#(oh this. this feels like getting back to my roots. jubilee. this is.)

[sightburdened]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓? 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆;

Before, there was a certain formula his nights fell into. Come home, make the dogs their well-deserved dinner while he made something for himself, all the while nursing a fifth of whiskey. He showered in the mornings typically but sometimes, the hot shower and the steam felt good on releasing the tension in his back – it was a forty minute commute both ways, but he wouldn’t want it any other way, he’d achieved peace, he’d broken from Louisiana, he’d found a respectful job – and then, he’d go to bed. He’d read on his days off, and fix up engines and sell them in his spare time, he liked the challenge, the puzzle of slipping metal pieces into their proper places, of getting the parts working once more.

He had a system, and it worked. It had worked, at least, for a time.

Before, he had a solitary rhythm that he preferred, and he didn’t disrupt it. He dared not ask for more, he didn’t want to think about bringing someone into the fold. He couldn’t possibly think that there would be someone out there who could understand his desperate need for alone time, for the blank quiet that encompassed his living room, the silence spilling out into the long hallway, the subtle sounds of crickets and cicadas permeating the air with thick, sweet noise. He didn’t want an interruption; at least, that’s what he believed.

“Before,” he begins, his hand locked onto Lestat’s, he doesn’t want to let go, “I wouldn’t let people in. I thought about it. Trying to make friends at work, at accepting their invitations for coffee, for dinner, for dessert. Bookstores,” and the chuckle that falls from his mouth sounds like he’s spitting out nails, if Jesus Christ were real, he’d have enjoyed the sound, “or, something. I never took them up on the offer. I didn’t want to be,” and he doesn’t know the word yet, he doesn’t know what to do about the way his throat aches, “...seen. Because, if they saw me, they’d see that I wasn’t what they wanted. Most men don’t sleep with their bed in the living room unless they have deep-seated psychological problems."

His sense of humor had always been poorly-timed. This time was no exception.

Benjamin pads over to Lestat, nuzzling his hand, his large head resting on the vampire’s knee. He had never believed in reincarnation – at least, not before – but, he always felt as if his latest addition to the pack of strays he collected had known Lestat, somehow, in a past life, if such a thing were possible.

Then again, vampires were real. It all was very possible.

“I can’t think of going a night without seeing you. Without walking across the field to be with you. I don’t want to think of that.” His heart’s racing, he knows Lestat can hear it, and he wonders if there was ever a time that he didn’t feel breathless around him.

His own thoughts were full of a sentiment he hadn’t felt once, not for anyone. He felt the need to examine it, to place his cells under a microscope and see what was happening in the function of his blood, if there was some sort of mutation taking place. There had to be. He was changing on a biochemical level, and he was powerless to stop it. Good.

“My voice is,” and he turns to look once more at Lestat, blood-stained, the holiest thing he had ever laid eyes on, “it’s—I want to use it only for you at night. I don’t want to do anything but speak to you, to tell you the words in my mind. Then again, you’ve read it. You hear it. You see me,” and still you want me.

Lestat tells him no arguing, he tells him he deserves the world, and he doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t know what to do aside from move forward, his limbs pitching forward, his hands remaining permanently fixed on Lestat’s shoulders. 

“The way you look at me isn’t like everyone else. You never look at me with scorn, as if I’m the last person you’d want to see. It’s the opposite,” and his hands are in Lestat’s hair now, his soap and cologne are making him dizzy, “of everything I’ve been taught to believe. That I’m not only expendable, but special, in the wrong way. I see things and piece the puzzle together and then, when they’re all done with me, they put me away for next year. I’m the…toy soldier from the Nutcracker.”

He’s rambling, he needs to stop talking. Being the FBI's consultant led to him being able to afford this house, his living, he should feel grateful. Bitterness was bad for the bones, bad for the blood most importantly, after all.

He takes a seat on his bed with his hammering heart, and he wonders if the noise is the tools by which to build a foundation. He wonders that as he reaches for Lestat’s hand, his calloused hand smoothing down Lestat’s soft fingers. 

“We don’t have to sleep. I want you. I want you to break me apart like I’m the first orange of spring.”

There’s no version of events where I can’t want you. There’s no chapter in my narrative that involves being without you. I can’t remember who I was before you, and I don’t want to.

Will's torment sometimes reminds Lestat of a wasp, captured in the house of a particularly vindictive teenager. The glass comes down between him and the rest of the world and he's left to knock against it until he exhausts himself with the effort. All to no avail, of course; humans can be vulgar creatures who continue to push and pull one another, even when the seams are clearly fraying. Jack Crawford should think himself lucky he would be missed by the agency or else... who knows what might've already happened to him.

"I know this feeling well." He admits, somewhat softly, sensing that the implication is obvious but wanting to voice it anyway. "I've found I dislike taking to my coffin until I've told you goodnight. Almost as though it has become a ritual to me." Like the nightly prayers he used to utter, kneeling by his cold, hard bed in the monastery as a boy. But Will need not know about that. At least not yet. Perhaps, one day, the grief at the loss of his belief will be laid bare but, for now, Lestat keeps his youth buried deep - the trauma there would rip Will to pieces.

Yet, Lestat is the one who cannot help but be ripped apart - with acceptance, instead of hopelessness - as Will's mouth touches to his jaw, sharing the spoils of his earlier frenzy. It's what draws the vampire up, further onto Will's porch, allowing his presence to bring the familiar comfort as hands land at his waist, staking their claim. Lestat's mirror them; clean despite his fresh kill. "You called and, so, I came. As animals in the wild call for a mate. How could I resist such a voice?" Such a wondrous voice and Will's scent fills his lungs with their newfound closeness, every minute touch to each strand of hair brimming with sensation - the tip of Lestat's own nose bumping gently to the pulse in Will's neck, leaving a blood trace.

"When you are with me, you deserve the world and I will hear no arguments, mon coeur." There may be arguments, or small protestations but, as stated, Lestat will ignore them. He smiles into the crook of Will's throat and kisses there, briefly. "If you want me to stay, I would be more than happy to oblige. Though," he pulls back, raising a brow in vague amusement. "I usually don't sleep in bed, rules are made to be broken and I would break them all for you." Blue eyes gaze by moonlight into Will's and Lestat's hands move up to find their place at the other man's jaw, thumbs rubbing through the blood at his mouth. "But if you keep thinking those thoughts," the vampire catches his breath, "we won't sleep."

'I would take you apart, piece by piece, and rewrite you in a language only we two could understand.' It's a promise as much as poetry and Lestat's palm drops to bring Will's hand into his own, letting his feelings flow quite freely between them as he leads Will into the house, Benjamin inquisitively raising his head from his blanket by the fireplace.

[yallemagne]

So I finished the first season of X-Men: The Animated Series of course. Highlights?

Episode 1 & 2: Night of the Sentinels

Jubilee's father really fuckin sold her out huh? And holy shit the fucking sentinels. Dog, why did you MAKE THEM SO BIG. I had expected like that they started small and got bigger ones when the X-Men were revealed, but no, without even alerting the nation that they were making these robots, they sent a giant ass robot into a mall to capture one teenager.

Me pointing out "huh Morph is getting a lot of moments here, I like it" followed by them immediately dying. Like damn. They really did that. No wonder the creators backed out of having Thunderbird be in Morph's role, that would have just been insulting. Especially since he probably wouldn't have been brought back.

"Tell Cyclops... I made him a convertible."

Cyclops refuses to apologize for leaving without Morph and Beast but instead offers Logan an opportunity for revenge. It's so them. These petty bastards.

Episode 3: Enter Magneto

Beast... you're so silly. So, Beast refuses a rescue by Magneto (he's imprisoned) because "I'm awaiting a fair trial that will prove my innocence"... girl. You are a giant blue man. So, yeah, another case where Magneto was right.

Sabretooth is such a fake-ass bitch, I love it. So, he shows up at the trial causing a ruckus and gets injured and the X-Men take him in and start treating him like their pathetic little meow meow. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

"Come on, they're gonna kill him!" "Good." *turns around* "WHAT?"

"He's a threat." "He was near death." "Not near enough."

They just keep giving Wolverine all the best lines.

Episode 4: Deadly Reunions

Sabretooth, my poor little meow meow... all you did was a few itty bitty kitty murders... That's what Charles is saying at the start of this episode.

Xavier truly does try to get to the root of Sabretooth's anger with some super therapy, but alas, Sabretooth is just That Bitch. We do know that a competent telepath can temper his anger though, just look at Birdy.

They leave Jubilee alone with him acknowledging full well "this man is more dangerous than Wolverine... have fun babysitting!" He's restrained in a chair growling "let me at 'em" as Senator Kelly is being racist on TV and Jubilee very kindly turns it off and he's like "sowwy I'm twying to be a good boy... 😿" So of course Jubilee sees his restraints are hurting his wrists and releases him to help. Hahahaha. Oh girl.

If this were a show being produced today, I could totally see Sabretooth being accepted by the X-Men because "daww look he's angry just like you Wolverine" being drawn out into a longer arc where he actually gains their trust so it creates a genuine rift in the team... but also maybe he's not that patient for a scheme like that.

(also I know the show probably isn't going with the continuity that they're blood-related, but Wolverine telling them Sabretooth is nothing but trouble and getting hit with "but he's just like you 🥺" is very brother-coded okay?? Anyone who has a terrible older brother can relate.)

"Alright you egg-sucking piece of gutter trash. You always liked pushing around people smaller than you. WELL, I'M SMALLER! TRY PUSHING ME!!" << that's some little brother dialogue.

(… Morph would have listened to Wolverine about Sabretooth. Morph knows the Deep Lore.)

Episode 5: Captive Hearts

Callisto saw Cyclops and immediately said "I'm gonna make him my trophy husband", and while that is a valid reaction, no means no, hun.

They literally establish Storm as the Morlock's future Moses basically with her promising to come back for them when the time is right and they feel safe to breech the surface. And then they gave Magneto that role in '97. Ugh. He has the nerve to say Xavier just left them down there when it was in fact Storm that respected their right to self-determination.

Episode 6: Cold Vengeance

I love every time I see Sabretooth, he's just so silly-looking. No wonder everyone else imprinted on him like "hehe silly orange kitty" he's so BIG. He's incredibly top-heavy, just look at his bazongas.

We got through this with no sacrifice of Inuit life but a sombre sentiment that they'll be abandoning the old ways rather than rebuilding their homes.

Episode 7: Slave Island

Jubilee and Gambit have a nice little dynamic. He's the first person Jubilee used her powers to protect and she does it multiple times. I imagine he's like her cool older brother with street smarts.

No wonder Gambit was suspicious of Genosha in '97. Can't really trust that all is well when the foundation of that place was quite literally built with slavery.

This just makes Magneto's "tsk tsk Charles didn't use his wealth and resources to ship a load of UNWILLING Morlocks to Genosha for their own good" comment in '97 all the more frustrating. Man can be a dumbass.

Anyway--- CABLE CABLE CABLE. My silly little big boy.

Episode 8: The Unstoppable Juggernaut

Juggernaut is such a funny guy. I feel like usually, the big guys don't get to be the wise-cracking type, so this piece of shit was fun to watch.

Also just love Colossus, he's perfect.

Episode 9: The Cure

It's hard to feel bad for Warren when he's literally rich and funding a project that can be easily weaponized to hurt mutants. Sure, he was tricked and wasn't actually funding his "cure", but it would have been awful even if he got what he wanted. Just wear one of those collars for the rest of your life, jackass.

HOW IS NO ONE CHECKING IN ON THIS RESEARCH?? This experimentation on human beings is taking place with no government interference???

Pyro and Avalanche are fucking don't even try to convince me otherwise. Pyro, I don't care where you are from, I'm gonna be so weird about you calling every man you meet “darling”.

Episode 10: Come the Apocalypse

The public will see literally any villain and be like "A RENEGADE MUTANT!!" Like yeah sure I think Apocalypse technically is a mutant?? But like they really just profile all criminals as mutants.

Again, not sorry for you, rich boy.

Poor Rogue, having to absorb all these men's damage.

Episode 11 & 12: Days of Future Past

Bishop is a fucking traitor holy shit. Sure he gets better but damn. Girly was really like "The face-eating jaguars would never eat my face." and then was immediately told he was no longer needed.

"Someone... or something has come back through the time portal." "CHECK PLEASE! TIME PORTAL?"

"You kids better behave yourselves; I'm staying behind to babysit."

"Okay, ROUND BOY. Let's dance."

Wolverine has all the best lines.

Wonder why Mystique specifically chose to impersonate Gambit for the assassination. Perhaps he seemed the most likely? Perhaps a grudge against him for his relationship with Rogue?

Episode 13: The Final Decision

I'm so fucking disappointed that the fate of mutantkind lies in the hands of Senator Kelly because, dog, I wanna shoot him.

When you make a giant racist robot factory and even the giant racist robot factory is smart enough to recognize that mutant rights are human rights and so it resolves to protect humanity by replacing it with robots. Fucking dumbasses.

Honestly makes you wonder what the fuck Trask thought he was doing coming back in the new series. He knew that starting up another Master Mold would inevitably lead to the robots replacing politicians' brains with computers and he DID IT AGAIN ANYWAY.

Seeing Chuck and Magnus working together always warms my heart. And then they go right back to being enemies.

That Mister Sinister teaser at the end was... I'm not gonna say it.

[persephones-wren]

Hello! may i request a c!revivebur who’s walking around the server and sees his (now ex) partner for the first time since he died and he apologizes to them for how he treated them in pogtopia and they just like walk around and catch up please? love your writing!! don’t worry if this gets rejected or you don’t feel inspired i know how it feels!

Hope (c!Revivedbur x Reader)

apologies if it's a bit out of character, it's been a while since I've written anything for the DSMP :) but thank you for my first request from there! I hope you liked how it turned out!

Warnings: none? all lore is pretty outdated I think

Genre: fluff-ish

Word Count: 1220

Dawn breaks.

He stands there, watching the sunrise. His trench-coat feels heavy. The gloves on his hands feel scratchy, and he knows he keeps tightening them; a nervous habit. He’s going to betray them all. Whether they win or lose the final war, L’Manberg is going to go up in flames.

He’s not going to be there to see it all.

“You alright, Will?”

You stand beside him, on the cliff, and he knows that Tommy and Tubbo are probably somewhere behind him, watching over you both. He didn’t have his sanity anymore, but he was still in control enough to think of them and Niki, fighting for a false cause, watching over him, worried.

“Of course, love. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His voice is an odd, jubilant tone. It’s one he’s had for a while, the one he had when Tommy and Techno spared and he pushed them both, the one he had when referring to Dream.

You don’t know whether it’s happiness or madness.

“Wilbur Soot.”

“Y/N, I’m alright,” he sighs. He puts his arm around you. “We’re going to win L’Manberg back,” Lie. “and we’ll be able to have everything we once did.” Lie. “I’ll run the country again as it’s rightful leader,” Lie. “and it’ll be the place to build our future.” Lie.

“I don’t care about L’Manberg as much as I care about you,” you state. “Wilbur Soot, I love you. No matter what happens today,” you whisper, “That won’t change.”

How foolish you had been.

Philza had murdered him, a diamond sword straight through his chest, and the only thing that reassured you that it was what he wanted was the smile on his face. Your word never faltered, though. No matter what happens, you’d still love him.

You’re considering changing that sentiment as you go to visit the same cliff, and see someone already there. Occasionally, it’d be Niki there, or Tommy and Tubbo, sometimes even Ranboo. You’d talk to them, reminisce, or tell them bits of history. It always hurts your heart, but that’s what kept the dead alive, their stories.

It’s not any of them this time, though.

You scan the figure ahead of you. Tall, wearing a jacket, gauze and blood wrapped around his right arm. The height tells you it’s Ghostbur, but the dressing and the vibrant color in his hair tells you it’s his living counterpart.

It’s Wilbur. It’s Wilbur Soot, not Ghostbur.

You pinch at your wrist, but the slight sting tells you that it’s no dream.

Wilbur Soot stands a couple meters in front of you, alive. You want to run, away or toward him, you can’t be sure, but you’re rooted in place. He’s alive. The realization fills your heart with love, with fear- which era of Wilbur has he returned as? Is he the musician who made you swoon? Is he the revolutionary, the gentle and kind leader? Is he the man who spiraled into insanity, who blew up L’Manburg?

“Beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

He knows there’s someone there. Who, he isn’t sure, but whoever it was, whether it was someone new or someone he had to make amends to- starting a conversation was the best way to find a window to apologize. Personal gains aside, there were a lot of people who deserved apologies from him.

Especially his love.

“It’s nice,” you say, cautious. “I haven’t really taken the time to look at another one since Doomsday.”

He turns toward you, shock in his expression and a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword, and he frowns at that.

Did you think- didn’t you still have two lives? He’s not the man he was when he was last alive.

“Love-”

“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not the person who blew up L’Manberg.” He takes note of the way your expression softens slightly, but your hand doesn’t move. “Darling, I’m unarmed. Why are you- how many lives are you on?”

“One.”

“One? I thought- What happened?”

“The L’Manberg explosion took my second one.”

He notices the way you say L’Manberg and not Doomsday. It was his doing.

He decides that he’s never going to forgive himself for it. Even if you do, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and strides towards you, throwing his arms around you. “I’m so sorry.”

There’s a small silence, before you speak. “I’m getting over it,” you mutter into his shoulder. “All I have to do is avoid conflict. It can’t be the hardest thing in the world.”

“It’s difficult here.” His concern makes you feel warm. Maybe death has changed him. You hope death has changed him.

“I know,” you respond quietly. Avoiding problems never was the strong suit of anyone on the SMP.

“I’ll find a way to beat death for you.”

You laugh a little, and reach your hand up to ruffle his hair. “Of course you’d find a way. You’re always pushing for change.”

“Especially if it helps the people I love.”

You don’t get a moment to reflect on his words before he’s reaching for your hand, interlocking it with his. You both walk, side by side, throughout the SMP.

“A lot has changed,” he remarks.

“Yeah. A lot has.”

Care to tell me what’s been happening around here?”

“Do you have any memories from Ghostbur?”

“Oh, him,” Wilbur frowns at that. His ghost had been way too positive, quite odd, to be honest. Perhaps he felt the tiniest bit guilty that Ghostbur was stuck in the personal hell that was Jubilee Line, but if it meant he got to live, he would make the same decision again, to board the train Dream had sent out for him.

You’re still staring at him, and he gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, zoned out there. I don’t exactly have many memories, but they’re coming back to me, little by little.”

“We rebuilt L’Manberg, before Tommy was exiled. You left with him, as Ghostbur. I don’t exactly know what happened there, but-” you sigh. “It must have been hell. Tommy never really recovered, I don’t think. Tubbo forbade any of us to visit, he said it was too dangerous to confront Dream head on.”

“I remember that,” Wilbur says quietly. “If I were to see Dream again, I’d strike him down where he stood.”

“He’s in prison now, thankfully. I’d say he’s getting what he deserves.”

He decides not to mention how Dream was the one who brought him to life.

You both finally stop at the ruins of L’Manberg, staring down into the glass-covered crater. It’s a swirl of memories, a tangle of old times, a harsh reminder of the past.

“We should look towards the future,” Wilbur speaks. His eyes are focused on the bright of the moon, and the glimmer of the stars above both of you. “A future together,” he adds. He kisses the top of your head and puts his hand around your waist, cautious, but you make no move to stop him. Even if he’s not the same, he’s close to the man you once knew.

You find the constellation he’s looking at, and smile slightly.

Canis Major.

A future together.

Hope.

[sunflowergirl522]

Prank War

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Request by @chims-kookies Plant mutation fem!reader x Peter maximoff; they have a flirty relationship and prank each other a lot (he speeds by her, messing with her) and she uses plants to trip him or has pollen make him sneeze etc. smth cute and fluffy :)) prank war maybe?? Wholesome vibes 💕 But also @stars-of-clarke messaged me about the reader using her power to prank Peter!

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1351

Masterlist

You’re not sure how it started; maybe it was when Peter accidentally hit you with a meatball that was meant for Scott. Or maybe it was when Peter tripped over a root of a tree that wasn’t there before and blamed you. Either way the prank war between you and Peter according to your friends has gotten slightly out of hand. Scott and Jubilee are constantly telling the two of you to ‘just get together already’ but you’re so deep in denial of your own feelings that you just brush the sentence off.

“Hold that thought Jubes.” You hold up a finger, interrupting Jubilee as you see Peter talking a little bit aways to some girl. You wrap a root around his foot making sure not to touch him with it yet and when he goes to dash off you tighten it to hold him there causing him to trip and embarrass himself.

“Y/n!” You pull Jubilee behind the tree you were next to out of Peter’s eyesight giggling. 

“He raided my snack stash earlier.” You explain to the girl in front of you with her eyebrow raised.

“You know it could be both of your snack stashes.”

“Oh not this again Jubes, for the last time-”

“Sorry ladies am I interrupting?” Peter leans next to Jubilee against the tree.

“Hey there Peter, I saw your trip. You should really be more mindful of your surroundings.” You fake a pout in his direction. “Maybe then the girls you flirt with will go out with you.”

“Oh big words coming from the girl no one flirts with.”

“And whose fault is that huh? Weren’t you the one who went around and told everyone that if they slept with me they’d get poison ivy.” You step up to him and poke his chest. He laughs at the memory but stops when he remembers that people had started calling you Ivy in a mocking tone. He didn’t mean for it to go that far, he honestly just didn’t want anyone flirting with you. He hated that.

“I said I was sorry for that, Flower.” His hands land on your shoulders and he rubs his thumbs back and forth to calm you down.

“Yeah whatever, Maxibaby.”

“Come on you guys, get a room! Makeout or something already.” Jubilee exclaims tired of constantly seeing the two of you like this. When you weren’t pulling pranks on each other or arguing you were flirting. Not that you or Peter noticed, you both just called it being civil your friends though, they’ve just about had enough of it.

“If you don’t stop with that I swear I’m gonna turn the pranks on you.” 

“With that I’ll take my leave. See ya around.” Peter speeds off and you feel a tug on your hair. Your hand flies to the end that was pulled and you gasp.

“That asshole put gum in my hair!” Jubilee laughs full heartedly before getting a glare and running off.

***

“Nice haircut, Flower.” You turn your head to glare at the boy now sitting next to you underneath Xavier’s grandfather's tree.

“Fuck you Maxibaby.” After the gum incident you had to get a few inches cut off. It looked good still thank goodness, if it didn’t you may have just had to kill him.

“Oh, come on Flower. If anything I did you a favor, you’ve been talking about getting your dead ends cut off for what feels like forever.” That was true and since he had a point you just shrug in response continuing to grow flowers around you. “What is this? The silent treatment? Flower, talk to me.” He’s whining and you have a hard time keeping the amused smile off your face. As the corners of your mouth start to hook upward you look away from him. “Did I just see a smile on that pretty face? Let me see.” He reaches over to grab your chin and pull your face back towards him and you can’t help but laugh and try to push him away. 

“Get outta here! Don’t you have some poor girl to make your move on?” You lean on one hand and run the other through your hair as you ignore how hard your heart is beating from being so close to him. 

“Nah, just got you Flower.” You may have denied your feelings but Peter, Peter doesn’t. He did at first, but then he saw some guy flirting with you and couldn’t deny them anymore. While Scott keeps trying to nudge him in the right direction of just asking you out already and bringing everyone's suffering to an end, Peter’s afraid that you’ll reject him. So he keeps up with the pranking and relentless flirting.

“Who says I want you Maxibaby?” The two of you are so close your noses are almost touching. You rustle the flowers enough to get pollen in the air causing Peter to start sneezing. 

“Oh you better run!” He speaks between sneezes and you dash off laughing the whole time. Peter smiles at the sight of you before running after you making sure not to use his mutation knowing you would just call it cheating.

The next day you’re showing the new student, Bobby, around school when Peter sees the two of you laughing about something.

“Who’s he?” The jealousy is thick in Peter’s voice as he watches your head get thrown back with laughter in a way that is normally only caused by him.

“New student. It seems like him and Y/n are hitting it off.” Scott answers him and stops the chuckle that’s begging to come out. “Looks like you may have missed your chance Romeo.” Peter's teeth grind together and in a second he’s gone.

“So then I made the apple rotten and-”

“Hey there Flower, who’s this?” Peter wraps his arm around your shoulder as he appears and interrupts you mid story. 

“Maxibaby! We were just talking about you. Remember the time I had you eat a rotten apple?”

“Yeah, turned me off of apples for good.” The two of you are smiling at each other, your foreheads almost touching.

“So are you two dating or what? Because the stories seem like your frenemies.” Both of your heads turn to look at the new student

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” Your eyes go wide at Peter’s words shocked that he would lie about that.

“Doesn’t matter to me man. I’m Bobby.”

“Peter.” He shakes Bobby’s outstretched hand. “Care if I snag her away?”

“Go for it, we were just finishing up here.” Before you could interject, you’re in Peter's room and he’s reading a comic in the corner of his room, a twinkie halfway in his mouth.

“What was that?!”

“What was what?” He doesn’t even look up at you.

“You told Bobby we were dating! Why would you do that?”

“Can’t have him flirting with you, now he won’t. Would you have rather I told him the poison ivy rumor?”

“Not that it matters Peter, but Bobby’s gay!” He finally looks up at you but you’re too busy pacing to notice.

“He’s gay?”

“Yes! Why does the flirting thing even matter anyway? You flirt with everyone, why can’t anyone flirt with me?”

“Because I like you! Get that through that thick skull of yours, I don’t know how you haven’t noticed yet.”

“You like me?” You freeze in your tracks and point at yourself and Peter walks up to you and holds your face in his hands.

“Yes.”

“So, you want us to actually be dating?”

“Yes.” Without him knowing you grow a vine out of the pot of the plant you gifted him not too long ago and get it ready to wrap around his feet as you inch your face closer to his.

“So you better come catch me.” You kiss his nose and run towards the door tangling his feet in the vine.

“This is cheating!” Peter exclaims as he starts to recover from falling.

“I need a headstart dontcha think?” And with a shrug and a wink you dash down the hallway.

Peter Taglist: @amourtentiaa​ @simpforquicksilver​ @parkersdarling @loveyou3000-mcu

[outerjjbx]

Jiara July Jubilee

Day 5, 30th July- 5 + 1 day (but I’m doing 3 + 1 because this is my first time using this format)

words: 3.8k

One of the few things that JJ learnt at school was that anger was a secondary emotion. He didn’t even really learn it at school; he learnt it in the counsellor’s office after a particularly messy fight. He was the one that got in trouble, even though it was the other kid that pushed John B’s books from his hands.

JJ was an extremely protective person. He would throw himself in front of a train to protect his friends. He would do absolutely anything to assure their safety and happiness, and his rage commonly took over when that was at risk. He was particularly protective of Kiara, because he knew she hated violence and wouldn’t engage in it like the others. That would be okay, but she was unlucky enough to be the typical victim of Rafe Cameron’s constant bickering.

They were at the boneyard, JJ flirting with some Touron he wouldn’t remember the name of, and Kiara minding her business by the shore. She was standing with a plastic cup, taking occasional sips and letting the waves wash over her feet. She jumped when she felt an arm sling around her shoulder, scoffing with she noticed a grinning Rafe.

Kiara shoved him off. “Go bother some other girl. Or, better yet, none at all. The world could do a lot better without guys like you.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow and placed his arm back around her. “What’s that, Kie? Can’t hear you over the music.”

Kiara rolled her eyes and pushed him off again. “Seriously, Rafe. Your bullshit gets tiring. Go away.”

Rafe held a hand to his chest. “Oh, I’m hurt!” he looked around, studying a group of Pogues messing around nearby. “Why do you even hang out with them? You’re rich, you’re hot. You’re a kook. Why are you running around like some sort of Pogue princess?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re all misogynistic assholes?” She replied sarcastically.

“I miss having you around the house, Kie,” Rafe grinned. “The view was always nice.”

JJ had noticed the commotion by then. He made his way over, hands in his pockets to appear casual. He stopped in the middle, purposely putting distance between them. Rafe smirked when he arrived, looking proud of his ability to draw him over.

“What, so she’s fucking you but won’t give me a try?” Rafe scoffed. “You’re hot, Kiara. Get some standards.”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” JJ mumbled. “Aren’t you, like, nineteen? Get a life.”

The mentioned raised his arms in mock surrender. “Okay, okay!” he began to walk away, but not before brushing by Kiara so he could run his hand along her waist.

Kiara yelped, flinching away. Rafe winked and prepared to walk away, but JJ grabbed his wrist and punched him square in the face before you could move.

Rafe fell down onto the sand. “Jesus Christ, you psycho! What the fuck was that?”

JJ grabbed Kiara’s drink and downed it. “Sexual assault earns a punch, Cameron.”

“I didn’t do shit!” Rafe argued. He stood up to hit JJ back and pushed him, but it only made JJ angry.

Both of them had anger issues, and both of them knew that. Sometimes, when they were about to fight, JJ wondered what made Rafe such an angry person. He seemed like he had such a perfect life, but his actions reflected something else. JJ knew the source of his anger, he knew that it was because of his dad, but he couldn’t figure Rafe out. JJ often had to remind himself that anger was not an original emotion, meaning Rafe’s red face and twisted expression was caused by something else, something deep-rooted.

Their fight lasted for three or four punches each, resulting in a bloody nose and a split lip or two. JJ was already roughed up, as he always was, so the injuries weren’t anything new for him. That made seeing Rafe with a swollen eye and red blotches of forming bruises even more satisfying. He was always attacking, but he was never used to getting anything back.

Topper was tugging at his friend’s arm. “Come on, man. It’s not worth it,” he said, as if JJ had been the one that was acting like a dickhead.

Rafe muttered something under his breath and spat blood into the sand as he left, his fists clenched. JJ and Kiara both watch him go, Kiara pulling her jacket on as she did. She hated that he’d ruined her night, as he usually did, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Terrorising here seemed to be one of his favourite hobbies.

“Thanks, JJ,” she mumbled as she zipped her hoodie up.

JJ nodded and looked down at his -or Kiara’s, technically- empty cup and nodded towards the keg. “Come on. Wanna get wasted?”

Kiara shrugged and followed him. They spent the rest of the night drinking and getting high, just enjoying each others’ company. They stayed at the party, but it was like they were in their own little world, sharing inside jokes and giggling to themselves. JJ made a promise to protect her that night, and Kiara returned it, unaware of the protecting he actually needed.

-

“Rafe, what the fuck motivates you so much that you have to be the single most annoying piece of shit I have ever come across?”

Rafe was annoying Kiara, as usual. She didn’t know what she did to attract such awful attention. Maybe she was a mass murderer in her last life, and Rafe Cameron’s existence was some sort of karma, his only purpose being frustrating the shit out of her. She couldn’t think of any other reasonable explanations.

Her friends were nowhere in sight, and Kiara was admittedly growing nervous. JJ was usually right by her side, ready to attack, consequences be damned, but she couldn’t even see him. She looked around for that familiar mop of sunbleached hair tucked beneath a stolen cap, but he was nowhere to be seen. She attempted to hide her nerves behind quick witted comments as Rafe slowly inched towards her.

She could practically feel his breath down her neck, whispering words she wasn’t processing. His hand was snaking around her shoulders, his touch sending a terrified chill down her spine. She wanted to push him off, but he was cornering her, and she feared angering him would result in dire consequences.

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” Rafe slurred. “I’m just as much of a dick as the rest of your Pogue friends. You just like pretending to be something you’re not.”

Kiara kept her face straight, refusing to show any emotion or reaction. “The difference is that they’re good people, actually. Kooks, especially ones like you, are rich, sexist assholes. I just prefer being around decent people.”

“Decent people?” Rafe repeated. “You mean broke criminals that have to steal to survive? You know my dad fired your buddy John B because he was stealing, right? Tell me, was the cheap dive worth it?”

Kiara scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Everyone knows about your coke, Rafe. I’m pretty sure selling cocaine is worse than shoplifting to stay above water.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, probably something angry and spiteful, but a voice interrupted them before he could.

“Is he bothering you again?”

Kiara let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding as JJ approached her. He looked to her, silently asking if she was okay, and Kiara sent him an alarmed look. JJ nodded, understanding that she wanted him gone.

JJ grabbed Rafe’s arm. “Come on, Cameron. You know, you don’t have to be a dick all the time.”

The mentioned stepped back. “Watch your mouth, Maybank.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” JJ smiled slyly. “It’s in your DNA, you can’t control it.”

Rafe scoffed. “You’re one to talk about DNA.”

JJ stepped closer to him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe grinned. “Girls like mommy issues, don’t they? And daddy issues. You’ve got it going for you, man.”

Everyone knew of the Maybank name, and everyone knew that it was associated with crime and rage. The whole island knew of Luke Maybank and his multiple arrests, of the wife that abandoned him and of his no-good son. Being a Maybank had resulted in a painful life, not just at home, but everywhere. The lingering looks from shopkeepers, the drug dealers and criminals that would threaten him to get to his dad. They didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, but they knew it wasn’t functional in the slightest.

JJ shoved him back. “You’re one to fucking talk.”

Rafe stumbled backwards and scowled. He lunged forwards, beginning a brawl between the two. Kiara sighed as they tumbled to the sand, running a hand through her hair as a crowd began to surround them.

JJ was on top of Rafe, messing up his face, when Kiara realised how quickly things were going South. Their fights were always messy, but they never usually got that bad. Rafe was barely fighting back anymore, and Kiara was beginning to get worried. She hated Rafe, and he deserved to repeatedly get his ass beaten, but she didn’t want JJ to get in trouble, and she knew he always felt bad after he hurt someone without getting equally hurt back.

John B, Pope, Kelce and Topper broke it up instead of joining in, which Kiara was eternally grateful for. She helped JJ up and handed him his red hat, which had fallen off. He mumbled out a thanks and touched his busted lip, wiping the blood on his already-ruined shirt. His face was red, bruises were definitely forming and his clothes were stretched, but he didn’t seem bothered. He glared at the Kooks helping Rafe, but his angry expression fell as soon as he turned back to Kiara.

She gently ran her fingers along his purple cheek. “You don’t always have to fight him. I’m grateful you for him away, sure, but shit doesn’t have to escalate so much.”

“I don’t know how else to protect you,” JJ admitted.

Kiara sighed. “That’s okay. Hey, come here.”

She pulled JJ into a hug, letting her hands move naturally to play with his hair. They were always affectionate, but there was something about their hugs, especially ones like that, that felt different. Kiara pushed down whatever she was feeling as she stepped away and cleared her throat. She couldn’t catch feelings for JJ. There was no Pogue-on-Pogue macking, which she had made very clear.

“Maybe we should just stop going to parties at the boneyard,” she suggested.

JJ shook his head and smooth his cap over his hair. “No, no. We can’t let them get their way again. This is our territory, Kie. They visit for parties, but we’re the ones in charge.”

Kiara patted him on the shoulder and nodded. “I guess. Thanks, J. You’ve always got my back, huh?”

JJ hummed, holding eye contact for just a second too long. “Yeah. Always.”

-

Kiara could swear she was on a bad luck spree.

Everywhere she went, some Kook was there, wasting her time. She was working at The Wreck, just trying to get through her shift, when a group of them entered obnoxiously, disturbing the customers and making Kiara want to scream and kick them out. She approached them, an obviously fake smile on her face, as they all sat down at a table.

She recognised them from a couple of her classes. She usually kept to herself at school, since she hated basically everyone there, and she prayed they wouldn’t notice who she was as she came up to them with an apron around her waist and a notebook in hand.

“What can I get you guys?” she asked, biting her cheek to hold back a snarky comment.

Mimi Jones, who was in Kiara’s math class, raised her eyebrow at the girl. “Hey, I know you.”

“You’re that bitch that busted Sarah’s party ‘cause you were jealous, aren’t you?” a raven-haired boy chimed in.

“No, I’m not, because I didn’t do that,” Kiara sighed. She did, really, but they didn’t need to know that. “Now, are you guys gonna order or get out?”

She hated serving people like them. The Wreck was usually full of tourists, which was annoying enough, but the occasional Kook would stop by just to personally torture her. She didn’t even understand why they’d want to eat there- sure, it was a nice restauarant, but they were rich. They could literally eat anywhere else.

“Can I get a burger with salad and fries? No dressing on the fries, and no tomato on the burger,” Mimi requested using a condescending tone.

The rest of the Kooks order equally difficult orders, purposefully changing their minds and complicating their meals. Kiara smiled as fakely as she could and went back to the kitchen, holding back a hate-filled rant as she saw her dad busily cooking. She gave him the order and helped him with a couple of meals, which he seemed to appreciate. It was a busy day and they were short on staff, so she had to do as much as she could to help out.

Returning the meals to the Kooks was even worse than the order. They kept claiming she had messed it up, snickering to themselves as if disrespecting servers was the funniest thing in the world. Kiara couldn’t help but wonder what their parents did wrong. She was rich, sure, but working had humbled her. The most work experience the majority of the Kooks had was bossing around their staff or organising parties.

Seeing them was a painful reminder of her Kook year. She hated to remember that she used to be just like them, and that she had enjoyed it. She turned her back on the Pogues and treated her friends like dirt, and she’d always regret it. She could hardly believe she ever wanted to be like the spoiled brats she was serving.

Her shift couldn’t have ended sooner. She threw off her apron and practically bolted to her car, making her way to the Chateau as quickly as possible. Her breathing was beginning to grow uneven, and she was gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were paling. She didn’t know why she was freaking out so much, but there was something about her classmates that made guilt pool in her stomach every time she thought about them. Every time she thought about how she used to be them.

JJ was asleep on the pullout bed, in only a pair of board shorts. She would usually laugh at him being asleep so late, but she was struggling to form words. He opened his eyes and sat up groggily as she slammed the door shut, looking to her with a confused and then quickly concerned expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running a hand across his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kiara whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “I treated you like shit, didn’t I? In my Kook year. I know I did. I’m so sorry.”

He held out his arms, motioning for her to join him. “Woah, no. No, Kie. It’s okay. I mean, you were kind of a dick, but we’re past that. I know that wasn’t you. You’re a pogue.”

Kiara sat down next to him and buried her head against his chest, letting him play with her hair. She was crying quietly, just little sniffles and hiccups. JJ trailed his fingers up and down her back, his touch admittedly calming. She could nearly feel herself falling asleep in his arms, but quickly stopped herself.

She sat up, her cheeks red from both crying and blushing. “Thanks, J. Sorry about this.”

JJ tucked an escape curl behind her ear. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.”

Kiara nodded and avoided her friend’s eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

She could hear his smile when he spoke. “Yeah. I love you too.”

-

JJ always put out the impression that he didn’t need protecting. Kiara had believed it, for a while. He would recklessly throw himself into any fight or sticky situation, and he’d nearly always come out on top. The bruises that casually littered his skin hadn’t been a cause for concern until Kiara realised they weren’t all from Kooks.

It was a quiet evening at the Chateau, with Pope, John B and Kiara all playing cards. JJ hadn’t arrived yet, and John B seemed to be the only one worried about that. He was regularly glancing at the door and barely paying any attention to the game.

“He’ll be here soon,” Kiara told him. “Why are you freaking out?”

John B was staring at the front door, adjusting himself for a better view. “He went home.”

“So?” Pope shrugged. “You think something happened?”

John B looked back at his friends, hesitating about something. “He-” he paused and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Pope looked concerned now, too. “Maybe? Like what?”

“It’s hard to explain,” John B replied. “And not really my place to tell.”

“JB, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Kiara asked.

Their cards game was forgotten as John B ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just- his dad’s kind of a dickhead.”

“We know,” Kiara said. “But you’re acting like he’s a lot worse than that.”

John B shot them each a look, and it was enough to make them understand. Kiara felt her chest tightened as she remembered every time she’d seen the signs, every time she’d ignored them. Every flinch, every nervous glance towards any adult male. The bruises with unreasonable backstories, the reason he was at the Chateau so much. There was so much, and she somehow hadn’t seen it.

Pope seemed to be having a similar revelation. John B glanced at the front door for a final time before standing up and waving his hand in Pope’s direction.

“Pope, you come with me,” he instructed. “Kiara, can you wait here in case he comes back?”

Kiara nodded, her eyes wide. She watched John B and Pope leave, and listened to the van’s engine starting up. She carded a hand through her hair and exhaled shakily, trying her best to remain calm. She was remembering similar situations, when John B would leave in a hurry and return with a bruised and battered JJ. They’d always say something about a fight, and Kiara would tell JJ off before giving him an icepack and helping him bandage any cuts or split lips. She hated herself for never realising what was going on.

The sound of an engine nearing the Chateau made her perk up. She hurried outside and felt her breathing restrict as JJ’s bike came into view and pulled to a stop in front of her. Kiara noticed every bruise, seeing them peeking out of his shirt and wrapping around neck, like some sort of deadly disease.

He was grinning. “Hey, Kie. Sorry I’m late, I-”

Kiara cut him off by engulfing him in a hug. He winced, and she pulled away immediately, her eyes wide and apologetic. She cupped his cheeks so she could study the injuries on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “How bad is it? Here, come inside, I’ll get you an ice pack.”

JJ chuckled and let her lead him inside. “Why are you flipping out?”

She paused, quickly running over her choices. If she told him the truth, he could think John B betrayed him by telling. If she lied, though, she would have to continue to sit by while JJ suffered. There was more she could do to help him if she told him she knew, so she made a decision.

“I know about your dad.”

JJ’s smile dropped faster than she’d ever seen. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “John B was worried, and we- we figured it out. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise sooner, J, I’m-”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s an occasional hit when I fuck up, that’s it.”

Kiara motioned to his face. “An occasional hit? I’m not blind. This isn’t okay.”

JJ shook his head, beginning to blink rapidly. “No, it’s... just don’t worry about it, okay?”

He walked past her, heading to the kitchen, probably for a beer. Kiara took a deep breath to calm herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to get through to him, so he knew that what his dad was doing wasn’t okay. He was being himself, and it was just like he always said; deny, deny, deny. That was what he was doing, and Kiara had no idea how to stop it.

Kiara reached into the freezer and pulled out a bag of peas. John B kept them in there as their designated ice bag, and he never planned on actually eating them. She wrapped it in a small towel and joined JJ, where he was sitting down on the couch, facing away from her.

She gently sat down beside him. “I don’t know how to tell you how bad this is,” she admitted, “and I don’t know how to make it better. You’re always the one that protects everyone else, I never... I never thought you’d need protecting, too.” she gently placed the ice pack on his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair when he flinched. “I’m sorry for that. But you don’t have to be afraid of being scared, or of admitting that you’re hurt. I’ll protect you from now on. I promise.”

JJ was visibly trembling. Kiara moved the peas out of the way and let him rest on her shoulder, her chin just above his head. He was crying, she could tell, but she didn’t say anything. She just whispered sweet nothings in his ear and played with his golden hair, doing her best to calm him down. She held him until his breathing evened out and she knew he’d fallen asleep, so she gently lay him down so she could see the damage.

She pulled his shirt up and held back tears at the sight. There wasn’t really snything she could do, so she just held the makeshift ice pack to the worse bruises and hoped it would help. He would wince in his sleep every time she moved, so she made sure to keep a hand in his hair or trailing gently along his skin. After a while, she heard the front door open, and John B and Pope entered. They paused when they saw her and JJ, their shoulders loosening as they realised he was relatively safe.

“Is he okay?” John B asked quietly.

Kiara shrugged. “Not really.”

Pope’s eyes were trained to JJ’s stomach, where his shirt and been pulled up to reveal the bruises. “Oh my God.”

John B studied JJ’s hands, sighing when he saw nothing. “He didn’t even fight back.”

John B looked like he wanted to punch something, and Pope looked like he was going to pass out. Kiara knew they felt just as helpless as she did. There weren’t many options, and there were none if JJ was in charge. Knowing him, he wouldn’t want anything to change. She didn’t understand how he could suffer so long and still manage to smile every time she saw him.

She smoothed back JJ’s hair. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “I promise.”

[i-jus-wanna-writehappy]

Kissing Powers

Pairing: Scott Summers x fem!mutant!Reader

Warnings: none, I believe, question mark??

Author’s Note: Yo, this is the oldest piece in my drafts you guys. Hopefully it is enjoyable :)

Tags: @thotyana-in-this-hoe @neeadinghugs 

Masterlist

*          *          *          *          *

"Really? You've never heard of her?" Scott questions Kurt and Peter. The two boys shake their heads, making Scott sigh in frustration before walking away. After a second lap around the mansion, Scott settles for grumbling his way to the library, peeved that not a single one of his peers could or were willing to tell him about you.

Just as Scott goes to sit down, Hank calls out to him, “Hey, Scott, the professor wants you in his office.” Scott groans as he places his hands against the armrest of his chair and drags himself up. The last thing he needs right now is to be in trouble with the professor. Is he in trouble because he glued Peter’s shoes to the ground last week? Is it because he ate the last of the Lucky Charms and convinced Jubilee that she had the last bowl?

All the way to the office, Scott thinks of what Charles could want him for, and all of the options help to sour his mood more. The door to the office is open, and the first thing Scott notices is you, sitting in the chair in front of Charles’s desk. “Ah, here he is, Scott, I’d like to introduce you to Y/N. She is our newest addition and I was hoping you could show her around as I have an important meeting to attend to.”

Scott smiles softly, knowing what Charles is doing - he’s been asking around about the kissing mutant arriving all day - but still can’t stop his mouth from being skeptical, “I thought you held your meetings after dinner?” Lifting his eyebrows, Charles gestures to you, “You’re right. Would you prefer I held off my meeting and show Y/N around myself?” Now, Scott’s brain is all on the same page. He actually almost rolls his eyes at his foolish comment, but instead, he waves a dismissive hand at Charles, “No, no, you’re right. I’m happy to show you around, Y/N.”

Spinning in your seat, you give a short nod to Scott before turning to Charles, “Thank you for everything, Professor. I’m excited to work with you.” Your demeanor changes completely as you join Scott. Truthfully, he’s a bit offended. Yeah, sure, maybe the Professor was impressive in his heyday, but he can’t be so great now that even looking at Scott nearly disgusts you.

“So, is there anything you wanna see first? Rooms, the land?” Scott asks after ten steps of agonizing silence. Your answer surprises him more than anything he’s ever encountered, he believes. With a completely straight face and not a chuckle in sight, you rest your hand on Scott’s arm, “Yeah, hey, do you mind if I kiss you?”

For a moment, Scott just opens and closes his mouth, trying to make sure he heard you correctly, but then, just as he’s sure his mind - or Jean’s - is playing tricks on him, you ask again, “Scott. Can I kiss you?” Yep, definitely real. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, if you want to you can, you can kiss me. If you want.” Scoffing, you shake your head, “I have to more than want to. Do you care if I kiss you on the mouth, or do you prefer somewhere else? Each kiss is different and will have different effects on our relationship and what I see, so you can choose whatever you think will be the most comfortable.”

It is absolutely blowing Scott’s mind how nonchalant you are about kissing an absolute stranger on the mouth, an act so intimate and emotional - “Oh! That’s what you do right? Kissing people, you get emotions and stuff.” Scott doesn’t let you answer before he’s nodding, “Okay. You can kiss me on the mouth.” At the thought, Scott’s heart starts accelerating it’s pumping speed.

You, on the other hand just give an anemic smile and cup your hand around the back of his neck. The approach is much more tender than he thought it’d be. Scott was expecting a quick, hands-free peck or a tug of his shirt, but pulling him closer the way you are - he may be reading into it - definitely seems like a romantic move more than one born of necessity. Your lips press together slowly, and Scott thanks everyone above him that he has been remembering to regularly moisturize his lips because he will make it his mission for you to be thinking about kissing him again once you’re through here.

Cradling your face gingerly like he’s seen guys do in the movies his mom loves to watch, Scott inhales a large breath through his nose before taking control of the kiss. He doesn’t speed up or try to shove his tongue down your throat, but instead, meshes your lips in long, soft sessions of sparks before slightly readjusting for the next installment. He isn’t a kissing expert, but Alex always said that kissing was as natural as walking once you got your feet on the ground or your lips together.

Scott doesn’t pull away until he runs out of breath - this takes a while as he spent lots of time swimming and hoping to develop gills and the ability to live underwater as a child - and when he does, he does it slowly, first separating your lips while still keeping his nose and forehead pressed to yours. Dropping his hands, Scott breaks all contact and gauges your expression. Your eyes are shining and a smile is tugging at the corner of your lips. Scott, of course, doesn’t want to toot his own horn but root-a-toot-toot.

“That was different than any other first kisses I’ve had.” You say to Scott as you resume your walking. He’s a bit upset that you’ve caught your breath so easily, as he still feels like he’s run a marathon, but Scott just lets those thoughts roll off of his shoulders and he catches up to you, “Because it was so good?” Scott asks. You see his eyebrows lift behind his clunky glasses and can’t help but laugh a bit, “Mostly because I pull things from whoever I’m kissing. I got what I needed to develop a relationship for us in my mind, a lot of how you feel about me, if the kiss wasn’t telling enough, your thoughts did it all.”

At your confession, Scott groans, “I didn’t know you could do all of that... But it was still good, right?” Before you can answer, Ororo steps out of the door on your right and leans against the doorway, “Was what still good, Scott?” Knowing she was eavesdropping since you rounded into the long hallway, Scott groans again, but you have absolutely no qualms about what you do or have done, so you happily speak up, “I had to kiss Scott and he was asking how it was after I commented on how different it was from the other times I’ve kissed people. Do you mind if I kiss you?”

Scott just barely holds in a gasp at your question. Sure, he knows you have to do it, but he was hoping you’d need some time to recover from your kiss, or at least savor the taste a bit, but here you were, merely seconds later requesting to kiss Ororo. Part of Scott, that slightly selfish part, is hoping she’ll say no, ask you to wait, but instead, Ororo shrugs, “Sure.” And just like that, with no more questions or nerves to shake out, you step towards Ororo and kiss her mouth chastely. There is no touching or holding, which is a relief for Scott, and when you step back, there is an emotion in your eyes for her rather than the level-eyed boredness you addressed her with before. Ororo knew well who you were, Scott had spent all day talking about you, so sending him a sly smile, Ororo clears her throat, “That was good, right?”

You can’t help but to chuckle, but Scott just takes your arm and continues pulling you down the hall, “Very funny, Ororo, you should take your jokes on the road, away from here." Straight ahead, Scott sees two people who heard him rambling on about you this morning and he knows that if they see you, they’ll stop you and if they stop you, you’ll ask to kiss them, and honestly, he doesn’t really feel like watching you kiss anyone else just yet, so he does what makes the most sense. Scott takes a sharp left and pulls you into his room.

"So that, you, you have... Are you gonna kiss everybody?" He asks, releasing you and doing a quick pace of his room. You give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, "Pretty much. It's like an itch, you know? It almost burns to meet someone new and not at least ask them if I can kiss them. It's how I open up, Scott. I have no emotion towards people I haven't kissed before, and a genuine lack of any emotion is difficult. If this is about our kiss, I did really like it, and I would like to do it again -" Scott perks up at this, smiling proudly, "You would? You did?" His enthusiasm is adorable and you can't help but laugh a little as you answer, "Yeah, but that won't nor can it diminish my need to kiss other people, especially ones I interact with on a regular basis. I only have to do it once, but it still has to happen.”

Scott nods his head sheepishly, feeling himself being called out in the explanation. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense, sorry.” Giving him a pointed look, you show your acceptance with a small smile and a twitch of your eyebrows before heading towards the door. Making a quick, and probably dumb, decision, Scott rushes in front of you and presses his back to the door, “You said you only have to kiss someone once, but are you allowed to kiss someone more than once? Is that okay?” You know where he’s going, but you level your face and play ignorant. If he’s going to do this, you’re going to make him work for it. “I suppose, I wouldn’t really gain much. Unless of course, the person in question is very good at hiding their emotions or motive, then it may be revealed in the second kiss, but ultimately, yes, it’s alright. Did that answer your question?”

Scott sputters for a moment, because technically, you did answer the question. “Well, yeah, but I was - can I? Do you mind if I kiss you? Again, I mean.” You roll your eyes fondly and connect your mouth to his. This kiss doesn’t last anywhere near as long as the first one when you hear a popping noise and look behind you to see a blue mutant standing there. He begins to apologize immediately, and Scott tries to open the door and pull you out of the room before it’s too late, but before he can grab hold of you, you step away from him and towards Kurt, as Scott called him. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Not Like This

warnings: underage drinking, cussing, that’s it lmao

word count: 1.4 K

A/N: i saw an episode of new girl with a plot like this and I LITERALLY WROTE THIS IN ONE SESSION LIKE I STARTED IT AT 6 AND FINISHED IT AT 7 IVE NEVER BEEN SO INSPIRED WTFFF also i’m still working on a warren smut BUT I HAD TO WRITE THIS ASAP

(Y/n)’s thoughts were pulled away from her homework as someone pounded on her door.

“Open up!!!”

(Y/n) hopped up, heading to the door, “What the fu-”

“Hey!” 

Jubilee pushed her way into (Y/n)’s room, hands holding two bottles of vodka.

“What the fuck? Why-”

“Guess what?! My senior friend just turned 18 so look what she brought me!!”

“No.”

Jubilee placed the bottles on (Y/n)’s desk. 

“Jubilee, no! One, we’re underage. What if the professor or Hank finds out? And two, I have so much homework!”

“Oh shut up! It’s Friday night. You can do your work tomorrow. Plus..... Warren will be there.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, letting out a huff as she sat down on her bed. 

“Isn’t he still dating Betsy?”

Jubilee laughed, “They were never dating- just hooking up.”

(Y/n) glared at her, “That doesn’t make it any better. And that doesn’t answer my question!”

She sat next to (Y/n) on the bed, “Jean said that Scott said that Warren said he dropped her. Said something about wanting to actually date someone, not just hook up.”

(Y/n) stayed silent, eyes trained on the bottles sitting at her desk. Her mind was running wild with thoughts of Warren. They had been very close their freshman year at the school, having shared four classes. (Y/n) had been unable to stop herself from forming feelings. She never once spoke of them to Warren, too afraid for the inevitable moment where he would say, “I like you, but as a friend.”

(Y/n) however, didn’t know that Warren had felt the same that year. And every year after. He constantly felt like he wasn’t good enough for her. Actually scratch that- he knew he wasn’t good enough for her. He figured the best way to suppress those feelings was to focus on other girls, a lot of other girls.

Even throughout his little fuck boy phase, (Y/n) was still his best friend. Except lately it had been different. He started to confide in Scott more. There were things he couldn’t share with (Y/n). They were usually about (Y/n) so obviously he couldn’t talk to her about how he’d had a crush on her since 9th grade. 

“(Y/n).”

“Huh?”

“I bet he wants to date you.”

“Shut up.”

Jubilee shoved her, “I’m serious! You guys are so close!”

“That doesn’t mean anything. We are just friends. Don’t get my hopes up.”

Jubilee hummed, not knowing what to say to that. “Well, he’s coming over here. The whole gang is.”

“Why is it always my room?”

Jubilee gestured like it was obvious, “You have the most furniture! More space for True American!”

(Y/n) sighed, leaning back, “You suck.”

“I rock! You should clean up before tonight, I’ll get the vacuum.”

It was now 9:30 and the whole “gang” ((Y/n), Scott, Jean, Warren, Kurt, Ororo, Jubilee, and Peter) were almost done with one of the bottles. 

They were in the middle of true american, a drinking game Peter had made up his first year at the school. The game was usually utter nonsense, but seemed even worse now that everyone was tipsy. They had been playing for an hour, each person still in the game was stationed on a piece of furniture to avoid the hot lava (the floor). 

Peter downed his shot, “High stakes round for the remaining players! Kiss and tell!”

(Y/n), Ororo, Warren, and Jean (the remaining players) followed suit, downing their vodka, “Kiss and tell!”

“Okay,” Peter slurred, “Doing the count, okay?”

Warren placed his cup down on the desk he was standing on, “No one do three! No one do three!”

Peter cleared his throat, “Doing the count! Three, two, one!” 

As he counted down everyone put a number on their forehead using their fingers. 

Miraculously, it seemed as though no one had the same number. 

“Warren! (Y/n)! You’re up!” 

Warren stood up straight on the desk, “What?! I said don’t do three!”

(Y/n) looked at her hand, clearly holding up two fingers, “I didn’t!”

“Huh?,” Warren looked at his hand, holding up two fingers as well, “Oh! I forgot to do three.”

“Stupid!”

Peter started chanting, “Kiss and tell! Kiss and tell!”

“No! Come on, we’re too drunk for this!”

(Y/n) hated to admit how hearing Warren protest hurt her feelings. 

“You know the rules, kiss and tell or you’re out! And this is high stakes! We’re up to $20 in the pile.”

Warren groaned, hopping off the desk, being safe from the lave because of “kiss and tell.” 

(Y/n) climbed off her nightstand, following Warren towards the corner that over the past few months has been named “the kissing corner” for this reason exactly. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Peter started the chant, getting everyone else to join.

Warren placed his hands on (Y/n)’s shoulders awkwardly. “I don’t want to do this.”

Ouch, she thought.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want to though.”

Ouch again.

“Just kiss me! Or we’re both out.”

“No!”

“Warren if you get me out of this game I swear to God!”

“I don’t want to!”

Peter clapped his hands together, “Come on! Don’t be a pussy! High stakes! High stakes!”

“Just do it, Warren.”

Warren closed his eyes, slowly leaning in. 

“No- I, I can’t do this.”

“Oh come on! $20!”

“Just no, (Y/n)! Not- not like this.”

“W-what?”

(Y/n)’s eyes were wide, trying to understand what that meant.

“N-nothing. Just- just..” 

Warren’s cheeks were bright red, and not just from the alcohol. He let go of her shoulders, pushing past her and out the door. 

“What?” (Y/n) felt like she was rooted to the spot.

“So.. Warren is disqualified! (Y/n), you’re still in and we can do another round of the count for kiss and tell.”

(Y/n) looked at Peter and then back at the door, “No, I-I need to go talk to him, sorry. I’m out.”

(Y/n) ran out of her room, not even bothering to put shoes on, which was probably a bad idea because she immediately fell on her ass as she tried to run down the hallway in her socks. 

(Y/n) stood back up, deciding to walk around the school, hoping to find Warren somewhere. She first went to his dorm, knocking. She couldn’t hear anyone inside so she decided to move towards the back hallway. As she walked past the windows, she saw the stark white of Warren’s wings. He was sitting on a bench outside, staring off into the lake.

(Y/n) tiptoed outside, not wanting to be heard yet. She snuck up behind him before taking a seat next to him. He didn’t flinch at all, just stayed staring forward.

“Hey.”

Warren nodded, glancing towards her real quick before looking back towards the water.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I-”

“You didn’t do anything, don’t apologize.”

(Y/n) nodded, staring at the water with him. 

“So what was that?”

Warren shrugged, his face burning.

“Don’t just shrug. What did “not like this” mean? Not like what?”

“It’s nothing, (Y/n).”

She rolled her eyes, looking at him. “It’s obviously something.”

Warren huffed, “I- I just didn’t want to kiss you for a stupid game.”

“It wouldn’t have been stupid, we could’ve been in the running for $20 bucks!”

Warren let out a small laugh, “You don’t get it.”

He glanced towards her before looking down at his feet. 

“I like you, (Y/n). And- and I didn’t want to have our first kiss in front of all of them while getting drunk in a stupid drinking game.”

“Oh-”

“I’m sorry, that was probably embarrassing for you, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, Warren. It’s okay. I- um, like you too.”

Warren’s head whipped to face her, “Really? Like actually?”

(Y/n) nodded, giving him a shy smile. 

“Cool, cool, cool-”

“Cool.”

“Did you drop Betsy to date me?”

Warren’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Well, Jubilee said-”

“Scott, that little bastard. I trust him with ONE secret and he tells the whole world.”

(Y/n)’s leg was bouncing up and down, “So it’s true?”

“Yeah. I mean- honestly I only ever got with Betsy to try and not like you, but it just made things worse.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m stupid.”

(Y/n) nodded, “Yeah.”

Warren elbowed her lightly, making her laugh. He turned to see her face. 

“C-can I kiss you now? Show you how I wanted it to be like?”

(Y/n) nodded, feeling speechless.

Warren slowly leaned in, eyes closed. His lips brushed up against hers lightly before the kiss became more firm. (Y/n) felt fireworks going off in her stomach and felt as though all the breath had been sucked out of her. She pulled away to get air.

“Wow.”

Warren laughed, kissing her cheek. 

“I wanted it like that. Just us. No games.”

“I liked that.”

“Me too.” 

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @queen-baelin 

hmu to be added!

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

Laura Kinney and Hurt/Comfort please?

anon asked: laura dealing with her self-harm thoughts hurt/comfort? i struggle with this like her and just wanted to see her loved and supported. feel free to ignore this prompt if its upsetting

i’m combining these two prompts. this may turn into something longer later, but for now it’s quite short.

TW: mentions of self-harm

“Laura?” Jubilee eased her bedroom door open. “Yo, you okay?”

She hastily wiped her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Gabby called me,” she shrugged, “said there was an icecream emergency that needed mine and Shogo’s immediate attention.”

Now that she listened, Laura could hear the fitful gigglesof the baby as Gabby entertained him some way or another. Hopefully not in away that was fragile.

“…And she said there was a serious case of big sis blues,” sheadded after she sat down, turning more sincere. Laura kept smoothing her handsover her arms, knees tucked in close to her chest, and Jubie shuffled onto thebed to sit beside her.

“I get that stuff can be overwhelming,” she said, taking apunt at the possible root of the issue. Laura appreciated the attempt. “It’s alot of pressure to look after someone littler than you, I mean, you remember whatI was like when I first got Shogo… You love ‘em to death and you never want tolet them out of your sight but at the same time you’re so tired and you just wanta second by yourself and—”

She stopped abruptly, and it made Laura stop rubbing herarms and staring into space. She looked at her, and her eyes were fixed rightwhere she’d hoped they wouldn’t.

She touched two fingers to the thin red smear that was leftthere, and they came away dry, but her eyes had already moved to reach Laura’s;searching, open… scared.

“I didn’t mean to,” she choked, and Jubie pulled her close, wrappingboth arms around her with a little too much of her strength.

“Oh, L…” she said, and she was crying too, but they bothstifled the sounds, not wanting them to leave the room and find their way tothe kids’ ears. There was a comforting pressure between them, and it wasgrounding, bringing her back to the apartment and what was real.

When the pressure relaxed, Laura wiped her nose. “It reallywas an accident,” she mumbled. “But then I started thinking about…”

Jubilee took both of her hands. There was no hesitation; theirfingers entwined, and it was a warm, gentle reminder that claws weren’t theonly thing that belonged there. That these hands were good for something else,something softer, something she had,in this apartment and outside it. Jubie squeezed before she let go, reachinginto her back pocket and producing a packet of baby wipes.

“Being a mom has made me so prepared,” she flashed a grinand tore it open before wiping at the blood on her arms and between herknuckles. When she was done, she balled it up and said, “Wha’d’you say we investigatethis ice cream emergency?”

With a smile, she let Jubilee tow her from the bedroom bythe hand. When they entered the living room, Shogo raised his arms andexclaimed, “Aa!” and Gabby waved happily to them, mirroring his enthusiasm.

“Hey, little man,” Jubie picked up her son, and he giggled.She turned around so that he could see Laura and asked him, “Hey, you rememberwho this is?”

Shogo chewed on his finger for a moment, and then extendedhis pudgy little hands out to her and cried, “Bub!”

“He calls us all Bub,” Gabby grinned as he was passed intoLaura’s arms. “Old Logan too.”

His hands were exploring her face, harmless fingers pressinginto her cheek, and he suddenly turned and pointed at Gabby. “Buh!”

“Is he pointing out my scars?” she asked, delighted.

“He likes pretty things,” Jubie said, her face in thefreezer, and before Laura could ask what she was doing, she extracted severaltubs of ice cream that hadn’t been there earlier. “I couldn’t decide. Being amom hasn’t made me any better at choosing between sweets.”

Gabby had approached Laura and Shogo while she was talking,and gave Shogo a warm smile as he chewed on his hand again. She looked at Lauraand asked gently, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, and wrapped her free arm around her sister,pulling her in close with Shogo. She was lucky to have a family like this one,who would declare ice cream emergencies and hold her hands and ask after hereven when they weren’t sure what to say. “You did good,” she said into herhair. “You did amazing.”

“Nn!” Shogo agreed.

[nocancer]

Tryna by Cancer moon

Before Young T went to bed he poured a glass of water and looked out the kitchen window to his backyard and noted how the snow made 3:00 A.M. look like 6:00 P.M.. Only difference being that if he stepped outside with his glass of water to the seeming twilight he wouldn’t be able to hear the rush-hour traffic like he usually could if it was Friday and 6:00 P.M.. Young T didn’t bother going outside because the snow was still falling a little and it’d be there when he woke up. And the neighborhood would still be silent, as it always was.

Young T woke up and his fan was still humming its white noise which he needed to sleep at night even though it was January and his dad was reluctant to leave the heat on over night. The small fan sat on his dresser and was pointed away from his bed towards his window which emitted a sharper and more blinding afternoon light than what he was used to. He checked his phone for the time, it was about noon - about the time where his parents bedroom door would open and their TV would blast the local news and his persian cat, Jo Jo, would meow at his door from which would force him out of bed to open the door so Jo Jo could jump up on his bed to sleep on his pillow from which he would either start his day or keep doing nothing. This time he laid back down, idly on his bed, with the covers pulled over his head to lessen the effects of his slight cat allergy. Jo Jo had a flat face and was grey and fat, and he occupied the entire pillow. Young T thought of how he wanted to trade lives with Jo Jo.

Young T couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he looked at his phone. He bireifly looked at worldstarhiphop, Twitter, then Instagram.

Then he went to bed with a head ache and woke up in college.

9/27/17 wednesday

Tycho: excuse me, hey, getting along just fine, I see? Yolandra: hey, and yeah, sort of, just studying, whats going on with you T: Nothing, the usual, i guess, being responsible, trying not to offend anyone. Y: Oh but you're so innocent. If anyone's offended its on them, not you. T: But my presence alone, I dont know, like I'm out of place or something. And I just want to tell people,  Yeah, so, I know how strange it is, me being here and all. Y: You're a free spirit amongst prisoners. That was my favorite part about getting to know you.

Tycho: After all these years, not for a second did i think you were right for me. And thats why i liked you. Cus I'm crazy. Yolandra: thats okay? what do you mean?, i want to get inside your head again. T: [pause] Most people wouldnt understand. Y: Don't be too cool for school. Im not most people. If I knew what was good for me, I'd have cut ties with you a long time ago. But im a crazy bitch too. Havent you realized? T: Yes. Youre highly psychic when it comes to "free spirits" like me - and you, though maybe, "lost soul" would be a better term for me. Though I dont mind being lost. It keeps things interesting.   Anyway, you should spend your energy on solving world hunger than worrying about me. Y: dont be so difficult. catching vibes isnt easy you know? coming for your type. Who knows, maybe youre worth it. Tycho: well, your the first to try me like this. im mysterious for a reason. Yolandra: And do you know why exactly? T: Thats for me to decide. Y: It's so damn frustrating. But I guess some things are better left unsaid. T: Most people wouldnt understand that, what youre saying. Indescribable feelings we know happened but fall short in explaining. That sort of thing. Y: I call those. "You had to be there" moments. Tycho: Honestly i never gave up on you, only myself, thinking you were different from my dream girl.   it took months for me to realize that but when i did the only thing i wanted to do was forget i ever met you. Yolandra: than what? T: the rest of these simple people that surround us, they see in a way thats opposite of what i am. Y: how convenient it must be. to blame your problems on people you dont even know. and just say "fuck it." I envy you. T: just my luck haha. of being born into myself, my personality forgive me, i dont mean to be such a downer. thats my ego talking Y: you had to be there T: where? Y: in my memories. T: it matters that much to you? Y: if I could find you in a crowd, just to say something, anything, even if i have to scream it in your ear,  then you'd know how much it means to me. Tycho: I'll be waiting for you to say hola.

9/30/17 saturday In the midst of an obnoxious trap beat I remember what my grandpa used to tell me. It's the harsh realities of life that stick with us the most. A dream is only a dream until you make it come true. Never hit a women no exceptions." He would say to a 7 year old me. Now I wish I had the balls back then to tell him that his strict army ass probably never had a dream that went beyond what he already knew. Like revisiting the same shitty cloud of meaningless thoughts every night till you reincarnate into someone who revisits a slightly less shitty cloud over and over until they become someone like me, who lives on the cloud everyone strives to be, forgetting those elvish looking folks of the below who never leave the house except to get groceries. There's comes a point in life where you just gotta be honest with yourself, and say hey, i just dont match the freqeuncy anymore. It's okay. I can still pretend like that one MGMT song, but im fading away. Fuck. I get naseous and imagine a cop coming around the corner which kills my vibe for a second so I take my headphones off, spit on my finger tip, ash the blunt, and walk to my dorm. I'm in water so muddy that the surface is all I have to cling onto. What lies beneath is my past, housing the memories like demons. Of course, her face, would be in the middle. Falling more faintly in detail as I wake up sober and go to sleep high and dream nonsense that somehow doesnt go away like the usual forgotten dream you usually wouldnt give a second thought to otherwise but this morning my head feels foggy and theres a vague recollection of a search going on but I dont know what it's for and my chances of knowing diminish as I go deeper into the day. A search, it's on repeat, like my brain is an actual TV. Thats probably a normal thought to have, though I've never heard it in real words. "Is my brain a TV." I say to myself.                                                                 if you can call it that. but those take the shape of monsters of which, as if I had no choice, I find myself preparing for so when the moment really matters, I can either go down in a blaze of glory or come out on top like the badass I imagine myself to be. All I know is that I was born and now I have to live.

Maybe because my past is so glaringly depicted onto a person I refuse to acknowledge. All that shit was a dream. The only thing that matters is the present, right? Bill Nye the Science Guy would agree with that. Back in elementary whenever we had a sub for the day, a cart would roll in and thats how you knew. I watched his show in elementary school, when we had a substitute teacher. Those were the best days. I had no worries then, able to speak freely with no inhibitions as if duality had nothing to latch its mechanical claws onto. Wait, I'm thinking about the past again. And thats going way back. Fuck! Okay.. On your feet soldier! That baby momma drama dont fly out here in the real world. out here  it's the winners and the losers, haves and the have-nots,  thats the way it is.

We're here to endure anxiety. I dont care about this slave shit. I think im gonna drop out. These fucking people bro, I shouldve known better than to come here. Deep down in the recesses of my highly realized capacity for recognizing everyday objects I'm  hearing the voice my computer makes. It just so happens that I'm a little different from everyone else. I see things. Feel them. Some are expressed. Others proccessed. Though most get put away for later. These things I speak of is all they'll ever be to Some bad. Some good. But in the end I understand the root cause  is nothing and thats where I pretty much exist anyway. In between any and all things, including people. At least that what it feels like. So although I may come off as shy and maybe a bit soft to the average layperson I aint no bitch and I wont hesitate to put my body on the line to make some headway when it comes to cementing my place as a savage demon in the halls of said layperson's memory bank. Someone who is wise would recognize the virtue of my conviction It is only because I must prepare for that singular moment, an unknown point in the fabric of time and space. To where if theyre not careful, a life's worth of energy should be pitted against me as if one were to stand a chance against the power housed within my vessle. Theres no such thing as a polite gesture. Nobody asks me how my day is "going" for no other reason than to relay to me how their own special day is "going". reckoning between a humble acknowledgement that I can never truly grasp the reason for existing and therefor should play my part in keeping the peace, versus pure badass in a world of sheep. And the more I get to know my surroundings, the more I reach erradically for the inherent bliss found within the path of satanism.

000t333g922276888o

Spmewhere off in the distance, Crermoth sits on a palm tree idly sculpting astral suspensions into a tattered fervor of mesh for working the keys of ineptitude. She is oblivious to her surroundings, not caring for chatty and gossip which she cant seperate between her reality and theirs because she is sensitive and when the the fully recognized sage, Esoh, confronts her about she says she much prefers it that way.

Their balance among them. With the wind at her side, Hojihka refuses the initial preference of her stillness and moves in a nameless precession by the whim of her ancestral birth right. "aaa may-ee soo shay-noo"

Her possession wakes up without a name. a new and more elaborate transposition of jubilee onto each successive indifference. The attention to one area renders the outer confines a vacuum enveloping the excess span unto both of their liable to taken over like a plain, sole, unconscious will. It certainly does its job Crermoth and has become something of a plan b pill thats taken during one of her many unpredictable episodes of self hate and general spiritual torment. One time she told J-Money she was a demon in a matter of factness that still haunts J-Money in moments when he pretends it doesnt bother him.. Reliant upon the interaction of her world and the next. Crermoth normally prefers being to herself on nights like these, that way she can answer any calls at a moments notice. A dimension close enough so that she may assist her friends in earthly manners of which, by the natural law of limitation, those lacking the incessant nobility of the Orisha cannot be bothered to see to themselves, less the tether between her world and theirs be rendered a useless tattered fervor of mesh that gives way to any varitable knock of an over arching brood of usurpment of the mundane frequency. “I need space. I only have but so much light of see to her calling as a being of light, assisting the pieces of herself that we’re lost during the falling. You remember that don’t you?” She says “Of course I remember. But only as a matter of fact. Upon closer reflection I fail to see the relevance of a subtle hunch with no bearings in the present.”

I must know that I’m allowed to be straight up with you, else I run the risk of straying from my calling. If there’s anything I hate more than being ignored its catching myself being lazy to the voices. “She musn’t veer to far.” Esoh said on a mountain.

999c4477P72222cv555566

The woman wakes up to look around. Store-bought soil, empty bike-rack, office building. "Harder. Think harder. Come on girl." She stands for dignity's sake. A car traces a hilltop in the distance. She raises her cold arms to the sun in defiance of stillness. Nothing is in tune with the nature of her being besides the stale wind of a coming day. "Where are you?" The car freezes as it reaches the horizon, but the sound remains on loop. Whirrrrr A portal manifests abruptly and Elegua arrives on a chariot of skulls. "Erzulie, madame, how nice it is to see you this early in the morning." A whisp of fire cleans her face and the car continues over the horizon. "It really shouldnt be, not like this. Where Im at should tell a lot you know." Erzulie said. "Quite a dense reply to a longtime friend, dont you think" "Hmm, considering how I slept in a bush last night and dont remember a thing. I shouldnt need to explain myself." "No? is the friz on your hair not matching the blood on your knees? I can't tell which." Elegua said.     Or is the attitude possessing you as if theres no consequence for ill-manneredness? I cant tell which." So long as one's not so dense up his selfish ass that he aint notice." "Oh so now all a sudden you about the finer things in life? We can switch places less you miss me. Erzulie said. Im only pointing out the obvious." Elegua said. Erzulie replied with silence, forcing life to flash before his eyes. She learned this from her Mother, Darkness. "Attitude is possessing you. I cant tell why but its a poison I dont deserve. I was only trying to help" He continued. "I just dont fuck with being called too early. So long as youre not too dense up your ass to take notice, safe to say i'm in some shit right now." "Clearly. A product of consequence." Elegua said randomly. "Yeah, recognize. Please, for me, baby?" "No more testing your patience, Goddess immortal of justice. Save that for what I came to tell you about." "Take me to cleanliness, saintly promise of wisdom. For im not feeling myself." They left the scene to the past and pondered on the pyramid they had just made with each other. "It's nice to be home." Erzulie said. Flying over the palm trees brought Elegua back to his power. "On the basis of love." Elegua said. The salt-water washed away all glimpses of doubt Erzulie had of her beauty. And she harnessed the pastels of the ocean. Thus, all guilt was abolished and unconditional love was convinced to dance within them. Drying his body under the rays of Amen reminded Elegua of his first words. Long ago, before Time was born. "O Father, you are so brilliant." "Thank you, son. I am the Light" "Then tell me, Father, if you are the Light, and are so brilliant, then why is it you flee from Darkness?" "All I do is my purpose, which seeks to balance harmony with creation. Although it is much more complicated than that. Like always I suppose. I'm afraid you ask me a question that I cannot answer. Here, because you are so curious, I will show you." "I'm ready, Father." Light grew brighter causing Elegua to cry in his recollection of what it felt like to say words. The links in his mind straining to pull in the right words. Not too plain to where the moment would be lost in happen stance, and not too radical so that his manhood could stay irrefutable (to convey meaning.) Then Light disintegrated into everything and Elegua searched for Light ever since. So Elegua went to the crossroads, and prodded Darkness for Light's wherabouts, "I want to relive the the moments before he left for eternity. Where can I find him?" Without a hug or a kiss, she told him to let go of his experience in order to live in the now, "Take his place and move forward. Grow up, your Daddy's gone cus you never did." "How could you say that me? I love you, Mom. Yet all I get is hate. Why are you hiding the truth from me?" "If I don't hate you, then who will? You got so much to learn that my heart breaks into brass. You must leave, understand me? LEAVE, before I do what your Father did and them some. I'm this close. Believe me." With nowhere else to go, Elegua obeyed the commands of his Mother. Although lonely at first, the spirits of the dead related to his despair, and offered to guide him through all the known and unknown realms of Ether, so long as he guided the spirits of the living to his Mother. So that the dead could learn for themselves the origins of their being dead. And when Light came back, they could say "Father, we know of Hate, now teach us Love." Elegua tried telling them that it was hopeless, that his Father was there, just not in the way they imagined, that they we're actually his Father and they had to realize it through an altered perception. but that negativity only made them more adament to their cause which annoyed Elegua into a manic spell of existential irony which persisted during times of war with the Snakes on 5th density. One battle in particular Badly wounded, he pulled his chariot with his arms to the middle of a corn-field on a full-moon during the Solstice, it was there he made a pact with his self, to never be ignorant to the fact that fate was an inescapable constant within all contributors to existence. That the very fabric that distinguishes the dead from the living was comprised of scattered shards of an indestructable essence that attached itself to the spirit-body via fate which is the Father of destiny. That the collective conscious is woven by the thread of Fate, thus binding a common goal, or Destiny, inherent to all beings of both polarities, thus setting in motion the spiral of gnosis, which lends itself to the spreading of keys that open the doors to helping each other fulfill each others Purpose. "I will collect the pieces of my Father so that I may speak with him again as I did as a child. I will never forget you because I love you. You are everything to me, which is all I ever could be. Please, I want to know why you flee in the face of Darkness."

____10/9/17 monday

My pace quickens as I veer away from the crowd onto the handicap stairs. I silently count my steps to give off a pensive, non-assuming vibe. Over by the quad theres crows just walking on the grass. Yet I'm the only one who seems to notice, even from a distance. The busses haul ass down Memorial St. I've learned to always be on alert because I'll never know whats waiting for me when I turn my attention off the floor and become reminded of string theory. Artificial energy, cork boards with grime on the edges, tunnel of dull ends, spongy plywood cielings. as i step with my head down and in every so sudden a demarcation in the bricks, the reptiles answer emails. This is where I'm going. Because my soul chose to live here at some point in time not too long ago considering the relationship between all that the universe has to offer and my general apathy towards said all as in any and all one. Which has become quite of a bore ever since the first week ended I had to come to terms with the reality that friends won't simply fall into my lap like they would     if I wasnt such      a masochist for being lonely. The row of pillars turn to one and all I see is the contentment in the air of the lobby. In the hallway are casually turned faces which glide about in a linear fashion like the ghost of a lost bride.. I get a side-view of the people afraid to admit that this is far from the paradise we expected it to be. The brochure in our acceptance letters didn't include the drunken nights of another dimension. I'm inside the life of an architect. One who's dead by now, but lives on through his work. I'm not going anywhere, the building would say, if it could talk. And I suppose it can. Because I just had the thought, and nothing is ever truly wrong without another thought to compare it to. But then if buildings could speak existed first, and was allowed to grow and find its place in the universe, then it'd be established enough to not warrant an adversary. But the question remains where, if it existed, was its fate organized before coming into my mind, awaiting my final judgement. Substitute me for a unicellular collective conscious and it seems like we're all dealers of fate her on planet earth of the milky way of the universe of the whatever comes next (should we ever know for sure). he or she deserves all the credit for it manifesting onto the grid of my consciousness, which is a zig zag joint's worth of a high right now. The perfect amount for not giving a fuck while still staying slick enough for witty comebacks. Which wouldn't hurt right now. This building isn't going anywhere. Though I wish it would. Because I dread what I'm about to do How he must have pained to communicate something he could call his own while maintaining a dignified and safe, always safe, because god forgive, well, you know, , putting the pen to the pad, drawing  collumns in front of a Victorian fassad Succumbing to authority just to eat with a roof over your head and not freeze your ass off like a homeless freak. Profit margins in the final half of quarter one are lower than 1 standard deviation to what is considered by corporate to be optimal. As of now, the college has no incentive to ship in product from outside sources. All inventory must be stored in house to the buyer's demand. You better not be late.

___ On the parking deck

Tycho: “I had a dream I was on an internet forum. Someone posted the words: “life is an endless hell. With a blurry picture of a street at night-time. Not much different from what’s in front of us. I thought that made sense, until I scrolled down, to see a video looking out the windshield of a vintage rolls royce, coasting along a pacific highway. And the lines kept going. Next thing you know I’m falling down a pitch black waterslide, dreading my destination. If I never woke up I have a funny feeling i know where it was leading.

Preacher: In that instance did you feel the need to repent for your sins?

Tycho: No. that didn’t cross my mind. It was too late at that point.

Miranda: “I used to.

T: What made it stop?

Miranda: Seeing all the happy people around me. And knowing that they’ve been through the same shit. Break-ups, Death in the family, just generally feeling lost.

My heart was broken ”

T: Getting over the mind can be a dark place when it has nowhere else to rest. You can train it to think anything.”

Miranda: True

Tycho: Lately Ive been taking these long drives late at night into the boonies. Just to see where I up. I realized theres so many lives I’ll never know about.

If i wasnt born into money maybe I’d be humble enough to hate myself for even thinking such a thing.

How’d you get out of that?

Miranda:

These know it all professors are getting on my nerves. I fear Im crossing into an abyss I’ll never fully understand. Honestly I can’t fuckin stand these people. What name do I have to make for myself that i haven’t already experienced in the depths of my soul?

Tyco: You know how they try to act like they all official and shit, like I won’t see past it.

Miranda: [agreement] They do that.

Tyco: [stream of consciousness] So I just told her look I know its a rule, but I’m all about learning at my own pace and no disrespect i love her but Mrs. Soso can only go so far in telling me how to write. You can give tips and tricks but at the end of the day, I’ve been developed my writing style.. Like I thought we were done with all this high school shit. Well I didnt say that.

M: And what’d she say?

Tyco: She was like “As you get further into your major 90% of your assignments will be in essay format.. we require full participation “ At this im like she gonna hit me with the book like hell nah THEN outta nowhere She said “However, I also believe in 2nd chances.”. On the outside I was cool but inside I was like “*fist bump* yo i cannot fail outta college like someone watchin out for me idk who but-

Chad: fuck that shiiiiit *holds up white rum in front of street light”

Friend in background: 12! 12! 12!

Abrupt scene change. Camera shows Tyco zoned out. Then police car, as Tyco begins to hide behind the tree hes smoking on.

My black hoodie and phone-call to my dealer will still be with me tomorrow as I do the same thing.

(From a dream 10/23)

Tyco is driving around serving with Shantel when she lights her phone up from the passenger seat and puts the phone to her ear.

Shantel: You are not finna be talkin all that mess on my phone. Be honest with                  yourself. Don’t lie. You a hoe ass bitch.

?? Caller: Why are you even calling me? I dont give a fuck.

Shantel: Wait till I pull up then and slap the shit out you. Would that be better                     sweety?

?? Caller: I’m at Kawaii’s 30 deep. Bring your lil boyfriend and see what                          happens.

Shantel: Try me bitch.

[ The economy sedan turns right on red seemingly without breaking. ]

Tyco: 30 deep huh?

Shantel: With them ratchets.

Tyco: She sounds scared as hell aint nobody sticken up for her like that. You know they gonna talk shit right but soon as we throw them hands they gon be like, I dont know that bitch.

Shantel: nah but she stupid tho like not even worth all that extra

Tyco: We’re going. Wheres that nigga house i’ll waze that shit and we get there we just pop off. Aite?

[Not looking at the road, but to her, coasting down an average 2-lane with box neon trimmed tire shops and drive-thru windows governed stately as immovable beasts of mothership stores lurk behind low-sodium trenches of the new world order’s surveillence agenda for mass poplations en masse. ]

              Just follow me. I’m walkin in and gonna start a commotion just bussin                 and you just break this bottle on her mother fuckin head and we out.

Shantel: haaah what okay

Tyco: You’re gonna fuck her shit up som serious.

Shantel: She talk shit about you.

Tyco: It’s in the stars babe for real.

Shantel: You gonna help me find that bitch?

Tyco: You my fucken queen I love you and I got you.

Neighborhood entrance.

Cars parked for miles.

House identified first glance.

Park.

Car doors..

Hip-Hop

Grass.

Walkway.

Steps.

Porch.

Door opens and yellow tops within the frame.

!! WHERE YOU AT// YALL FAKE AND CANT FINESSEE !!

AAAAAH YOU UGLY DARK SKINNED NIGROS

The caller is sitting on a couch ass to ass with other dudes. Looking stupid.

She never saw Shantel. Who came upon her like The Ring.

She has become a party magnet. It is a Slayer concert now. Nobody knows who’s who. Though Tyco is surely getting his ass beat. He catches of glimpse of Shantel’s fat ass ducking through the doorway and he could die right now and it wouldnt matter.

*GUN SHOT*

FUCK GOIN ON HERE MANE

“This not the place for you bro. - White boy comin up here in my place of business - Tryna pop shit off like you really not a bitch”

Kawaii looks up with his glock-9 extendo at his GD party mostly all gone just like that. The poor girl is still leaking.

“She need to go to the hospital.” Her friend says.

He points the glock at his head. Despair.

“Look around before I kill you.” An invitation.

Tycho: “I sold a 4 oz today after my accounting exam. I could be GD, 74, rock                            purp. whatever it be its nothing but Respect yo. Got connects with chad and Becky nahmean dog. Could put you on to some numbers they white and they fiends. Please OG.

“How much for a zip.”

“80, gas.”

“Was that yo bitch?”

“yea”

Kawaii: You lyin to me?

“No.”

“She eat your ass?”

“Yeah and bounce on my BIG ASS DICK” Tyco says with autism.

K walks away.

T: they don't even sell Molly bruh

K is you fucken high you dummies. Beat this nigga ass. *Tyco imagines the why the fuck you lyyin vine and remembers the exact moment he realized that wasnt an original song but actually a spin off of a classic throwback jam by the 90s R&B group “Next” in their hit single “Too Close”.. He was driving home from the cafe he used to write high school essays in while smoking a menthol american spirit with the windows rolled down on a spring evening playing KISS 104.1 Atlantas classic jams. Then he realized there was a full 6 minute video of the vine on youtube. After watching it he felt gayer. Thats all it did for him.

Tycho wakes up on living room floor.Terry (random G, on couch): *Hands him note× Kawaii said he's sorry. No hard feelings ya heard dog?

Tyco: I guess thugs act on impulse. *looks at note* and don't count on a gahdamn thing you bitchass motherfuckers. Tyco walks into class with a black eye. The Professor talks about interest loans. Tyco meets Moe after class in parking lot.

*Moe: Waddup

Tyco: It's lemon og I just got in.

Moe: Bet. Those last cookies you got. Bomb dude. It had them frar mother fuckers leanin like they can't handle that purp like that nahmean.*laughs*

Tyco: I got some backwoods you wanna hotbox.

Moe: Yo I'm down.

10/24/17 thursday

____ Last night I decided not to hate myself. The look I get from them doesnt bother me. Really, its a simple sign from nature that I’m used to by now. A wrong impression can sustain the fog of memory, of which I will be seen from the lens of another dimension, with not a care in the world, an angel in disguise. Thats the crux of my life up to this point. To no longer hate myself. But appear as if I still do. The nameless place in our past with no address., one of which even a frat boy can relate to. This invisible standard that’s thrown us into the pits of despair must be addressed. To seperate the real from the fake. Like the others are sleep walking through class fronting like they dont see me. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my third eye, televising scenes of sleep walkers who stay fronting like they dont see me. Walking behind the parking deck where green dumpsters were with my phone to my ear is a feeling that remains within me until I do the same thing over again in a few days. Buying in bulk never appealed to me. And if a 20 a g was the price thered be nothing my lonely ass could do. Fuck this worthless paper, I tell myself.

I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days.

I’m signalling. Though I havent been approached yet.

Figuring that would resolve the look I give other people. I mean, christ, I turned 18 last March. And spent the Summer in a last ditch effort to secure an identity before I made my plays in college. For too long I’ve avoided the call of the light and in return have gotten blank stares.

(SOMEHOW gets wrapped up into a petty conversation with sorirty girl (on top of parking deck.)

Clarissa: I was the only one alone in the entire party.

Tycho: Why didnt you leave?

T: Dont worry I dont wanna know your major.

C; Good cus it keeps changing.

T: You think you know everything dont you? This world aint nothin babe.

C: Why do you say that?

T: What do you wanna know? That I get money? Thats nothin.

Clarissa drifts off.

Hannah: So Stacy’s telling me the banners weren’t in that right place and we’re like an hour away from starting and we still haven’t even got the chairs in order and barely anyone who was suppose to be here has shown up yet.

Tycho: Where were they?

“Well for one, Candace, I dont know whats her problem lately, but shes been gone because her best-friends now telling her she’s not rushing anymore but thats honestly a relief because that girl wheres winged eyeliner and thinks shes better than us.”

Tycho: Oh, I think I’ve seen that girl at the library or something.

     I intuit that in order to justify her reasoning for not liking the winged eyeliner girl, that she channeled my very own resonant storm cloud of which I emit silently in the face of vanity..  

H: Well you’ll probably see her there a lot more cus shes definitely not with us.

“Okay so thats one.” I say as if taking notes.

“Then Rachel’s out at some charity event that I never even heard of probably with a guy she’s not telling us about which is so frustrating that of all days you pick friday night at the peak of rush to go be a hoe behind our backs.”

“Did she ever show up to the party?”

“Yeah. And she was fucking drunk.” She said as if surprised but not really because this is Rachel we’re talking about, after all.

“Like wasted orrr “

“Damn I didnt know yall got down like that.”

“Umm when youre stumbling through the door and your first words to all the new girls is hallelujah bitches!

She wasn’t with a guy.

“So tell me more about the party. Like was there”

who nobody knows anyway

is that Cheyenne is just out of it because her friends now telling her she doesnt want to rush anymore and for one its like look,

Wait, who’s hannah?

Hannah’s the leader of her sorority.

Ooooh, Okay, I see why now

-Yeah, I mean if word got around that would literally mean she was going around their backs to cover up that she was lying.

> Right. Yeah I hear what you sayin. She’s trying to make it seem as if it never concerned yall in the first place but if thats the case then she dont need to be acting like she got the right to be trusted.

This goes beyond reputation. Manipulating emotions just cus she has none of her own. Conniving biitch.  just to get her way goes beyond reputation.

Aint nobody wanna be around that energy.

> So what you tell her?

I get schizophrenic when it comes accepting new ways of being. The person I made him out to be was the perfect cure for my suffering. All those forgetful nights of boredom I knew what I needed all along, but was to scared to do it myself.

------ Frat house halloween party kidnap scene ----

GD shaman prays to shango for power to go out by mantra. Squad in car repeats the same mantra. The power goes out at 1:00 (or peak of the party).

Tycho throws blue flare through the side of the window

at the Tycho must find Chad and lure him downstairs near the door so the squad can get the keys to the room full cocaine and adderal. After looking everwhere he’s no where to be found. He walks in on a couple having with the girl in missionary with devil ears. “Yo chad that you?” Its

(fuckem x3) Music stops from power so he sneaks in wireless speaker in his robot costume  and puts it at one end of the room. Squad member 1 will carry bigger wireless speaker and set it down when he storms in. Tycho also brings a timed strobe light to distract people and keep the illusion of the party still going.

Tycho runs down stairs and towards door with chad chasing him. Squad slaps tape and mask on him and carries like a battering ram although theyve already kicked the door.

*Power turns back on*

“Fuck em, fuck em, nigga get out my section

Don’t want to see him, I don’t want to touch him

*waves zippo lighter in front of face so chad can see him through mask*

“Ima count 3 seconds and your dead on 5 if i dont get this combination” says calmly. thus saiyth the lord thy god”

“Three... No mercy”

“Two.. Shall be given unto those”

*gives code*

          “One.”

Love takes many shapes and forms.Tycho never opened up to people, hating himself for being incapable of feeling what others felt. He wanted more so he went spiritual. Which his close friends perceived as going off the deep end."Ayy whatsup bro you tryna smoke?""I have a calc exam tomorrow but I'm down after."Aight good luck on your studying tonight and then kill it tomorrow I know you got this calc is your specialty can't say the same for me but that's why you always tutored me haha."Let me know if you need more help. Figuring their was no bounds and he could be whatever, even silent, and experience irony rather than fate. How bland, he thought, to have a life plan and nothing to look forward to. Running drugs would be a necessary chain reaction. The highest elixer exceeding the bliss provided by the very weight he'd be pushing, itd be getting off on defying his own life, leaving spirit his only option. And so like a blackbird his soul seeks experience only in the clearest degree of visibility. Swerving transgressions of lonliness to levy the burdens of contrived responsibilities at societies every turn until his flight patterns veer from the trodden path to and fro the calling of reality in which he desires to preside over as a God of many statures. Untainted by works, head first into the entity of the adversary, of which he is able to predict the situational consequence in only a glimpsing moment before havoc ensues and the final hour is upon him, his loose wings coated with astral charcoal of depravity. Be caught slipping once and he loses the jump until the enevitable program takes its course - an unstoppable relationship between fate and reckoning that must be fulfilled as day turns to night. Once that happens he reverts back to being like the rest of them. Yet to the world, now desolated beyond repair, hed still be alive, exuding a calm presence that something is not quite right with him existing without remorse. The truth is simple enough, a hint just ever so slight as to never be able to cross the threshold of utterance, thus becoming rendered a convinction of self delusion on the part of the unknowing accuser, who by this time hates himself for even thinking badly of such a good guy to make peace with.  The collage curtails past the illusion of what is already known and at last the watchers take notice and thus regeneration is able to take place along all the land, allowing for new energy to take the throne of anticipation. One that has harnessed the potential to become anything the wonder puts his mind too. So what if I'm imaginative? Yolandra: I mean everyone's different in their own way. Like yeah the soroitys have a dress code and all that Starbucks and capris. But I don't know. You just have to get know a person for who they are and not how the outside world perceives them to be. T: So what'd you first think of me? Yolandra: Honestly not much anything. You were one of those people who could be anything. But then I overheard you say taurus's are gold diggers and I hated you cus I'm a taurus. T: Oh sorry I really didn't mean it like that but c'mon now I can tell you have a taste for finer things you bougie little.. Boob. *laugh\ haha "you know what I mean" It doesn't bother you? What? That so much could go wrong so quickly? Look, deep down he's telling you his heart lies with getting over and you let him because that's /just what you like about him, how deep he gets. cus he's a sad and selfish individual who was never about loving anything other than vanity. The best thing to do would be to trust his actions, intentions aren't what's important right now. Really, forget about the soul connection. Loves comes through all types of people as long as you're open to receiving them. Those energies. Don't lose yourself in the illusion. Without ever taking credit for what truly matters which should be you. Then your fashion made sense to me. T:  I'm so caught up in myself. I mean, it's impossible to know anything else. I'll never get to stand in your shoes. Its just truth. Yet I'm the bad guy. You're not like the other people I've met. T: Yeah I'm kind of loner if you couldn't tell already. I guess that's a good thing.T: Hey it's okay. I get that a lot... Wait what do you mean you guess? Ive found that who evers saying does a 180 in their normalcy.  Knowing your even here right now is a good thing. Knowing that you're with me even when im not. Don't you think? Starting out with confidence and ending strong to be lucky if I'm not hurt. Tell me what you want out of this. Sometimes I feel so lame, then I realize how fun itd be to not care. Through the window screen i see parchments and grass blades, this is an image I've sought to ignore for its blandness thinking I was over recognizing such mundane structures. The sunlight made me drunk with non verbal contemplation. I crave this heat when I'm in low spirits. And a breeze when I'm high. My thoughts are channeled from a lonely place (My thoughts come from a lonely place)  I've had no choice but to become accustomed to for my own sanity. To work faster and breach that veil of reckonning. So unreachable and enticing at the same time.T When I'm alone, welcome something more than the past if you ever cared to help me. This isn't the only world out there. And even if it was the material would eventually reach infinity. Then a black hole would open or something. Don't quote me on that, science is the hottest thing going right now. It cant hurt to butt in unofficially. As long as no one calls you on it. The universe molds to your confidence. That's another story. At the end of the day, I have too much pride to be a scientist.  The God they're serving calls for a lot of self sacrifice. A self that ignores emergency when called to speak. A self i'm not prepared to lose. "Why are you here again, nothing will change, you're gonna be quiet like last time" any handle on reality I had during the sun rise flees like an ex girlfriend into the night. I'm not prepared to lose. Anxiety is that humid feeling you get when roughnecking the time away. Jaded peripherals, internet browsing, and fading friends initiate a color spectrum so cruelly vivid in its inability to be shared with the CVS cashier who looked at you wrong because you bought 3 4oz bottles of robitussin. A man who couldnt care to see the streets, stop signs, and traffic lights. Man is a slang term we use when caught in the moment. Of which matrix programming loves to grasp onto. --- 10/25/17 wednesday So here I am enjoying a piece of lackluster nothing for the sake of something I've agreed to experience in a past life I can't even remember but somehow must make amends to as if its an actual concrete thing I can touch and make sense out of without caring to ponder how life puts us in these type situations like getting your hair done a new way and meeting a friend of a friend superficially without ever following up like aight word up bro I feel you by the way hows life and what's the special fact I should become one with in this moment while not thinking too much in to things or else id be alone as if we're not alive under the stars for any other reason than to be happy but still to me that becomes too much like a flash in time rather than something meaningful because then sex would have to be our purpose for being here but you and I both know it's more complicated than that so we look into it via memories and realize the journey was brighter than the reward as in I don't remember the actual sex part but rather the day as a whole with stained glass sprinkled in on a film reel to push the past into something real and unexplainably alluring to the self of which we projected this light onto in order to perhaps know in advance maybe how to repeat this metaphysical phenomenon for a second time because we're not quite there yet although at this rate if seems that to finally reach a state of thereness would mean we wouldn't be able to be here right now having this conversation like a building block struck from below or a house of cards we have to keep faith that every moment plays its part because we had an emotion for it and therefore couldn't be rendered to nothing in a wreckless attempt force it all together rather let each tile compliment it's neighbor and bypass the need for destruction by allowing enough caring energy to flow through that filter mechanism within you that deems lifes moments as worth remembering or forgetting and pretend you never heard about forgetting and avoid it like the plague because everything that ever was is depending on you to go forth into righteous so that gods original intention for letting go of unwanted baggage be synthesized within your vessel of upgrades intelligence so that the journey can still be appreciated only this time without th deceptive veil of the end. to question the little things that somehow don't mean much but at the same time appear to us daily as conduits for good fortune and thats what we must uphold ___ 11/2/17 thursday

I you and me playcated on a surface of stones that match our longing to search in the wrong places. Convenient are we done such a conceivable time that is time which is also time because what more can be said other than us winding down a fire escape to an inexplicable hatch sitting like paper mache on our transformative spiritual natures. Gone already but not forgotten just make sure to take the negative side of every situation involving 1 or more parties so as to make sure the rythym is in order because you can't go wrong with challenging the status quo of an area you're not suppose to be in even if that seems too easy and superficial it's the right choice because even the idea of rebellion as a bad thing must be able to project into a physical thing prompt for examination so secrets may be revealed. Wouldn't you know i stopped believing in faith due to its redundancy of chasing metaphysical strings too far out for us to put into words and isn't that the source of all our angst. Depraved of propositional phrases and elemental tables it's all so clear to me now. Casandra had a bag and Mikey had his sneakers in the forefront like a low hanging fruit but of course they had personalities that weren't so easy to see unless the hard work of interfacing came into the equation. Lets judge people based on judging for the sake of basing ourselves onto something not within our realm of reality. Perception is a hard question i think maybe inanimate objects could tell us a thing or two. Low pressure sodium lamps.Documentorial lecture hall amps failing to reach the end of the pyramid turned 90 degrees away from its focal point. May disease not reach our unexplainable selves if ever they may inhabit our temporary vessels like a friend who has no friends but you and wants desperately to get along with others but is attached to your ways. Are we in hell? What can our astral travels tell us about signaling locations with Etheric marks of time dialation. Things are what they are by defintion or they wouldn t be things however stepping the observer up a notch sets in motion cancer to grow from the singular notion that we ourselves separate on a cost of lightening our load. I am partly responsible for this mess we have made. Pulling my hair out in thin strands so as to not make a difference. Some people just don't understand what it means to be so far gone yet in a place of enchantment that lets us know we're not alone as Michael Jackson plays on the ham radio and Wikipedia says the song was written by r kelly. I'm a solitary young man, joined at the seams complacency and red-ridden vanishing points to a line of sight I'd rather not identify with if I had a choice. I'm seriously considering becoming rich and famous despite others already forcing me to. I guess eventually my spirit will give in as my soul looks from a distance and says what a fool I am then goes about his day. You can't be like the rest of them no matter how hard you try. Thinking on the sensualities you avoided after this rap shit led you no where. The palace at the height of creation where Jesus stopped and stared to collect his thoughts before he kept going when his alarm rang as his slave bending consistency tracked the new melinnia into a moldy piece of sandstone cheese the better of which tasted nutty with fruity notes and 80% abv shards of liquid glass on the throat thatd make even an immortal weep a shy tear or two. The pigs down in Mississippi feel things we can't understand in their slaughterhouse decrepit and forwarned in a musk ridden air flow that's non existent to hypocritical angels who were supposed to stop atrocity but opted to sit on their ads and play virtua tennis all day. Oink says the pig. Hee haw says the donkey. Give me life says the God and there on the 30th night fags came to tell the story on their faces. The bag lady told them to shut up and stop whining but they wouldn't listen though they lost their ability to speak. Goodness gracious me oh my great balls of fire. Great balls of ball you are the Lord of my lonely century in this dimension I took awareness to when I allowed you into my heart space.And then I left asking my self: Who is this I?

755559888a

Let’s stand for a while and think about the dastardly ways we have gone under the waters and flew away from temptation. Have us saying isnt it so pretty to be in something and have that to fall back on due to the struggles of forgetting the place we come from which didnt always have it out for us this bad in refusing us of inconjunctions we can at least point to and blame our problems on saying “See! There, I told you so. That’s why we cant find our beginning!” And we’ll keep toilling the fields as halflings saving up for a chance to leave the very universe we serve. “So thats more like it. Finally something I can get my flows on to” Shelly the alien said. “The Stars dont have to like you just because you see them. They have their place and so do we” Gerald said. “Oh but they do.” “How do you know?” “Well for one they always shine bright at the most oppurtune times, like when I’m feeling down about the part of myself that conveinently seems to escape me just when I need it most. If that be so then put me on to something else and that’ll do just fine.” “Perhaps you're not as big as you thought ”  Gerald held up his hand to salvage what was left of the dissolving psychic barrier between them. An invisible giant with an ocd issue. For now he could only listen. “No im not here to choose and thats exactly why Im not afraid to go where you can’t. Having the courage to admit your wrongs requires as much energy as universal rotation itself - a force which exists beyond our pleaidien awareness. ” “ But Shel- Okay whatever” Gerald paused and rolled the horizon through his scaly fingertips. “Keep calling on the unknown and you might get lost because it’s been there forever and sometimes Look, Shelly, no offense, you know I love you, but your awareness has no filter on what representation it can cling onto like danger isnt a reality to you. Me and Dazel always had to look out for you and thats just in this world what makes you think you can take on things you cant even see? “But do you believe in me? Anyone can say they love me. I’ve been hearing that my whole life. So much that it holds the same meaning as “um” does in conversation. Is that really the final conclusion we have at the end of the day? That you love me? Besides, I dont think you really meant that.”

“Here goes Miss Type-1 personality again. Always needing to label circles into squares, stars into gods, this as that, out of an inability to cope with insecurity. Leaving the rest of us as unwilling participants.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S WRONG IN NATURE?”  Shelly bawled.  

The beach of Temofose was out of walking distance from the orange cottage they grew up in with there Mom. When they were young it was somewhere theyd go when they had nothing else to do. Euweu Sister Beach was the brighter of the two, but now too populated for their liking. Temofose is less frequented by other families and polluted by cargo ships and a lack of open views but as they stood there a semblence of twilight through the holographic cages offered closure to the purpose of them arguing in the elements about a timeline Shelly was going to step into  And no matter what argument he could put forth, Gerald thought of it fruitless unless he spoke from his heart, a heart of which Shelly was currently taking the place of, so that he could not use it against her. “Shelly, I just hope you can understand how I dont want to let you go.” “I’m sorry you feel that way. But it’s my choice. Have a good njght Gerald. I love you” She said as she went into darkness.

Summer Break 2018

As a street light exploring strip malls, I am a linoleum tile on top of a trapezoid emitting frames of rave scenes. Heres where I find myself walking through last nights dream of the gang member selling duck pussy then getting assaulted by a pizza guy and a cop. Alone after those nights. Seems love was never meant to be expressed but felt. I look inside to see if I’m about to die, seeing diamonds mixed with sky. Materializing in the backdrop of my memories. Now I know why.

Now I know.

Then a wren on the fence manifests when it needs to. The perspective pyramid is that I pleaded for a higher calling. There’s nobody bohemian as me.  One day I’ll take this civic off the road and escape into my sacred grove. If only I wasnt such a bitch.

I carry my single briefcase through the airport parking lot. I’m hot and out of breath. Everyone watching me. I can read their thoughts but not my own. They say look at the guy who isnt me but is still conscious enough to move his vessel.

The a/c runs down to the end of the terminal, but my spirit is squared by the stores selling vain material. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my mind’s eye televises scenes too chaotic to put into words. Walking through customs is an event to be remembered, I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days. I board the flight to say finally I am my own religion. If I was flying over africa I’d see bon fires, but over Georgia I only see street lights. Thinking how absurd that they will speak of me as crazy. Others will listen. A vibration through these amber aisles to look no further than my destiny. Because everyone has their destination is the way it goes. I refuse. I’m tired of being a number. Atlanta had its place. Now I’m homeless in Tokyo. This is the not-so perfect end to the chapter planned out for me by the higher power. Not-so bad neither.

Save me. I’m on the other side now.

[thesummerfox]

Imagine: Ward and Trish's daughter dating Danny and Colleen's son.

What on earth are you doing to poor Ward, oh my god?! xD (I just wrote you a little something, haha, hope you enjoy!!)

Imagine..

It’s already bad enough that he can’t get out of monthly dinners with the Rand family. (Nor can he escape the inevitable fiasco that is Colleen, Misty, Claire, Karen, and Marci camping out on his living room floor twice a month for reasons only his wife seems to fathom. He is not too proud to admit that he flees from it and winds up parked on Jeri Hogarth’s couch half the time.) 

Danny is a different man these days. Owns half a dozen dojos all around the city. Does some kind of ninja crap alongside far more sensible Luke, still, though the need for the Iron Fist has diminished. He’s fine with Danny now, after the years and two unstoppable wives mellowed the strain on the relationship considerably. Danny’s not the problem that’s making Ward dread these Sunday dinners. His business partner on paper (never in practice, thank you sweet baby Jesus) has done one particular thing that Ward previously deemed impossible: he has gotten a son with Colleen, and that son is insufferable. 

“If that cocky little brat side-eyes the curtains again and mentions how ‘quaint’ our home is, I am going to throw him out the window,” he says, already tired before the evening has yet to start. “Same if he starts complaining about how you never make anything but vegan dishes.”

Trish hums noncommittally. “Blue or red?” she asks, holding up two scarves. He gestures at the red half-heartedly, still pondering how on earth ray-of-sunshine Danny and down-to-earth Colleen spawned Satan’s child. His wife frowns as she wraps the scarf around her neck. “Will you please, please just let it go? Tim isn’t that bad.”

“Timmy,” drawls Ward, with all the loathing he can possibly reserve for a seventeen-year-old nightmare, “is on Claire’s shitlist. Do you know how long that list is? It only features three things: Timmy, Luke’s socks, and Matt’s annual Catholic guilt-trip.” He holds up three fingers just to emphasize the point, which earns him an eyeroll and a sigh that verges on disappointed. Fine. Trish refuses to acknowledge that there are parallels between Timmy and the entire plot of horror movies that feature scary children, but Ward knows better than that. He’s not fooled. “When he was five, he set fire to my laptop. When he was ten, he crashed my car. Last year, remember last year? He thought it would be cool to steal a–” 

Excited squealing interrupts the rant Ward so carefully prepared. “They’re here they’re heeeeere they’re heeeeheeeeheeeeeere! Mooooom! Daaaaaaad!” 

If there is one thing he would change about his teenage daughter, it would be her ability to reach a pitch in her tone that only dolphins and dog whistles can emulate. (That, and the fact that she is growing up so fast that Ward feels a new grey hair take root every time he looks at her.) 

“Lee, tone it down a bit!” he yells, hearing her carry on the high-pitched garbled noises just outside the door. “I can’t hear myself think!” 

“What? Dad, I can’t hear you!”

Ward groans in reply. Walks to the door, opens it, and steps out into the hallway. Almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. 

Danny’s the first to lay eyes on him. Colleen follows suit, worried frown mimicking her husband’s horrified stare. The only two people in this hallway who don’t seem to notice him standing there are the exact people that Ward now wishes he had kept hundreds of miles apart from childhood onward. (Scratch that. He’s going to kick Timmy all the way to the fucking moon. Just you wait.)

“I tried to tell you,” says Danny hurriedly, as if that makes what Ward is seeing any less bad. “Last week, when I went to pick them up from the movie theatre.. this greeted me too. I already yelled at Tim about it.”

“I am done yelling,” says Ward quietly. “Dinner’s not going to happen.”

“What?” His daughter, his baby girl, untangles herself from the Antichrist with some effort. “Dad, you can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” he snarls. Tries not to look at Timmy. Problematic, on-Claire’s-list Timmy. Dangerous, adventurous, devil-may-care Timmy. Timmy, whose hand now rests on his daughter’s waist. Timmy, whose lips were on his daughter’s lips not ten seconds ago. Fucking. Timmy. Ward lets out an angry hiss. “Jubilee,” he says, feeling suddenly tired and very very old, “this is not happening.”

“Yes, dad, it is.” Lee, of course, draws herself up to her full height and squares her shoulders the way she’s seen Trish do a million times. Flips her dark blonde hair over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow imperiously. She’s just like her mother, and Ward’s resolve almost crumbles. Almost. But then: “Tim and I are dating. Nothing you can do about it.”

“You’re sixteen!” he sputters. “Sixteen! You’re not dating anyone. Least of all..” He gestures into Timmy’s direction spitefully. Snarls out a warning. “Don’t you fucking dare smirk at me, kid, because I will throw you out of this house and I will make your life a living hell.”

Colleen is not impressed. “You know, you and Danny have more in common than you think.” The dragon’s daughter shakes her head and looks between her husband and Ward. “He threatened to, what was it, put Tim through fire trials? Something like that.” 

“Well, good,” huffs Ward. That earns him a half-smile from Danny. “I approve.”

“I don’t,” says his wife, having walked out of their room and come to stand beside Ward. Trish’s eyes are more steel than softness when he sneaks a glance at her. “Hi, Tim. Jubi, I thought you would find a more.. tactical way to tell dad?”

“You knew?”

Trish raises her hands as Ward rounds on her incredulously. “I caught them kissing on the couch two weeks ago. Knew you’d have a conniption about it, so I called Colleen instead.” Her gaze hardens even further. “Need I remind you what you were like at seventeen, Ward? Do I really need to go that far? Or can we actually go have the dinner I put together, and try to find a way to deal with our kids dating each other?”

“They’re not dating,” comment Ward and Danny simultaneously.

Colleen sighs. “Oh boy.”

“You know what, why don’t the four of us have dinner? Jubi, Tim, please go to Marci’s.. do not bother going anywhere else, because I will know. Eyes in the back of my head, remember?” Ward decides he still loves his wife more than air when she fixes Timmy with a look that could curdle milk. “We’ll deal with this for now. Just go.”

“We don’t need to deal with something that’s not happening,” mutters Danny. 

Ward thinks the world may be ending, because he finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly with Danny for the very first time in his life. He squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m going to break out the scotch,” he decides out loud, not caring that it meets resistance in both wives. “Danny, you want some?”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, dad,” pipes up Jubilee, right before she walks out the door. Throws him a half-smile to boot. “I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

He’s not going to get used to this. He’s not. 

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: Opposites Attract.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Peter Maximoff x Reader Request: * Could I request a little one shot with Peter Maximoff? Something to do with Peter and his partner being total opposites; he being the mischievous and sarcastic one and the other being a sweet and totally selfless! And maybe everyone questions their relationship so Peter gets quite self-conscious and starts worrying! The reader's powers could be like chlorokinesis, that would be awesome! If not, dw: your writing is amazing tho! Please carry on 🌸 Ability: Chlorokinesis-Ability to control, manipulate or generate plants. 

Note: Enjoy?

    To say Peter was hyperactive would probably be an understatement. For as long as you had known him he was always bouncing off the walls with energy, constantly wanting to move about, and when he wasn't, he'd twitch. You, on the other hand, were more content with laying down all day staring up at the ceiling while soft music played from the record player.

    There were times when you lost yourself in the song that you'd open your eyes to vines curling up the walls, twisted around the frame of the bed, small tiny flowers sprouting from the walls and window, it would take a while for you to get them under control and have them seep back into themselves before vanishing. The first time Peter had walked in on you taking a nap, he had been caught up in the growing vines, pinning him to the wall. By the time you woke up you could just about see his face and outstretched arm grabbing the air at you.

    The amount of apologises that you gave were completely lost to Peter when he saw you picking up the large thick vines covered in moss, talking to yourself and the plants like an embarrassed mother would to their child. The plants seemed to have a mind of their own when around you, circling around your waist, clinging onto you as you picked them up, talking to them. He wasn't paying attention to anything but yourself, even after you made the vines drop him from the wall and his body fell in a heap. Peter watched as you pushed open your window, sending the plants to crawl up the walls outside, decorating over half of the outside mansion wall.

    "Sorry about that, they tend to get excited," you'd murmur like they were, in fact, your children, misbehaving at a shop while you would apologise to the other shoppers.

    Ever since that day, Peter had been almost completely enamoured by you and your ability, at how caring and nurturing you were, not only to your plants but to the other mutants at the school. He found out that you helped Charles out in the office, occasionally looking through files to see when the birthdays of the mutants were to send small flowers their way. It brought a smile to his face when you were with him and some of the younger students nervously came up to you to ask if you could create flowers for their friends or significant other on Valentine's Day—which became a tradition for you. If one of the students didn't have a Valentines, you specifically make them a large bouquet of flowers for them so they didn't feel left out.

    Charles had asked you, personally, to tend to the gardens around the mansion, which you were more than happy to do. During your break, you wandered over to Peter, who was underneath a tree with Scott, Jean, Jubilee, Kurt, and Ororo. Peter automatically smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you sat down.

    "Hey, babe," Peter greeted you, kissing your cheek.

    "Hi," you replied quietly, smiling shyly to yourself.

    "How are the kids?"

    "What? What kids?" Scott looked over to the two of you, interrupting his conversation with Kurt.

    You rolled your eyes as Peter grinned. "He means my plants."

    "Oh." Scott laughed to himself. "Why do you call them kids?" His attention turned to Peter.

    Peter sat back, removing his arm from your shoulder to lay behind himself. "I snuck up on her when she was in the garden once—"

    "Oh god," you groaned.

    "I thought it would be funny to scare her, I've done it before and the plants shoot up from the ground and tangle around her. So, I snuck up behind her, I screamed and, I guess, her reflex was to turn around, insanely fast might I add for someone who doesn't have super speed, and karate chop me in the neck yelling to leave her children alone and that she'd sue for damages," he finished, laughing loudly.

    "In my defence, it was night-time, I was half asleep and you said you were going home an hour before."

    "What if I had been Charles?"

    "For starters, Charles wouldn't scream like a little girl who cut her own hair for the first time expecting a different result as her hair fell onto her lap and she was left with a bald patch—"

    "That's so accurate," Jubilee commented pointing to Peter. "You do scream like that."

    "Shut up," he mumbled to her. "I have a manly scream."

    "Yeah, if that man sucked a load of helium." Jubilee crossed her arms.

    "Anyway," you stressed. "Charles is in a wheelchair, he's not as tall as you. If it was him I would have hit the air, not his neck."

    "Okay, I see your point." Peter nodded as he laid back completely on the grass.

    "You said you wouldn't bring it up," you mumbled as you laid next to him.

    "I'm sorry, but it was cute, you know I haven't done anything like that since."

    "I know, thank you." You smiled softly. "I love you." You pressed a kiss to his lips, hearing him mumble it back before you sat back up. Ororo had a smirk on her face when you looked back over to the group. "What?" You asked nervously.

    "Ask Peter, he's the one with the flowers in his hair."

    "What?" You turned back to face him, your cheeks heating up as you noticed the bright tiny flowers tangled in his silver hair. "Oh, sorry about that. I forget that happens."

    Peter shrugged, picking them out of his hair as you stood up. "Going back to work?" You hummed with a nod in response. "Okay, see you later."

    "Bye guys." You waved to them before walking off.

    Peter continued to watch you leave, into the garden covered by the tall hedges, until he couldn't see you anymore. He sat up, turning back to the group, brushing the grass from his jacket.

    "How are you two still dating?" Ororo asked, chuckling as she shook her head, leaning back against the large tree.

    "What do you mean?"

    "Well, for starters, you're always pulling pranks, even going to the extent of lying to them saying you aren't."

    Peter shrugs. "That's not really a starter."

    "Okay, well, you know they don't like it when you lie to them." She pointed at him.

    "It's not a big lie."

    Kurt cleared his throat. "You don't always answer them honestly when they ask for your opinion or help, you know that frustrates them, especially when they don't realise that you're doing it."

    "They find it funny afterward," he defended himself.

    "No, not all the time." Jean shook her head.

    "Yeah, Peter. Who knows, maybe they'll realise that they are better off without the constant sneak attacks and whiplashes." Scott shrugged. "Just sayin'."

    Peter didn't respond, he simply nodded his head with a blank look on his face getting up. "I'm going to get some Twinkies."

-

    Later that day, Peter didn't go looking for you, which was odd. Instead, you turned off your record and went looking for him. It took almost an hour to find him before you saw his silver hair zipping back and forth in the danger room. He seemed rather nervous, for a better lack of words. Peter didn't notice you walk in, or even the fact that you created a chair out of vines to sit and watch him. His body blurred back and forth, creating a headache to form over your temples.

    "Pete." You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

    He didn't seem to hear you, so you spoke louder.

    "Pete."

    Again, there was nothing.

    "Peter!"

    He stopped, letting out a puff of hair as he clapped his hands together, looking anywhere but your face, running his hands through his hair as he removed his goggles from his face.

    "Why are you down here?"

    "I just wanted to do some running." He shrugged.

    "You're not looking at me," you noted. "Have I done something wrong?"

    "No...Maybe..."

    "Peter," you spoke softly, getting up from the chair. Peter glanced over and watched as it shrunk into itself, leaving behind an indent in the ground from where the roots dug in. "Please talk to me."

    "You deserve better." He stepped back, away from you, as you stepped closer.

    You paused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

    "You deserve someone who is good for you."

    "Why are you saying this?"

    "The others—"

    "Shouldn't get a say in our relationship. Are you seriously going to let them dictate what we have between us?"

    "What do we have between us?"

    "I was hoping for a healthy relationship based on trust and mutual respect for one another."

    "You shouldn't trust me."

    "Don't you dare tell me what I should do," you argued. You didn't usually talk to him like that, he didn't know how he should respond, he didn't like it.

    "I'm sorry." He shook his head.

    "Are they bothering you?"

    "I can handle it."

    "Apparently you can't." He looked at you sadly. "Peter, I know when I should walk away from something that isn't good for me. Have I done that with us? No. No, I have not. You know why?" He shook his head. "Because I know you wouldn't hurt me. Not intentionally. You would never be malicious towards me or my feelings towards you."

    "I'm not a good person."

    "Says who? Scott? Jean? Jubilee? Kurt? Ororo?" You took another step closer to him, this time he didn't move away. "Or are you saying this?"

    He opened his mouth. "I just want you to be happy."

    "You make me happy? Can't that be enough? Can't people see that? Why do they have to mess with that?" You were now standing in front of him.

    "What if you realise you're better off without me?"

    "Never. Because that's impossible." You cupped his cheeks, making him look at you. "How long have you known me?"

    Peter sighed. "Almost three years."

    You hummed. "I've never been happier than I have in those three years of knowing you. Please don't throw us away. Don't listen to anyone but yourself when it comes to our relationship. They don't see everything that we do, they don't know what we have between us." You shook your head. "Don't let them think that they do. Okay?"

    "Okay," he nodded with a hushed whisper.

    "Good," you concluded. "I love you."

    "I love you too."

    "I'd hope so." You smiled, bringing his lips closer to yours, pressing a kiss to his lips as your eyes closed.

    His hands gently wrapped around your waist as the thick vines began to sprout around the two of you, climbing up the walls of the danger room, weaving in and out of the panelled walls, twisting around the light fixtures, hanging from the ceiling in thick branches and blooming flowers that covered large patches of the ground. The smaller vines wrapped around both of your bodies as you pulled apart. The room was almost completely submerged in greenery and some small fire fires hovered around in the air.

    You looked over to Peter with a shy smile, there were flowers tangled in his hair. "Sorry about that. I forget that happens."

    Peter grinned looking down at you, chuckling as he shook his head.

[h-eckers]

After Ice

A/N: I was really bitter that everyone just left Cheryl to go to the jubilee while she was still shaking from a suicide attempt, I also just want her to have someone to love and protect her because she deserves it u kno? 

Summary: Maybe everyone else left for the jubilee but that hasn't ever been Y/N’s thing. Nothing is more important than Cheryl when it comes to her. 

Word Count: 2,890

Warnings: Mentions of a suicide attempt, Cheryl finally getting the love she deserves. 

The room was laced with a chill, an unshakable, immoveable ice in the air that hung like pain on a broken heart even as she sat alone in front of the Lodge's fire, staring into the flames with tears rolling softly down her frozen cheeks.

Everything went wrong.

The door opened slowly, quietly and yet Cheryl heard it and ignored it as though nothing had happened. It would be Veronica or Hermione, forgetting something for the jubilee that the redhead was eternally grateful not to attend. "Hey, Cher bear." A gentle voice came, still from the door way and Cheryl's eyes finally drifted in tired stupor to the girl caught in the door frame. She said nothing, eyes flicking to the floor at the other girls feet, she wouldn't be ashamed in front of anyone else, but she wasn't anyone else. "I would ask if you're okay but I guess not." Y/N mumbled, wandering hesitantly over as the Blossom's attention turned back to the fire before her.

"Veronica told you." It wasn't a question so much as it was a confirmation, but Y/N shook her head as she sat beside the redhead on the floor, trying to find whatever in the flames Cheryl found so fascinating with her own eyes, even though she already knew that the flames we're a simple escape for Cheryl's gaze, a gaze not ready to meet her own.

"No. No one had to tell me, and I knew where you'd be." It was simple, and it was enough. The freezing girl shook with a single sob, iced lashes beating like hummingbird wings in a desperate and futile attempt to force away years of pain that may come rolling down her porcelain cheeks should she let it.

"I'm so sorry. I tried." She finally whispered, her voice a fractured echo of what it once was. It broke Y/N's heart like thin ice splintering under the weight of a tired girl trying to escape into the darkness.

"God, no, don't apologise to me. You don't have to apologise, Cher Bear, never." The other girl shuffled to her side, wrapping her arms tenderly around the fragile flower, drowned in ice and sorrow. Cheryl leaned into her instantly, instinctively, intuitively. The comfort was unmistakable and the warmth of their understanding was enough to begin to shake the cold from her bones. "It's okay Cheryl, I'm just so glad you're still here. That's all that matters to me."

"I'm scared, Y/N." She whimpered, clinging to the other girl’s leather jacket with everything she had left in her rigid fingers. "Everything... Went wrong somewhere, and ever since it's like being caught in a landslide. I keep getting dragged down, and dragged down, and every time I think I've got my footing again, something hits me from behind. I'm sick of falling." 

"I know, baby, I know." The older girl held back tears of her own, strength was her virtue but Cheryl was her weakness, the Blossom's roots woven into her chest like arteries. "You are strong, though, my precious Cherry Blossom. So much stronger than you realise now." She whispered, her laboured heart hidden with softness of tone, refusing to risk the words cracking as they left her lips.  Cheryl shook with each pained sob that overtook her, every word her lover spoke striking guilt, and pain, and unimaginable relief that she wasn't alone.

"I didn't call you, because I knew I'd look at you and I wouldn't be able to leave, but I wanted you to be free of me and all the horror I've brought with my family." She wept, into Y/N's jacket, and Y/N sat with Cheryl safely in her arms, rocking her carefully and rubbing calming circles into her back in the hopes of also warming the frigid flesh on her bones. 

"I wouldn't want to free myself of you, even if I was offered everything in the world." She hummed softly, "I love you, more than I have ever, or will ever love, anyone else. It will be alright, I promise you, we can get through this, and at the end I'll still be by your side."

Cheryl nodded carefully, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to clear them, Y/N moved to stand up, gently guiding Cheryl to her feet as well, pulling the blanket tightly around her body to trap in what little heat she'd retained from the Lodge's fire. "Where are we going?"

"No one else is here, right?" Y/N asked quietly, brushing Cheryl's hair back carefully behind her ear, Cheryl shook her head slowly and the older girl smiled at the redhead, "Then I'm going to run you a bath, and you're going to get warm and clean while I find some towels in this damn apartment."

"I don't have any clothes." It was the first time a smile had crept across her face in a while and it made Y/N's heart warm with relief. 

"Veronica won't mind if you borrow something, I'm sure." She shrugged, gently kissing the others forehead and wandering in the direction she assumed would lead to the bathroom, Cheryl didn't redirect her so Y/N assumed she was going the right way, or her girlfriend was just as clueless.

Either way, despite the fact that she had never even been close enough to get a good look at a place this nice, thankfully it wasn't too expansive and it was relatively easy to locate the bathroom. Cheryl sat carefully on the edge of the tub and watched Y/N shrug off her jacket, toss it to the side, and begin trying to operate the bath, giggling softly at her misunderstanding or taps that weren't plastic, for longer than she should have before reaching across to help. Smiling gently at the girl knelt on the floor, looking bewildered at how simple it was, "Look, Cheryl, why can't rich people have normal taps?" She huffed, with a tired smile and Cheryl rolled her eyes, leaning down to kiss the other girl’s forehead. "Jesus, your lips are frozen." The redhead nodded slowly, and Y/N stood up as the bath started to fill and the steam warmed the room. 

Y/N dug through the cabinets near the sink looking for something Cheryl couldn't distinguish from her position. "What are you looking for?"

"Something fruity, or flowery." She muttered, screwing up her nose slightly as she rummaged through countless goos and potions, "Like this one," She nodded resolutely, reading over the label, "I don't know what it is but it says 'bath' in big bold letters and pomegranate and hibiscus sounds fancy."

"It's bath salts." Cheryl chuckled softly, standing uneasily to take the container from Y/N's hands. 

"Like the drug?" Y/N's eyes widened marginally and Cheryl laughed, actually laughed for what Y/N could assume was the first time in quite a while.

"No, they're soaking salts. They go in the water, they dissolve and they smell nice. It's meant to make your skin soft." She explained as the other girl nodded along, the confusion in her face dissipating slowly. 

"Oh, okay... I feel like I should have figured that out." Y/N chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her neck and Cheryl shrugged as she sprinkled some of the salts into the water delicately, resealing the container and putting it on the basin.

"Not really, it's not as though you've had excessive contact with claw foot tubs and store bought spa treatments." She hummed, smiling softly towards her girlfriend.

"Yeah, the trailer really only has the shower." Y/N nodded in agreement, Cheryl shrugged off her blanket and started peeling off her frozen layers, "Do you need a hand, love?" She moved over to Cheryl as she nodded, helping her unbutton the front of her dress, the Blossom's shaking fingers we're fumbling hopeless through the task anyway.

Y/N helped the other girl carefully strip away her layers, trying to be as cautious as possible with her, and in all honesty it was an odd change of pace for them. Usually when they took the clothes off each other it was ripping and tearing, and desperate and needy, this was careful. This was sweet, and deliberate, filled with worry, and the touch of someone who just wanted her to be safe, and warm, and loved. That was all Y/N ever wanted for her.

Cheryl let Y/N help her into the bath, lowering her still shaking form with the utmost care into the warm and welcoming water. The redhead hummed softly, the chill etched into her skin already starting to fade with the fragrant water as it kissed her skin. "Is it warm enough?" Y/N queried, still holding Cheryl's hand beneath the water as she sunk until only her head was above water.

"It's perfect." She had relaxed entirely, her eyes slipping closed, Y/N watched her, it was always nice to see her look so peaceful. It had been the greatest luck that Y/N had been able to see her this way often, when she slept beside her, when she held her hand, when they went to dinner in a different town, where no by knew them. Unfortunately, she was aware that Cheryl's peace really only came with her, Y/N knew full that she was Cheryl's escape, from her family, from the school that was heavy with reminders of her brother. That was okay. It was important she had that escape, and Y/N was swallowed by the feeling of eternal bliss that Cheryl chose to find that safety in her, it was all she could do to see it happen. 

"I'm glad, baby." She sighed, moving her hand out of the water to brush Cheryl's hair back from her face, "I'm going to go and find you some clothes, alright?" She leaned over and kissed the other girls forehead gently, drying her arm with a hand towel on her way out. Finding towels took a bit longer than finding the bathroom, the doors to cupboards and doors to bedroom were exactly the same and as date would have it she must have opened every other door in the apartment before she found the one holding the towels.

Thankfully, having opened all the doors she knew exactly where to find Veronica's room, the problem with this part came when she realised that she had no idea which clothes to bring Cheryl. She saw the girl nigh on everyday but god, she couldn’t remember for the life of her what she wore, or what she might wear that came from Veronica's closet. Eventually she had to make a decision and after ten minutes of staring at the clothes in complete confusion, she decided to go for practicality over fashion, and chose the warmest things she could find, loading them into her arms with the towels and wandering back towards the bathroom as she listed everything in her head to make sure she hadn't missed anything. 

Somehow she managed to open the door with one of her hands while still balancing everything else. Y/N entered, greeted by a pleasant fruity smell, coming from whatever Cheryl was currently using to wash her hair, and it was a nice smell, not quite as lovely as the smile on the redhead's face that seemed almost content, especially after the events of a few hours ago. "What did you find for me?"

"It might not be to your high standard of fashion but it feels warm, and I mean, you can spend a few hours without being runway ready in order to not develop hypothermia, right?" Y/N chuckled and Cheryl sat up, tilting her head.

"Depends, how bad is it?" She asked, feigning innocence, "For instance, if it's ripped Jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt from the dark ages, then I'd rather go for the hypothermia."

"Cheryl...." Y/N said with a very unimpressed look adorning her features, "that's exactly what I'm wearing."

"I know." She grinned slyly and the older girl rolled her eyes, picking up the dress she'd chosen, it was a deep burgundy coloured dress, the material looked thick and luxurious, and definitely warm, with long sleeves and subtle gold beading around the neck and sleeve hems.

"Veronica doesn't do pants apparently so I just got some tights to wear under it so your legs don't get cold." She blushed slightly, holding out the grey tights she'd found to go with it, waiting to be judged for her taste. 

"That's actually really cute." She smiled, pulling herself up from the water slowly, reaching out for a towel, Y/N Dropped the dress on the basin and picked up one of the towels, wandering over and wrapping it around her shoulders tightly. 

"I'm glad you think so, but you've got some colour back now, do you feel warm?" She asked, her brows furrowing in concern, as she rubbed the girls arms, helping her from the tub. 

"Yeah, I'm all warm and no longer blue. Which is a relief, because blue and burgundy don't really go together." Cheryl chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling her in and hugging her tightly against her chest, Cheryl sighed and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't call you."

"God, Cher bear, no. I should have known, I'm never letting that happen again." She whispered, running her fingers through the other girls hair carefully and full of adoration. "As long as you're with me, no one else is going to hurt you, and if they try then they're gonna wake up somewhere dark, and cold, and dangerous, wishing that they didn't." She snarled softly, moving her hands to Cheryl's cheeks and lifting her head, pressing her lips gently against hers. The response was immediate as always, the Blossom's arms coming to wrap around her neck and pull her in, the towel dropped from around her body onto the floor.

"Jesus, Cheryl!" Y/N pulled away instantly and scooped up the towel, scurrying to get it back around her girlfriend. On any other day, the towel would be forgotten entirely in a haze of needy lips and desperate hands, but on account of today's 'almost freezing to death' incident, the towel was a priority.

"You know, I can take care of myself." She scoffed slightly, though it was nice to have the towel back so she could dry away what water hadn't soaked into her girlfriends T-shirt.

"I know, I know you can but I like protecting you. I like looking out for you. I love you." And that was true, Cheryl was fierce and strong, but no matter how fierce someone is they're going to need help sometime, especially when they had been through what she had. 

"I love you too, Y/N, and I promise I won't try that again... I just feel like I have to do something." She sighed, that slight tone of hopelessness returning to her voice as she went about pulling on the tights.

"Of course you do, and you will, I believe fully that you'll find the right thing to do." Y/N said, exuding confidence with every word, as she pulled her jacket back on, shrugging comfortably into the leather. 

"I just feel like I need a new beginning, like a fresh canvas," she tried her best to explain, pulling the dress on over her head and smoothing down the front delicately, "like... Like being purified." She shrugged, brushing past Y/N to get out the door, closely followed by Y/N herself. 

"Well, baby, I'm no rich girl on a revenge mission, but I have a tried and true method for purification." She grinned devilishly, and Cheryl turned to her again as they entered the living area, grabbing Y/N's arms and pulling them around her waist.

"And what's that?" She asked, her fingers tangling in the older girls hair, their eyes meeting again. They shared such an intensity, in every way, and it was perfect for both of them, though it made them dangerous to everyone but each other.

"Burn everything down." She smirked, Cheryl grinned, pulling the other girl in and connecting their lips again, surprisingly soft and hesitant. Careful and full of unconditional love.

"That sounds good." Cheryl mumbled against her lips, finally pulling back, “Good enough that I think I might." She stepped away and Y/N nodded slowly. 

"Okay, but be very careful, recovery from a fire is a lot harder than a warm bath and a stolen dress." The older girl warned, grabbing Cheryl's hand and kissing her knuckles softly. 

"I promise, but you know I have to do this alone." She said, squeezing Y/N's hand.

"I know, kitten but you call me when you need me, okay?" She said, almost sternly and the redheaded girl simply nodded. "Good, well, I'll go now, let you figure this out, but I won't be far away."

"I know, baby." She grinned and Y/N nodded, letting go of her hand and starting towards the door. Cheryl watched the back of her girlfriend’s jacket as she opened the door, reading the words over and over and relishing in how safe it made her felt, and yet how dangerous it made her feel. "Hey, Y/N..."

"Yeah?" She asked, turning back to her with a soft smile. 

"He helped save me, and he helped with finding out what happened to Jason. You guys will look after Jughead, right?"

"Of course, baby. The serpents are family, he's with us now."

Everything tags: @gryffndor @itsjaynebird @vanessa-sanch-blog @lost-in-wonderland-x​ @annoyingsibling​ @bex09

ladies tag: @beronicabisexual

Also @full-dark-no-starsxx because she asked to be tagged and because I love her 

[flightdescending]

Part I - Part II - Part III

“I’ve been in the Tangled Wood since just after Winterfeast,” the fae said. He wore a broad hat with a wispy feather stuck in the brim, and an elaborate sword in a scabbard hung around his waist. “The Night of the Nocturne was already in full swing, of course, but Springle would not abide by me leaving before Winterfeast.”

Luca and Marigold had fallen into conversation with the fae after settling on the deck of the ferry, which was a smallish ship with Ashfall-style paddlewheels on either side to ensure it stayed timely. Its small size did cause it to be rocked by any wave of significant height, which was a bit miserable, especially combined with the chilliness of the seaspray and ocean wind. Luca watched a guardian fly by over the strait, gliding effortlessly on the wind, headed for the distant shore. Luca envied the efficiency of that method of travel. To put his luggage on the boat and simply fly over the water -- that would be a wonderful thing. But being on the ferry did allow him companions, and as he sat next to Marigold and listened to the fae’s tale he decided this was better, anyway. “It’s the most active time for ghosts,” the fae explained. “From the month of Winterfeast to the Trickmurk Circus. And everyone always wants what the dead have claimed.” The fae’s name was Cricket, he’d said. He was a ghosthunter, a guide through haunted ruins. “Ghosts are everywhere, of course, but there are none so easily agitated as the ones in Ghostlight. That’s where I make most of my money for the year. But they all quiet down a bit after the Circus, and there are less treasurehunters making the trip out to the ruins. So I go home, to Pod’s Garden. Such a pleasure meeting others making the same trip! More have been coming every year but not usually in Windsinger’s month.” Luca nodded. “I’ve bought a farm that needs tending to,” he explained happily. “It’s been sitting empty for a little while. And I was rather eager for a change of scenery, to tell the truth.” “Well, that makes sense, then!” Cricket said. “An empty farm -- I know the one it must be: old Rooter’s place. He died last year. Must not have had anyone to leave the place to after all, then.” Luca felt a mix of anxious delight to hear anything at all about the estate he’d bought and mild awkwardness at the realization he might be seen as taking over a deceased neighbor’s property. He hadn’t really thought about that before. “I’m sure that’s likely, I was told it was the estate of someone who had just passed.” He cast about for another topic, and remembered Marigold. “I was told Pod’s Garden holds exceptional festivals, is that true?” Cricket smiled. “They’re the most elaborate I’ve seen outside of the Tangled Wood’s very own Circus. Some Gardeners will make the trip to the Tangled Woods for that. And I have been to a Brightshine Jubilee in Beacon’s Gate once, when I was younger, that was truly a sight -- but every flight goes all-out on their own festival, don’t they? But for the festivals Pod’s Garden throws, for Mistral Jamboree this month, and many of the others, of course especially Greenskeeper’s, we get flocks and flocks of visitors traveling to town to experience it.” Marigold grinned. It sounded very promising. “Is there a fireworker in town for them?” The fae thought about that for a moment. “No, none of the Gardeners are fireworkers that I can think of. We must get some independent ones, because there’s definitely been some fireworks at festivals I remember. But the main event are Pod’s flower shows.” Both Luca and Marigold had to wonder how flower shows could be the main event of a festival, but they didn’t question it. Marigold was feeling very hopeful. “I’m a fireworker myself, and an alchemist. I was hoping there might be a job there,” she said. “My patron clan, Brightscale, split up when the leader joined the Exalted, which left me without a job.” “I’m sure you could find a place there,” Cricket said. “I don’t think we have an alchemist, either.” He looked thoughtful. “I heard about Brightscale, they were a clan near the border? They were the targets of that harpy raid.” Marigold nodded sadly. “Yes, the leader and a few others were killed. Apparently that flock have been causing a lot of trouble, although they don’t wear the Alliance banner.” “How terrible,” Luca said. “I didn’t know we were having beastclan problems in Sunbeam.” “Oh, yes, in Sunbeam and the Wood, too. It’s happening everywhere, as often as dragons raid harpies,” Cricket said -- a little reproachfully, Luca thought. “I’m sorry you lost your patron, Marigold.” The sun was hanging low on the western horizon after an hour of sailing. It would be down by the time they made landfall on the shore of the Labyrinth, which they could just make out as a verdant stripe to the north. Luca shivered as a spray of water was carried onboard by the wind. He turned to Cricket hopefully. “Could you tell us more about ghosthunting? I read a novel about a ghosthunter once but I have never met a real one. It’s fascinating.” Cricket sat up taller. As a fae, he was much smaller than either of the other dragons, but he exuded a confidence born from a life of facing mysteries and dangers that frightened even the largest of dragons. “I have a story to tell, if you’ll allow me -- Springle will want me to tell it in great detail and I might as well practice it.” “Oh, yes, please,” Marigold said. Cricket nodded, and began. “It was about a month ago now, before Trickmurk. A pair of treasurehunters from Dragonhome hired me to guard them as they explored Ghostlight. Fairly typical. They were not very experienced, mostly full of bravado with gold in their eyes. The rumor of riches in the Ghostlight Ruins is as unkillable as its denizens, and to tell the truth there are a few grand treasures brought up out of the stones every now and then. Mostly it’s stuff people left behind, the kinds of things that get haunted, especially in the Tangled Wood. Books, old hatchlings’ toys, things like that. The worst is when they start messing about with the crypts, of course. “This pair was particularly tenacious, not to be swayed by wraith hounds or tatterwings. We were in the ruins for a solid week altogether, camped out near an ancient lair. I’d sanctified the place: salt and iron filings and agrimony petals around the perimeter, all the tricks that keep spirits away. Still I couldn’t help feeling we were into something deep, and I wished I had brought even more protection. The longnecks that live in the area swear by bluelight candles, but they don’t make them for outsiders, and I haven’t been able to work out the recipe myself. The two I was guarding had brought some ropes and pulley systems. They’d driven nails into columns and stones to anchor the pulleys, and they’d made a fair spider web in one section of the lair. They were sure they’d found the crypt of the old clan leader, and had a huge flat stone they needed to move. It was rather impressive of them to have thought to bring pulleys, really. Normally folks just go in with pickaxes and shovels, which is slow going and annoys the wendigos. So they had their ropes wrapped around the stone and I was helping tug the thing off. Took a lot of maneuvering but the two fellows were strong enough and we got it off after a while. Underneath was a tomb. Dark, cold stone stairs leading down into shadow. Would be spooky but that’s what the whole place feels like, deep shadow. Still, there’s a smell like rot coming up from below and that’s unusual. Everything in Ghostlight is so old it doesn’t smell like decay. It smells like age, and dust, and lots of spirits, but most dragons can’t smell that. But rot, no; only carrioncorns really smell like rot and you only get those if they wander in out of the Abiding Boneyard. They don’t live underground. So these poor plunderers light a torch and I go down first to make sure there’s nothing sleeping down there, like a somber spirit or something. There’s a bunch of roots and cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, but it’s dry, and I can’t find any reason for the smell. The torch behind me is throwing a long shadow ahead, making it hard to see, and I’ve got one hand on my supply pouch and another on the hilt of my sword, waiting for something to jump out. But there’s nothing at all, you can tell by the sound. Empty echoes, the sound’s not hitting any interference. Just some stone plinth on the back wall with an urn on it. So I relax. ‘Empty’, I tell them. I can tell they’re disappointed that there’s not much in the tomb, but that’s not really my problem. I’m standing at the bottom of the staircase, tying a sprig of hyssop into a root tendril that’s dangling down. Hyssop’s a good ghost ward, I have a lot of plants like that. It only really works on little phantoms and wraith hounds, sometimes, but I was being thorough. My frills were tingling, like things were moving through air in a different time. One of the treasurehunters was a little hot-headed, and after they’d both searched the whole place over, peeling up flagstones and knocking on the walls to find secret hollows, they came up empty. He was mad. They thought they’d be rich by now, they’d researched old books and studied maps and there was supposed to be something buried here, they said. The mad one swept his tail around and smacked that urn right off its perch. It was just clay, not even decorated, and they’d opened it up already and saw it was full of nothing but dust, or ashes. When it hit the ground it broke into big shards, and the dust spilled out onto the stone. That’s when the rot smell got really bad. It swept up out of the dust and filled that little room, blown by an unseen wind. I had my sword out by now. This was going to be bad. Even my wards could tell there was a ghost coming now, and they scrambled to get around me to the stairs. I watched for a minute: the dust started to tremble, and it began pulling itself together, whirling up and looking terrifyingly solid. The smell was overwhelming, no ghost smelled like that. I flew up after the treasurehunters, but by then the stone itself had started quaking. I’m lucky I got out of the staircase before the ceiling collapsed. The ground looked like it was breathing for a moment. The dark earth and the cracked stone of felled walls and columns boiled around the tomb. And then something broke through. It was a skeletal hand, enormous, with blood red claws as long as I am. It was as big as an imperial -- bigger. It dug those claws into the dirt and pulled itself up, and the ground heaved up as the skull of the thing broke through. It was coming from nowhere, from somewhere else, anchored in that gravedust. Rotten, tattered cloth was clinging to its skull, and mud and moss rained down from its shoulders as it pushed itself up, and up. When its ribs were free, it tore a single, bony wing from the ground and stretched it out. The membrane of it looked like the cobwebs in the staircase, stretched thin and holey. It didn’t care at all about the ropes that still hung around the place from the excavation. Wherever they would have confined it, the ropes burned apart and the whole system snaked to the ground. Before I could even react, the specter swung its monstrous hand and hit one of my wards. It connected like a battering ram, and the poor fool got swept aside like a sack of grain. He cracked his head on a column and didn’t get up again. ‘Get behind a wall!’ I yelled at the other one, and he just managed to get to cover as the creature swiped its claw again. I flew up to that sweeping arm and grabbed onto a bit of tattered cloth. It seemed disorientated, just swinging about randomly, letting out a breathless, rattling, stinking roar from those skeletal jaws. I could hear buzzwings flying about, huge blooducker flies with stingers, but they were just as unfocused, like they’d been slumbering, too. I crawled up the bony arm, up the rotten cloak that half covered the thing’s head. A massive cloud of ghost mist and gravedust was swirling around in the ribcage below me, and in its eyes were glowing orbs that showed a kind of half-crazed intelligence. This was something that had been cursed, far worse than anything I’d seen yet in Ghostlight. It’s no wonder the treasurehunters had found something written about this tomb, it was almost certainly a warning. Perched now on the head, I held on as tight as I could with my wings and feet and I lifted my sword up straight above a glowing faultline in the back of it’s skull. I suppose I should explain my sword -- It’s iron, edged with silver, the only kind of blade that affects ghoststuff, and beyond that it was forged in the roots of the Behemoth and cooled in the waters there. There are few things the Gladekeeper mistrusts more than false life -- her sister the Plaguebringer is the same. So as I thrust my sword, small though it is, into the skull of this behemoth, all the dead magic powering its anger and convulsions shuddered a final throe and stopped its whirling. It seeped out all at once, and the mighty bones collapsed. I tumbled down with them, trying to get my sword out from where it was stuck, but as the skull hit the ground it, and all the rest of that horrible specter, disintegrated into nothing more than ashes. The poor fellow who got tossed aside turned out to be unconscious, but alive. We made up a travois, a stretcher that the unharmed one could drag, and got back to the outskirts of Wispwillow. I didn’t hear from them again, I guess they were done treasure-hunting. And I didn’t get another client after that, I just spent the rest of the time clearing out aer phantoms from a clan leader’s private library.” “But what was the… the specter?” Luca asked. “Well, it’s hard to say,” Cricket said. “I asked around amongst my peers who were still lingering in Wispwillow after Trickmurk. It’s not the first time such a large and malevolent ghost has been seen in Ghostlight. As far as we can tell, they were either heavily cursed individuals, perhaps the victim of some sort of capital punishment from the very early Fourth Age that has since been forgotten, or else they’re the memories of the Lightweaver’s folly -- the shattered ghosts of an Emperor struck down by the deities.” He shrugged. “It is likely to remain a mystery. The ashes, unfortunately --” The fae reached into his pack and pulled out a vial full of a dusty brown substance, stoppered by a cork sealed with translucent wax. “--appear to be simply ashes, and nothing more.”

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

totallynerdstuff

replied to your post

“In the mood of writing more bughead soooo… hit me with your prompts?...”

First of all thank you so much for creating such amazing stories! I'd love to read a story involving prom/ school dance. Betty wants to go with Jughead but he's not crazy about the idea of going to a school event like that.

Hope you like it, dear!! Thank you for your lovely words and for requesting!! 

“No.”

“But, Juggie—”

“Betty, I said no.”

A childlike pout adorned the blonde’s luscious pink lips as she dropped her back on her leather seat at Pop’s, the action filling the silence with an icky squish sound. The conversation was pretty much going on and on like that since she had entered the small dinner and sat next to her beloved boyfriend, who these past days wasn’t so beloved but seemed to drive her to the wall with his stubbornness and his nonexistent desire of earning any social skills. At this point Betty was either gonna give up or smother his ridiculously handsome face with that laptop of his, that had his attention the whole hour she was trying to change his mind.

Topic of conversation: Riverdale High’s 20s decade dance. The whole school was filled with a gazillion of posters and excitement was pouring from every corridor of their high school, as this themed dance was a first time thing and very much anticipated. Needless to say, the Jones boy was grumpy and easily irritable this whole week that the preparations had reached their zenith. He didn’t quite get the big deal; it was just another event added to their long list of pep-rallies and jubilees, this being even worse, because it demanded attire from some too far gone golden era. Yeah, Jughead, wasn’t going to attend that.

However, the blonde bubbly beauty that prided in calling his girlfriend was indeed a total stereotypical teenage girl when coming to being all dolled up for such events. He knew of course that she had a soft spot for ruffle dresses and shimmery bobby pins but he didn’t quite expect the shine, genuine shine, her lovely eyes radiated once the theme of the dance had been announced. From that day on, she was constantly bombarding him with subtle hints at first but when she lost her patience and boldly asked him, earning a simple yet fierce negative answer in return, the blonde menace had tried on him every trick of her sweetness and seduction 101, in hopes to have him putty in her hands as always. It was indeed a hell week for Jughead.

“Juggie…” she tried again, her voice cotton candy sweet and soft, and rubbed herself deliciously on her boy’s side, letting her fingers dance over the strands of hair that were left uncovered from his crown-like beanie at the back of his neck, knowing that this was one of his favorite touches of affection. Jughead closed his eyes momentarily, still facing the screen, and bit his lip not to scoff or, worst, give in. She wanted desperately to make him break, he knew that much, but he had taken a vow that this time, he wouldn’t let her have her way.

“C’mon all our friends will be there and it’ll be so much fun!” the excitement in her tone was genuine and her smile bright. “You can put in use those suspenders that you always have falling over your sides too.” Betty giggled, fiddling playfully with the said item, only for Jughead to lightly slap her hand away without sparing her a glance. “Plus I’m sure there’ll be tons of finger food lying around.” She was starting to lose hope again but decided to play the food card as a last minute’s resource.  He didn’t even flinch and that brought back the pout on her lips.

“You said so yourself; finger food. That’s not even real food.” Jughead mused with no interest at all, continuing with his typing. He knew that if he stopped, he would be forced to look into her eyes and, boom, that would be his undoing and, button line, self-inclined torture. “Plus, I’m sure spiked punch will be the only dominant thing around and seriously, discourteous jocks with more alcohol in their system than blood sugar is not my idea of fun, sorry.” He ranted in his usual apathetic manor, pressing a full-stop hard in coordination with the end of his sentence to underline his point of ‘yes, I’m standing my ground here’, before casually taking a sip of his coffee.

Betty was just there shaking her head in a ridiculous manner at how unoriginal he sounded, having untangled herself from him from the moment he started his rebellious statements, and she curled her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“Why are you making it this hard?” she exclaimed in frustration.

“Because, obviously, I don’t feel like going. And you keep bugging me two days now!” he snapped back in an equal upset tone.

“I’m bugging you?” her perfect ponytail bounced with the sharp turn of her head to face him, eyes narrowed and their color a tad deeper with temper, and Jughead flinched because his choice of words was bad but, sue him, he couldn’t hold himself back sometimes. “Well, you are bugging me with this whole douche behavior of yours and your far-fetched bull—beliefs!” she changed the word last minute, because she was Betty Cooper and cursing wasn’t really in her comfort zone, face fuming now from suppressed anger and hands bawled in fists against the inside of her arms.

Jughead opened his mouth to say something but hopefully thought first and closed it, sizing Betty’s fiery stare, knowing that if she pushed her more this wouldn’t end well and, contrary to what she believed, he really didn’t wanna fight with her for something as ridiculous as a stupid school dance. Betty sighed a ‘whatever’ and dropped back against her seat again, forcing her eyes at a family of five that were seated two booths in front of them to the left, not really in the mood of talking to him more.

Jughead sighed, not quite liking the tense silence between them. He knew that maybe he was overreacting a little, sure a dance wouldn’t hurt him that much, but he was getting cold feet even at the idea of his slouchy posture amongst his hypervating classmates. Jughead didn’t like the spotlight, or even the sidelines of it for that matter, and the cold sweat and damp palms that were a friend of his at such occasions were something he deeply wanted to avoid. Especially if Betty Cooper would be standing next to him, with a beauty straight out of a Parisian catwalk.

“Is it that bad that I want to dance with my boyfriend and not go with Kevin once again, like a pathetic excuse of an arm-candy?” she wasn’t really done yet, even though she was trying to behave civilized but the nervous trembling of the foot of her left leg that was resting against her other betrayed her. In Betty’s books, Jughead was being downright unfair and mean.

“Why are you trying to change me all of a sudden?” he grimaced in frustration, snapping the words and nearly interrupting her. Betty scoffed at that, still looking away. “I thought you knew who I was and loved me because and in spite of that.”

“I’m just asking for one night for you to be with me and let me have this!” she groaned because now she was really fed up.

It was Jughead’s time now to think she was being unfair. He always let her have everything; he wasn’t backing up, period. “No.” he blurred and turned back to his laptop, Betty leaving a long childish groan in frustration.

If Kevin and Veronica hadn’t walked up to them at that moment she was going to smother him for sure.

“Hey you two lovebirds!” Veronica sing-sung but her face dropped in a pout once seeing them all frowny and pissed. “Oh no, trouble in paradise already?” she faked sadness to tease them, while sliding along with Kevin to the seat across them.

Betty dropped her palms to the table with sound, making the two teenagers jump and round their eyes at her whereas Jughead just raised a brow, his cockiness aggravating her more.

“You two! Up!” the blonde ordered her friends with her pointer, the duo across her shooting up from their seats in horror. “Jughead here” she colored his name with all the venom she could gather up and the boy in question looked up at her with his signature challenging look “needs to have some alone time to think. He doesn’t really thinks straight lately as it seems.” She mused in a stuck up, bitchy voice that Jughead didn’t know Betty Cooper even possessed and that came to hate immediately.

“Fine!” he challenged back, faking ignorance and drumming his bony fingers on the table. He wasn’t backing up, end of story.

“Fine!” she snapped back furious, knitted brows and all, dragging a surprised Veronica by the elbow to another table, the girl making faces of pain, certain that Betty’s hold was minutes away from stopping her blood flow.

Kevin just stood there with a dumbfounded smile, the comic fight of his friends truly a sight to see.

“Kevin, if you don’t want a pretty mean stain of tabasco sauce on your cashmere teal colored sweater, I advise you to keep moving.” Betty’s threatening stare and fuming whisper made the said boy round his eyes terrified and hug himself defensively, Kevin sending a brief apologetic look to Jughead, before sprinting to join the two girlfriends.

Betty’s turned back was the only view Jughead had for the rest of the evening.

If somebody didn’t know any better, they would have been sure until now that Betty Cooper was part of the buffet décor. Since the time the blonde beauty had set foot on Riverdale’s school gym, escorted of course by no other than a smiley Kevin Keller, it seemed that she had grown roots at the side of the long rectangle table, feeling like a fish out of the water in the sea of pretty dresses and patterned tuxedos.

Riverdale High was alight to say the least. The large gym was transformed successfully in what 20s dance clubs were supposed to look back in the day with yellow twinkle lights and fake chandeliers and velvet curtains and even a faux champagne tower right in the middle of the finger food filled buffet. The chaperons had opted for soda to be running down the stocked in a tower crystal glasses, a very much more appropriate choice of drink for the young people around, but still the vibe was right and Betty was impressed. If only Betty had somebody to share her excitement with.

Her long, thick eyelashes, thanks to her miracle mascara, fanned her rosy cheeks as she blinked, taking it the sight in front of her. Teenagers were crowding the makeshift dance floor at the center of the gym, swaying as best as they could to the rhythm Josie and the Pussycats were setting and trying to mimick any dance move they had seen in numerous 20s movies. The three girls on the stage, dressed in matching silver dresses, were playing 20s inspired covers of famous modern songs and all the high schoolers were ecstatic to say the least.

Betty didn’t quite expect to feel this lonely and unwanted in a room full of people. As she watched her classmates dance and have the night of their lives, she could feel the lump in her throat getting bigger and bigger but she had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry because, really, her pricey make-up deserved better than being wasted over some stupid Jughead Jones. Yes, duh, end of story, not even a tear to be shred, I see you Betty Cooper!

Some kind of 20s retro cover of Beyoncé’s Crazy In Love was being blasted from the speakers and more and more teenagers kept joining the crowd of sweaty bodies at the dancefloor. Right at the center of it Cheryl Blossom’s red tresses, wavy and pinned to one side by a feathery sapphire hairclip, were bouncing along with the sequins of her same colored dress and some meters away was Veronica, gorgeous and confident Veronica, sporting a black feather boa around her neck, over her usual pearls, and a black form fitting flapper dress, low on her cleavage and short on her thighs with million sparkling tassels decorating it whole and offering a seductive peak-a-boo of her lean legs with every twirl she took like a true flapper girl out of a black and white movie. Betty really wanted to know if she could pull off a look like that but she knew Alice Cooper would kill her before she would, something that made her sigh. In front of her was Archie, both of them dancing crazily and smiling bright like the chandelier above them. Betty felt a tug of jealousy at the sight of them, not because they had come together or because they might have been here as more than friends, but because they got to spend the night with the person they wanted, having just fun. She was allowed to want to have fun with her own boy, wasn’t she?

Feeling the lump again choking her neck, the blonde dame dropped her eyes to the floor and started picking on her dress, the dress she had chosen nearly a month ago and was so excited over wearing, because she had a feeling he would have loved it on her. It was a silk dusty pink – her color – aerie dress with draped short sleeves, shear on her torso with some seductive white lace peaking from inside, tightening deliciously on her waist with a sequined thin line and then flowing over her tanned legs up until the top of her knees, almost invisible sequins giving the skirt of the dress a delightful grace that was so Betty Cooper. A same colored sequined headband was around her forehead with a dusty pink feather decorating the left side of her head, staying true to the flapper fashion, and her hair was in small curls this time, pinned just under her ears to look short and bod-like. Her look was concluding a loose pearl necklace lying in a knot under her modest but seductive cleavage and some dusty gold, pep-toed Mary Jane heels, decorated with tasteful shapes of glitter and tiny pearls.

But he wasn’t here to see any of that, he was stubborn and a basic jerk and Betty felt so beyond frustrated at him and so beyond sad. Even Reggie was there, swinging awkwardly with Tea Miller and whispering to her ear things that Betty knew for sure were sickening but at least he was there, he was present and presentable enough, not disappeared in thin air, without even caring to call her or text her two days now. Two days!

“Alright, gentlemen. Now grab your gals and show them some loving, won’t you?” Josie addressed with a soft voice and a sweet smirk, once the song ended and the girls behind her begun playing a slow one.

The teens at the center of the gym formed pairs and the lights dimmed a little, as the first notes of another cover, appropriate for the era, echoed in the room and Josie started singing the lyrics of Stay With Me by Sam Smith. Betty just huffed and straightened down her skirt with venom, refusing to watch anymore and turning her back to the crowd. And as she kept staring the bleachers and the lump in her throat grew impossible to ignore and she kept fiddling with her stupid headband and fighting with the urge to burst into heavy tears, she felt a presence behind her along with a polite clearing of throat.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to offer me this dance?” the soft voice she came to love addressed her and she turned in a blink, silk and sequins twirling graciously around her knees.

She was at a loss of words. There in front of her, dressed in a black double breasted suit, was her idiot of her boyfriend, in all his vintage glory. White, almost invisible, lines were running down his perfectly ironed black tux, Jughead staying loyal to his favorite color, and a white dress shirt was peaking from inside along with a patterned black and pink tie, coordinating with the dusty pink of her dress. His hair was in its usual waves, a tad tamer now though, and he had even traded his beloved beanie for a black fedora, looking like a true gentleman straight out of a detective novel. Damn, he looked something so much more than handsome.

“Wow.” Jughead breathed, soft blue eyes scanning her up and down and shining in boyish awe. “It’s the first time my imagination fails me this miserably.” He smirked back at her, honestly finding her stunning beauty not even matching his wildest expectations.

“What are you doing here?” Betty snapped out of her own awestruck state regarding his looks and asked, not remembering that she was supposed to be angry at him, very angry. “I thought this wasn’t your idea of fun or that it would a waste of a perfect Saturday night—” she went on to quote him annoyed but he cut her off.

“I’m standing here sweating in a way too warm woolen suit, hinting that I was a jerk and subtly asking you to forgive me. Dance with me, please.” He offered again, serious now and a tad pleading, offering his hand for her to take.

Betty gave him a look under her eyelashes, then glanced at his outstretched arm and then back at him and huffed in slight defense, before dropping her white tulle glove clad palm over his, letting him walk her to the dancefloor.

They swayed for a couple of seconds in silence with him roaming his fingertips ever so lightly over the rich part of her back her beautiful dress left bare, causing goosebumps to rise on her spine. Betty loved having him this close, breathing in his scent, like sandalwood and fresh air, and having his lean torso pressed against her. She had missed him terribly and she was seconds away from admitting it.

He bet her to it. “I missed you.” Jughead whispered to her ear, blonde curls tickling the side of his cheek, smirking once feeling her shiver lightly at his fingers and his tone of voice. “Bets, I’m so sorry.” He whispered again, dropping his hand to her waist to bring her even closer and Betty winced at the lose of his amazing fingers against her spine, before feeling even more lightheaded from their proximity.

She ordered herself to stay calm, even though that was impossible around him, and arrange her thoughts. “You are acting like an immature jerk, you don’t call, you don’t text…What do you want me to say?” her voice was a whisper too and her eyes were closed, relishing in the way he deliciously swayed against her, despite the fact that she was still mad. A little now but still.

“I know I’m sorry. I was just drowning in self-pity and that makes me a coward.” He confessed, swaying them to the beat as best as he could; he wasn’t much of a dancer but his mom had him once or twice when he was little twirling with her around the kitchen mist laughter and making pancakes. “And you know first-hand how much unknown scares me.”

Betty sighed. She knew that and she did find a unique beauty to the way he experienced things with her; first kisses, first dates, first touches. Jughead was timid and careful when it came to first time experiences. And that was never a drawback for her; she wouldn’t have him any other way.

“I guess I shouldn’t have pushed you that much too.” Betty admitted shyly, fingers picking with the material of his suit on his shoulder before her hand dropped to caress down his back in affection, telling him that she wasn’t that mad anymore. “But still, you shouldn’t have disappeared. I thought that maybe…” the words died on her shiny lip glossed lips, not even daring to say it out loud.

“What?” he pulled back to look at her, the first time that their eyes connected since they had hit the dance floor, Jughead feeling a little weak in the knees at how absolutely breathtaking she looked. “Don’t even say it, Betty, you know that I would never do that to you.” He said fiercely, seeing her drop her eyes between them. “I’m crazy in love with you; that hasn’t changed since now and that won’t change for years to come.”  He confessed with certainty and she couldn’t do anything else but reach up and kiss him. Long, deep, fiercely on his chapped lips.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore ok?” she offered, caressing from his palm all the way to his shoulder in order for her arms to lace behind his neck and her forehead to rest against his. “I love you and you’re here; that’s all that matters.” She whispered against his lips and sighed blissfully.

Jughead kissed her again, loving having her taste on his mouth again, sweet and sexy mixed up in a perfect combination. “So that’s what the roaring 20s looked like, huh?” he changed the subject as she wished.

“Well, I guess that’s a close representation.” Betty formed a cute grimace of a smile. “But everything looks so amazing!” she squealed in a true girl fashion, making him chuckle.

“You look amazing.” He complimented her with a charming smile. “Can you wear this dress like every day?” Jughead fisted the soft material on her hips, loving how it felt over her curves and itching to take his time pealing it off her body until it was just a silk mess on the floor.

Betty giggled, cheeks turning even rosier than before. “I’m sorry but I can’t really appear in cheer practice sparkling like a disco ball.” He winced in dislike and she pecked his lips with an amused smile. “Thank you though. And you look so good yourself. So dapper!” she colored the adjective with a hum of appreciation, eyeing his torso with delight.

“Well… I might have had a little help from Ronnie.” Jughead admitted with a boyish shrug.

“That little traitor!” Betty exclaimed with narrowed eyes. “I knew she was up to something; she was always glued to her phone texting!” she scoffed in disbelief, her still narrowed eyes coming in contact with the brunette from across the room who gave them a thumps up and a pleasing smile.

“We owe her actually. She put some much needed sense into me.” he sighed, thankful for their friend and her really inspirational pep-talks slash lectures .

“Then, good for her.” Betty nodded pleased. “And good for you cos I was seconds away from marching into Archie’s garage and breaking that stubborn head of yours!” she smiled amused and flicked his hat, making it drop lightly to one side.

“Now that” Jughead momentarily took his hands off her waist to straighten up his fedora, as the song ended and an upbeat one began “was not really polite, Ms. Cooper.”

“Oh, really?” Betty dropped her own hands to her hips, challenging smirk intact. “And what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Jones?”

Jughead chuckled, a kind of chuckle that went straight into Betty’s stomach to create a tingling feeling there. “Oh, you’d better hold on tight, doll, cos I’m about to sweep you off your feet!” he exclaimed in a sexy manner and he twirled her under his arm to the beat, before catching her waist and dipping her to the ground, her girly squeal of surprise getting silenced by his demanding lips on hers, Betty’s leg shooting up in reflex to his actions like the kissing scenes in any 20s movie classic, the two of them pulling back with wide grins and shiny happy eyes.

That night Jughead crossed ‘first time having fun’ off his long list of things that Betty Cooper had brought for the first time into his world.

(That was cheesy I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself :P Also, if anyone is wondering about the songs, Beyonce’s Crazy In Love cover is from Swing Republic and Sam Smith’s Stay With Me from Postmodern Jukebox. Thanks for reading!!)

[xavierfiles-blog]

Christina Strain's Generation X is a Bunch of Weirdos Written By One

Christina Strain’s Generation X is one of the most anticipated titles of the upcoming RessurXtion line up. Christian was perviously a colorist before chaging gears and writing for SyFy’s THE MAGICIANS. 

XF: X-Men means a lot of things to a lot of people but what is X-Men to you?

CS: The X-Men were probably, aside from Batman, the first superheroes that I really latched onto. It was like reading a book about a bunch of misfits in high school, which was exactly how I felt. So it was a book that was really easy to identify with. So for me, X-Men was the book the made me a little more OK about who I was. I think that’s pretty much what that book was made to do and I just want to keep that going.

XF: So let’s talk about Generation X specifically. You’ve got quite a cast. What made you go with such an out there cast?

CS: I love that you asked this question after the previous question. There’s a very specific reason we have loving referred to them as the lovable losers. In the beginning, I told Daniel [Ketchum, editor] right away that one of the things I noticed about comics recently is that they’ve become such a mainstream thing. You have all of these X-Men that are just so cool and they’re so spectacular. When I was growing up one of the things about comics was that only nerds read them. Nobody knew who Iron Man was, let alone Tony Stark. Now you have people that know exactly who that is. So what I wanted to do was go back to the root of what I loved about X-Men in general and work with characters who didn’t fit it. To go back to the thing I emotionally latched onto.

Quentin and Jubilee are everywhere for sure but at the same time, they are still misfits. Everybody else on the team is the same way. They’ve were created before I showed up, but they aren’t particularly well known or frequently used characters. I wanted to give them their moment to shine and highlight that even though they are different they are just as special as every other X-Men character.

It’s so funny, but every time I see someone negatively react to Gen X and say “Who the hell is this cast?” I’m like, “that’s the point!” I’m so excited about using characters that maybe we’ve all forgotten. You don’t expect it.

XF: You’re never gonna have a cast that satisfies everyone, but those 4 people who really love Nature Girl are going to be so pumped to see her in the spotlight.

CS: I am actually surprised that she isn’t more popular. First of all, she’s way more useful than I realized when I first started and secondly, her design is fantastic. Amilcar [Pinna, artist] has been adorable. He loves drawing her. I just feel like she is so easy to cosplay and at the same time fun to draw so I am kinda surprised she’s not bigger than she is. But good for me, I got her.

XF: On that same note, who have you been most excited to write in this whole thing.

CS: I gotta be honest, I love them all which is a terrible freaking answer. I do love Quentin; who I know is a very polarizing character. My favorite version of Quentin is the one who can’t admit what he really wants so he’s just dry and sarcastic. But deep down he’s like the Grinch, he’s got a tiny pink center somewhere in there. Which is fun to write because he’s so bad at being good.

I’ve also had a good time writing Nathaniel, who’s new. He’s kinda based on a friend of mine, who I love dearly. It’s kinda like I’ve been writing a love letter to my friend which starts with “hey buddy, guess what, you’re in a book!”

I’ve also really enjoyed Benjamin Deeds. He’s weird, a little bit of a marshmallow, but at the same time he’s the glue of the team which I didn’t see coming. He’s been a very good empathetic character— which I was expecting to be Trevor (Eye-Boy) but Trevor’s coming out a little goofier than I expected him to be.

XF: Wait, wait, wait, he’s a little goofier than a guy covered in eyeballs would be expected to be?

CS: [Laughs] The thing with Eye-Boy’s abilities is that he should be the most empathetic character that completely understands everybody, but the way that I’ve been writing him is that he is overly focused on certain things. Like, he’ll understand the motivations behind a character’s actions, but not that he shouldn’t say what those motivations are out loud. As I’m writing him, I’m realizing that he “sees all” but really understands very little. Which has been a lot of fun.

And then again Nature Girl, I’ve put a little spin on her that I don’t want to say too much about. They’ve all been a good time. And oh, Bling! Oh my god! I have a lot of feelings about Roxy but I won’t go into that. No spoilers.

XF: The Purifier’s are solicited as the antagonists of the first couple of issues. What got you thinking of using the Purifier’s again?

CS: So they’re not a huge threat in Generation X. We wanted a villain that the school’s prepared to deal with. This isn’t a group that they haven’t run across before. In Kitty’s mind (she’s now running the school) the future X-Men are prepared to deal with this group, so they should be fine. But this book isn’t about them. This book is about our lovable losers and how they maybe screw that up. We just wanted a starter villain to show the pros and cons of what our team could do and the Purifiers seemed like a pretty natural choice for that.

XF: You mentioned the future X-Men. Any hints of who that might be?

CS: To be honest I haven’t sat down and divided the whole school up yet, partially because I want the focus of this book to be on our kids. So the majority of what’s going on with the future X-Men and future ambassadors you’ll see in certain roles in the periphery and sometimes their paths will intertwine, but that’s about it.

I’ll straight up say Broo’s a future ambassador. Pixie, Greymalkin, they’re future X-Men. Shark-Girl also a future X-Man. These classes will kinda come in and out and there will be a few issues where you get more students than others.

XF: You previously were a colorist, pretty famously on Runaways, and now you’re writing. What has that transition been like?

CS: Oh it’s been weird! In a good way. I think the weirdest part about the whole thing is, if you told me at the beginning of my career “hey gurl you gonna be writing!” I’d be like “what dot dot dot huh?” It’s been crazy! And I’m one of those people who feel very compelled to work until they feel like they’ve “earned it,” so that’s a whole thing. Maybe it’s because my mom’s given me a complex about working in comics instead of being a doctor, so I’m just trying to prove a point to her? I don’t know. Anyway, transitioning’s been interesting because I know getting hired as a writer at Marvel is a very difficult thing to do, but I already sort of had an in, but I didn’t want to exploit it. But, because I landed staff writing job on THE MAGICIANS before I was offered the White Fox story I did with Sana Takeda for Civil War II: Choosing Sides, a lot of that pressure was alleviated. I felt like I had earned it.

When Gen X came up I was super excited because Daniel was like “do you wanna do something similar to Runaways?” and if you ask me that I will always say yes. Regardless of what I’m working on, if anything has a Runaways feel to it I am down to clown. I love me some teen drama. So I feel good about the environment, but the actually job itself? It’s great, but still a little foreign. Like, if you handed me some pages so color, I’d look at it and go “I know exactly what I’m doing with this,” because I was so comfortable with coloring. But with writing, I’m still felling some stuff out because I’ve still got a lot of room to grow as a writer.

XF: Speaking of Runaways, how is Molly Hayes not in this book?

CS: OK look, she was the first person on this list to put in this book. You know we’re internally calling these guys the lovable losers, to me Molly Hayes was kinda the star of Runaways. She was the best. I love her so dearly. It was funny because when we were talking about it, Jubilee was the first character we picked and the next person was definitely Molly. Daniel was like “really?” And I was like “you’ve got a good point, she might be too cool for this book.” I’m surprised she’s not the star of her own book in all honesty, Molly is just the best character. The only character in Runaways I was ever terrified of dying was Molly. I was just like, if she dies I’m rage quitting this book. So yeah, Molly is too cool for Generation X.

XF: Just to wrap it up, what do you want fans to be most excited about in this book?

CF: I think just get excited to have some fun. My goal is to have a Runaways tone to it. I wouldn’t say it takes itself overly seriously. It’s not a deep, dark, dramatic book. It’s a bunch of weirdos hanging out written by a human weirdo. So get ready for some weird fun.

Thanks again to Christina for talking with us about Generation X. Make sure to check it out this May! Oh and check the cool new pages for the first issue below!

Christina Strain’s Generation X is a Bunch of Weirdos Written By One was originally published on Xavier Files

[marthawelsh]

Everything You Need to Know About the $100 Million Kind Heaven at Linq Promenade

Caesars Entertainment, Jane’s Addiction front man Perry Farrell and other collaborators have announced an ambitious, $100 million project for the Linq promenade on the Las Vegas Strip, Kind Heaven.

Since we know how you like to skim, we’re going to cut through the WTF and sum the project up in a way its development team and other publications have not: In English.

Kind Heaven is an Asian-themed walk-through attraction with music festival roots.

Don’t say we never did anything for you.

Prediction: Best-selling item in the Kind Heaven gift shop will be mosquito repellent.

Yes, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but that’s the essence of Kind Heaven. The details range from breathtakingly original to laughably absurd.

Kind Heaven is a little bit theme park, a little bit interactive theater, all wildly original for Las Vegas, and the entire concept is based upon a dream. More on that in a moment.

The intention is for Kind Heaven to be a unique experience, and from what’s been shared, it could actually end up being just that. It could also be a colossal disaster, which is part of what makes it so exciting.

Let’s dive into this whimsically weird attraction set to open in 2019 in Las Vegas.

Kind Heaven’s logo features a number of symbols, all of which have growths which should probably be looked at by a physician.

The project is being put together by a powerhouse team of creative minds and Caesars Entertainment. That may have come out wrong.

Aside from Perry Farrell (founder of the Lollapalooza music festival), there’s also Cary Granat, co-founder and CEO of Immersive Artistry. Granat is also the former CEO of Walden Media (which produced the “Chronicles of Narnia” film series) and was formerly the president of Miramax.

Also on the team is visual effects pioneer, Ed Jones. Jones was involved with blockbuster films like “The Empire Strikes Back,” “Indiana Jones” and “E.T.” He’s the president of Immersive Artistry.

So, there are some creative minds at work on the Kind Heaven project.

The driving force, though, is Perry Farrell. He’s the one whose dream inspired Kind Heaven.

Farrell says that in his dream, he “descended upon an imaginary city from the sky and watched a girl pickpocket someone who was passed out on the street.”

It takes a true visionary to have a dream and say, “That’s a $100 million idea right there!”

Let us introduce you to Perry Farrell, the man once voted “Least Likely to Ever Work With Caesars Entertainment, Ever.”

From there, back in 2014, Farrell tried to develop an “EDM-driven immersive theatrical production” called “Kind Heaven.” That show, which was intended for Las Vegas, never became a reality, but the Kind Heaven dream apparently lived on. Read more in Rolling Stone.

The specifics of Kind Heaven aren’t easy to pin down, but that’s probably because its developers haven’t quite sorted everything out yet.

What we do know is Kind Heaven will be located at the Linq promenade shopping center. The pedestrian mall is anchored by the world’s tallest Ferris wheel, the High Roller. And In N Out.

Kind Heaven will cover a whopping 100,000 square feet of space with 40 food stations and bars. Hint: That’s a lot.

Bonus points if your first thought was “Blade Runner”!

Kind Heaven will “transport visitors to Southeast Asia” via a “virtual train” and is set to feature holographic special effects, streetscapes and holy temples in Thailand, Vietnam, Nepal and Hong Kong.

According to Cary Granat, the venue will feature music from 130 artists on five stages. Hey, we said it’s whimsical.

Farrell will curate the “audio soundscape” for Kind Heaven, because why would you ever want to just call something what it is? This is art, that’s why.

When “Jubilee” opened in Las Vegas, there was a worldwide rhinestone shortage. With Kind Heaven, look forward to a worldwide monk robe shortage.

Kind Heaven will be family-friendly by day and adults-only at night. According to Farrell, the adults-only part will presumably include “street walkers, nightclubs and sake bombs.”

We’ll see how much of that makes it through Caesars Entertainment’s notoriously stifling review and approval process.

Perry Farrell has provided some of the most vivid (and confounding) descriptions of the attraction.

He told Billboard, “You’re basically walking through a 90-minute show routed in mythology and original content. When you’re within the complex, you’re free to roam around and discover hidden alleyways, visit nightclubs and eat from Hong Kong-style street food vendors. There will be improvisational actors, musicians, acrobats and comedians, combining elements of sensuality and espionage into an experience that will be a first of its kind.”

Think Fremont Street Experience, but rather than downtown’s casino “theme,” an Asian one.

No, really.

Live musical performances on multiple stages (three on Fremont Street, five at Kind Heaven), street performers, bars and restaurants, roaming and exploring, sensuality and immersion.

Oh, and let’s not forget, ziplines. Caesars Entertainment announced its Fly Linq project back in November 2017.

You think we’re kidding about Fremont Street being the inspiration for Kind Heaven? They even included a vagrant in their rendering!

Not happening. Unlike Fremont Street, Linq promenade is private property.

Full disclosure: We work in digital marketing at Fremont Street Experience, and worked in marketing at Caesars Entertainment as well back in the day. God, we feel old.

Here are some other notable features of the Kind Heaven attraction:

Kind Heaven is specifically intended to appeal to Millennials.

It will be cashless. Our first experience with a similar cashless system was at Rock in Rio USA, the music festival held at the Las Vegas Festival Grounds across from SLS Las Vegas. Event organizers love RFID wristband payment systems because they help avoid employee theft and there’s a windfall from the “breakage.” Read more.

The attraction will accept digital currencies like Bitcoin.

It will feature “wearable tech.”

The exact location of Kind Heaven isn’t entirely clear at this juncture, but it’s likely to span the space between Flamingo and the Linq hotel.

The attraction will be open to people of all ages from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., close for three hours and re-open for those 21 and older.

The venue will have a “Dynamo” stage with a capacity of 1,000 people for concerts.

Objects inside the attraction will have RFID tags, and everything will be for sale. Well, almost everything. Farrell says, “Everything that you see, except for my wife, is for sale.”

Fun game! See if you can spot the drama. Answer below.

There may be holographic porn. Farrell says he’d like to have a holographic porn of himself. We are not making this up. Read more.

The venue will feature virtual monkeys that wrestle each other, robotic chickens and 20-foot snake. Guests will presumably be able to wager on the matches.

It will take 18 months of construction.

Kind Heaven will create 200 construction jobs.

The attraction will employ 670, exclusive of the holographic monkeys.

“Honey, she’s a friend from work!”

There have been conflicting reports about how many stories Kind Heaven will take up, ranging from three to five to seven.

Specifics of three levels of Kind Heaven have been shared, though.

Level one is a night market. On this level, at a bar called The Dispensary, guests will be able to order feelings. That is absolutely not a typo. We trust one of the feelings will be “WTF?”

Level two is The Forest, with lost temples and cities, tree houses and lush vegetation. Millennials love their vegetation lush.

Level three is The Sanctuary. This level will be above the Vortex (that colorful, tornado shaped structure at Linq hotel). This area is likely to feature EDM.

And more drama!

Matt Goss’ girlfriend is not pleased.

And while we’re on the subject, Matt Goss is everywhere at Kind Heaven. Remember that rendering of “The Forest”?

The one thing we know for sure about Kind Heaven is Matt Goss is getting a lot of tail.

Yep, Matt Goss and friends.

There’s a small chance this isn’t actually Matt Goss. Would it kill you to just play along, or at least pretend you know who Matt Goss is?

As we’re taking a closer look at the Kind Heaven renderings, we would like to also point out there’s more drama lurking in the forest image.

You were so busy worrying about Matt Goss, you didn’t notice this situation developing nearby.

And don’t get us started about what else is going on in The Forest!

The jealous confrontation in the bar has apparently resulted in the scorned woman having her leg amputated!

When they said there would be danger at Kind Heaven, they weren’t kidding.

That just about covers what we know about Kind Heaven, and we’re exhausted.

So, can a $100 million, Asian-themed attraction based upon a dream thrive on the Las Vegas Strip? We hope so.

Doesn’t Disneyland feels like a dream made real? Come to think of it, doesn’t Las Vegas?

We’ve heard convincing arguments from industry insiders saying Kind Heaven is set to be the biggest game-changing success in the history of Las Vegas. We’ve heard equally compelling arguments Kind Heaven will be the biggest flop in the history of Las Vegas.

Here’s what we think.

Casinos are scrambling to draw the next generation of Las Vegas visitors. Skill-based slot machines, cornhole and eSports are feeble, fruitless attempts at doing so.

With Kind Heaven, Caesars Entertainment is being bold and Las Vegas was built on audacity.

Here’s hoping the dream that is Kind Heaven pays off, because when bold wagers come through in Las Vegas, we all win.

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