed with his bracelet. I couldn’t help but notice how he kept messing with it, “Was it… Really ‘cause of my… His brother?”

“Um. Yeah. He really wanted to focus on law.” He replied, pressing a finger upon his forehead, “I don’t get why, though. I just know that music was what he really loved.”

“I… I think he still does.” I looked around the office, “Consider his office as evidence.”

“Why would he give up making it?” He specified, frowning now, “I’d imagine he’d still love making it, but why not share it? I may not like it, that doesn’t mean he can stop, just for me.”

He sighed, as he checked his phone. He rose an eyebrow. Before walking up to check on the door. Pausing, as if listening to something. He than walked to me, with the most annoyed look.

“Trucy should’ve been here by now.” He answered my next question, “She’s… In your reality, right?”

“Ja, of course.” I decided to look down. “She lives with Herr Wright, and everything.”

“And?” He rose an eyebrow, “Anyone else?”

He seems to understand me pretty well.

“N-Nien.” I shake my head, “Just Fräulein Magician and Herr Wright.”

Schweigen.

“Oh, I guess there wouldn’t be any more reason to lie.” He looked down, “So, Zak still ran away from Mr. Wright, and left his daughter behind.”

He sounded angry.

“Calm down.” I walk up to him, as he looked up to me. He’s really short. I hesitantly reached for something to hold, before just holding them behind my back. “No matter what, I’m sure Fräulein Magician is still alright. She’s just been… Playing tricks.”

He seemed displeased at first, before relaxing. He sighed, again.

“You’re right.” He pressed a finger to his forehead. Frowning. “She’s brave enough to handle herself. So, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course.” I smile now, “So, I got one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“How ‘bout I help you… With the other me?”

“Wh-What!?”

Ach, he’s cute. I can see why my other self decided to only focus on law.

If only he existed in the same reality as me.

X-X-X-X

Fräulein Magician decided to show up when I brought out a piece of paper.

She kept a bright smile upon her face as she came to visit, and I needed help as to how I act around her. He gave such helpful hints, and I was finally ready.

Sort of.

She came back in, with the brightest smile she could give me.

She’s acting waaaaaaaaay different than how she usually acts. Waaaaaaaaay different.

In fact, it’s a surprise she has emotion in the first place!

“Guten tag, Fräulein!” I smile back, as she bounced on the balls of her feet. I leaned on the desk, “Forgive me, I’ve been feeling sick since this morning. I may act a little… Out of it, ja?”

“I know! Polly told me!” She gave a polite bow, “That’s why, I decided to come and cheer you up!”

“Cheer me up?” Polly? That’s cute. “That’s sweet of you, Fräulein!”

“This is one of my best tricks, so watch and be amazed!” She pulled out a pair of… Bloomers? Than decided to snap to a beat, “One, two, three, and… Tah dah!”

She took out a phone of some sort.

Wait, wasn’t that… His phone?

He gave that annoyed look as she held it up with the brightest of smiles.

“Whoa! How did you do that?” I gasp, as I realized what just happened, “That’s impressive as always, Fräulein!”

“Thanks!” She tipped her hat, giving the most smug look, “Told ya you’d be amazed!”

’Polly’ decided to step in, before grabbing my wrist. He seems through with this. He snatched the phone out of Fräulein Magician’s hand, before giving her a strange look.

She suddenly seemed concerned.

’Polly’ just decided to gesture to the paper in my hand, before I realize what he was getting at.

Right. I owe him an explaination on how to do this.

“Ach, right.” I smile, “You take the Fräulein home, and you can come over later to finish this paperwork, ja? Won’t be too much of a hassle.”

“Will you be home?”

Ahh, the double meaning.

“Of course.” I chuckle, “Though, I don’t know how long I’m gonna stay, ja? I may go out later.”

Schweigen.

He nods after a while, before I decided to finish paperwork. He leaves, albeit, a bit hesitantly. Was he really afraid I’ll be gone? I’d still be basically the same person either way, ja?

Still, I’m glad to have met him during my lifetime.

X-X-X-X

I headed home, only to write down some instructions, and a note.

I decided to pick up the phone, to call Fräulein Detective.

“What do you want, fop?”

Ach, she sounds angrier than usual.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick up the papers from your office. I plan on stopping by anyways for an upcoming case.”

It’s a surprise has emotion at all, like Fräulein Magician.

“Mr. Edgeworth has the details of the case ready, and he expects you to find the truth. It’s a pretty open and shut case for you, though, so you shouldn’t worry.”

Really? Usually Herr Edgeworth calls to make sure I lose the case, which yeah. I don’t mind losing, but he expects this case to be an open and shut case? That’s something new for me. Did my counterpart win often?

“… You’re more… Quiet then usual, fop. Message me what’s wrong. I can bet it’s Apollo again.”

Apollo?

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me. You quit your music career for this guy, damn. Look, I can tell you’re spacing out, so I’ll take it easy for today. Don’t expect me to lighten up the next time we meet.”

With that, she hung up, and I couldn’t help but feel… Something. It felt good, and almost comforting, in a strange way.

Fräulein Detective is nice for once, I guess this new feeling is associated with that. I guess she was a good friend.

I decided to give another person a call.

“Hello?”

A new woman answered the phone.

I only called Herr Wright.

“Oh, Prosecutor Gavin, you must’ve called for Apollo. Hold on, he’s not home yet. I’ll have to see if he calls back. Merci.”

Was she French?

“It seems like everyone is okay! Estoy Bien!”

Now she’s Spanish?

“Beeile dich, you seem to be hesitating on me!”

Now, German? Don’t tell me she’s just throwing in some random languages to spice up her speech.

Mein Gott, like I’m the one to talk.

“That’s sweet of you to check up on us, Prosecutor Gavin.”

Actually, I just wanted to make sure ’Apollo’ was home. Though, since he’s working with them, I guess I’d better agree.

“You seemed to have hesitated there, Prosecutor Gavin. Well, Apollo did warn us you were feeling sick. I can hear why. You sound completely off.”

How? I’m sure I sounded no different.

“Anyways, Apollo is on his way, my phone just let me know… Good to know he’s taking care of you, well.”

In return, I help him out with his version of my counterpart.

“You’re lucky, Prosecutor Gavin. He seems like a great guy. I wish you two luck.“

Schweigen.

”Anyways, ugh, I gotta clean the toilet again. Apollo is too busy with Trucy’s magic shows, and I know Boss won’t do it. So, I’ll talk to ya later, ja?“

This could be good-bye. I don’t know if she exists in my world.

”Tschüss.“

With that, she hung up. I plotted down onto the couch.

I just met her, and I suddenly feel like I lost her, already. As a close friend.

This new feeling, than the sudden realization that I’d never meet them again just doesn’t sit right. The same people may exist in my world, but…

Not him.

It’s not right. Why did this switch happen if it’s temporary? If it isn’t, why make my counterpart suffer at the loss of a…

Dear… Dear… Friend?

Suddenly, I’d probably be happy with just… Meeting him.

I’d be happy to know I’ve met him in my life. I’d be happy to know he exists. Funny. Love across different universes. That seems like fiction, but here I am.

Happy to have met him… I’d settle with that, no matter how heart wrenching it is.

Knock knock. He’s here. He came in, with a small smile upon his face.

“So, um, hiya.” His hair was drooped, despite his smile, “Prosecutor Gavin?”

“Ach, hello.” I wave, as he sat down. “I’m still here. I think I go away when I eventually pass out.”

“Really? Well, considering you woke up, I guess going to sleep would send you back.” He pressed a finger to his forehead, “So, what do I need to do when… He comes back? If that happens?”

“I wrote down some introductions.” I smile, as I handed him a piece of paper, “I have… Well, he has, a collection of… Envelopes. Sorry, but you’ll see what I mean when you open the drawer, over there. No worries, I checked.”

He nodded as he walked over to see what I was talking about, before his eyes widen.

“They… Belonged to Fräulein Misham.” I began to feel nervous, “I… ’Borrowed’ a few, just for this occasion. With my world, this… Color doesn’t exist, so seeing this envelope that color would make him happy… P-Plus reading what you wrote would make him happy too.”

“P-Prosecutor Gavin.” He whispered. Taking some envelopes out, before giving a small smile, “Thank you. Very much for your help.”

“No problem.” I softly smile as he walked up to hug me. I sigh, “I… I’m glad to have met you.”

“Um… You can call me… M-Mr. Forehead, i-if you want.” He seems hesitant with the nickname choice, “That’s what… Our Prosecutor Gavin called me.”

“Herr… Forehead?”

Mehr stille.

“I… I called out a witness on the angle of a shot.” He started, pressing a finger to his forehead, “It was a direct contradiction, and it did involve the forehead. That’s pretty much where the nickname started.”

Oh, I must’ve gotten annoyed or amused by the contradiction.

Weird, but I guess it sort of grew into an affectionate nickname over time.

“Ach, nah, I’d rather not get too close, just in case.” I smile, though I felt bad when he winced back in hurt, “Your full name would like to be known before I call you anything, ja?”

“Oh, um.” He paused for a moment, before crossing his arms, smiling, “I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine.”

We stared at each other before he started to… Giggle?

He laughed for a little while, before shaking his head.

“Y-Yes. Well, m-my name is Apollo Justice.” He answered, finally, calming down, “Th-That last part is out of habit.”

He laughed for a little bit more, and the next thing I knew, I was laughing too. We both laughed together, for I don’t know how long. However, I don’t mind, nor care. He is so cute. This is gonna hurt when I wake up tomorrow.

After a while, we both calmed down, before he decided to hug me. Sighing.

“I’ll glad to have met you too. Both of you.” He smiles up at me, “I’ll make sure to send the letter first thing in the morning. I usually wake up early anyways. It’ll pass right through the mail slot. I’ll miss you, and if possible, remember the you that exists right now. Please don’t feel sad. You’ll be fine. No matter what.”

I began to tear up as he pulled away, holding my hand.

“You’re Klavier Gavin, and you’re fine!” He yells out, his eyes bright with the brightest smile he can give me ( reminds me of Fräulein Magician ), “Just remember that, and you’ll be fine. I say that every day, to pump myself up. I’m sure remembering that would help you out too.”

I wiped a tear that was rolling down my cheek.

I’ll remember that.

More tears rolled down, though. Seeing this, he just softly smiled. He pressed his forehead against mine.

“This isn’t good-bye. For I’m sure we’ll speak to each other again. Someday.” He softly whispered, “I don’t know how, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

I nod, as I let it all out.

Hand in hand, we cuddled up to each other, as I suddenly felt so tired.

“Talk to ya later.” He whispers, “And I’ll deliver the letter first thing in the morning. I’m sure my Prosecutor Gavin would be so happy.”

I let myself drift off.

X-X-X-X

I shot up when I got a call.

I don’t… See anything.

No such thing as that color.

I checked the mail slot, only to realize…

Our theory was true. I am back in my own world. I decided to answer the call.

“Oh, I was worried for a second.”

I breathed to catch my breath. Heaving very hard, before I answered.

“Um, one question. What does Red mean?”

R-Red?

“Oh. Well, I can see that you’re… Our Prosecutor Gavin.”

I paused, before plotting back on the bed.

“Well, we discovered the opposite of Cold, which means Warm. Suppose to mean friendly, but it also means the opposite of temperature as well.”

Really? Is that so? It seems like he did switch places with me after all.

“Though, there is a lot to learn as well. Care to join us to discover more of what we learned last night?”

I thought about it, before deciding my answer.

“Thank you, Prosecutor Gavin. Come right over! My daughter and I will have snacks ready, just in case! Say, did you meet… Say, another kid of mine during your visit?”

Another kid? Oh, did he adopt another kid? Was it… Him? Maybe it was the girl as well.

“Wh-What!? I adopted two more kids!? Wow- how was the… Um. Guy, like?”

I sigh, as I explained. I began to connect why he was so special, in SO many ways. I certainly began to feel empty, but remembering those last moments… Really made it special.

“Um.. You’re welcome to our family, if you’d like. You sound… Heartbroken.”

… I definitely am, am I?

“Well, you’re welcome to our family, either way. We’ll try and… I guess fill in that void, s-so to speak. I don’t quite understand your pain, but I’d expect it to be heart breaking… So, I guess we’ll try to be there, the best we can.”

I smile at this. Danke, Herr Wright. Danke.

“N-No problem. Now, come over. Tell us what your experience was like? Ema is curious too.”

Fräulein Detective? Wow, even she changed. I nod, as I grabbed my favorite coat.

“Alright, talk to ya later.”

With that, he hung up, and I went out the door.

I’ll miss him, but…

I’ll be fine.

That’s what he says, right?

I’ll be fine.

X-X-X-X The End.