#I mean if I woke up on a strange planet that's air was actually damaging

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

These two.

Their relationship once they really become friends is living in my mind rent free.

[cringelordlikesplaz]

Ocean’s Eternity

So. I’ve been thinking about the end of Obsidian Age a little too much. Basically this is the 3000 years Plastic Man spent on the bottom of the ocean. I might do a follow up to this later.

When he woke, everything was dark. There was a sensation throughout his body which felt like suffocation, and there was this... itch. All over. But it was mild. It wasn't important compared to the other, more pressing matter at hand.

He couldn't move. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel or hear or smell or taste or do anything.

Well, that's not true.

He could wait.

~~~

He was on the ocean floor, this much he knew.

~~~

He wasn't being saved. After waiting for however long he'd waited, that was becoming clear. His team was most likely all dead. That was the only scenario he could see where they didn't save him. 

He was in the thick of it, that was for sure.

~~~

He was going to be stuck for a long, long time.

~~~

He mourned for his team. He would have cried if he'd had eyes, but he didn't. Not like the ocean needed any more salt water. He mourned for a lot longer than he should have, honestly. But it wasn't like there was anything else to do but sit there and be sorry.

What finally got him to stop, however, was the fact that they all probably went somewhere nice. Excuse his pun, but there was no way in Hell that the Justice League didn't go to heaven.

~~~

This couldn't be fixed.

~~~

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there. It had been a long while.

He'd taken to counting the seconds, unsure if he was anywhere near correct. No one really concerned themselves so much if the space between beats were too long or short enough. Maybe the Flash, actually. But even he didn't count the seconds.

Or maybe he did. He didn't know. He couldn't ask.

He was going crazy.

He was going very, very crazy.

He knew this. He was pretty sure crazy people weren't supposed to be so aware of their craziness. But when you are aware of nothing else but your mind, he supposed you had to be self aware.

~~~

Every once in a while, he'd have something happen to him that felt like a seizure. It was painful and sudden and sharp and he begged any gods that would listen to let him be. And maybe something out there listened. Maybe something took pity on this wretched thing on the bottom of the sea because when the seizure ended, he'd black out.

Peaceful oblivion.

~~~

He was mad. In more than one way, he was mad. He was pissed, would be the more correct term in this situation. He was mad at his team. At the Justice League. He was so, so angry. How dare they. How dare they?!

They talked shit about him. Sometimes behind his back. Sometimes to his face. They never gave him an ounce of respect. They never gave a damn.

And then they had the audacity to die and leave him there, on the bottom of the sea. Forever. With nothing to do but count the seconds which was probably wrong now that he was so worked up. Great job, Justice League, you made me lose count!

He fumed and raged and plotted and didn't scream because he had no mouth.

~~~ 

The itching was bad. It was really, really bad. It was so, so bad. It was the only thing he could feel. It was consuming every memory of every other sensation. He didn't remember what sunshine felt like, or the rain. He couldn't even feel the coldness or the water or the pressure that was certainly around him.

He could only feel that damned itching.

He hated it. He hated it so much. 

He wanted to turn into a monster and rake his claws across the Earth, he wanted to pull up the land and have magma flow out like the world's life blood. He wanted to shriek and yell and cry and tear his brain out of his skull and slam it into the center of their planet and then maybe- just maybe- he could finally die.

Or maybe he'd infect the planet with his strange body, and then the world and everyone on it would know his pain, know this madness that crawled like a million spiders made of razor blades just under skin that wasn't there.

~~~

His dreams offered no reprieve. His dreams were too lucid, nowadays. Too much time alone in your head would make you a master at your subconscious, he supposed. Except he was still very very very crazy, and so he wasn't quite a master at anything.

But sometimes- sometimes.... his dreams weren't lucid. Maybe he wasn't even asleep when he dreamed, anymore. Maybe it didn't matter. But sometimes, his mind finally calmed, the insanity put away for a few hours, minutes, seconds, all would be soft.

His dreams, the not-lucid ones, whether he was awake or not, had a common theme.

He would be spending time with his son. Whose face, despite so much time alone and insane and in pain on the bottom of the sea, had remained clear as day.

He would be holding someone's hand, and despite how he can't remember the warmth of the sun or a fireplace or a hug, would be warm anyway.

He would be smiling, calm, and happy. He wouldn't be so alone.

When he woke, the madness usually got worse.

~~~

He was no longer mad at the Justice League. He'd finally calmed down. He was still mad, he was certain of that, but that was in the sense that he was insane. He was no longer angry at his old, dead team.

Because rational thought, something he thought had died within him, had found a way to resurrect itself. Like some shambling zombie, it crawled its way up from the bottom of his soul and started to whisper facts to him.

And he was so, so tired of being mad.

They didn't put him here. They would save him, if they were alive. They'd pull him from the depths of this dark Hell and they'd put him back together, piece by piece. They would take away the pain and the darkness and they'd give him back his sunshine and his family and his heart.

Because they were the Justice League. And they were good. 

He mourned for them again, because they deserved to be remembered, even if the only thing that could remember them was the dust at the bottom of the world.

~~~

He was no longer mad. Probably. He wasn't in the best position to tell, honestly. Oh, and he means mad in the sense of insanity, this time.

He was no longer crazy.

It lost its appeal, strangely enough. If he was correct with his counting, it had been around a thousand years. Maybe more, maybe less. Maybe he was completely off. It didn't matter. 

What mattered was that, even though he was sane -saner- his mind was still a wreck. In the expanse of his mind, he stood, hands on his hips. He surveyed the damage. Memories shredded, emotions lost, fear and despair and loneliness on a rampage.

He cracked his metaphorical knuckles.

It was time to start picking up the pieces.

~~~

Slowly, very slowly, he pieced together his memories. Some were beyond repair. He tried to fix them anyway. With patience and care and all the time in the world, he glued his old life back together. His name was Plastic Man, Eel O'Brian, Patrick. Huh.

He was a thief. A hero. A father. 

He had a son. He remembered his son. He never forgot his son, despite it all. But his son's memory did get warped- he'd have to smooth that out.

But, he noted with no small amount of pride, he'd remembered his son's face. Not his height or his age or his voice, but he remembered his face. 

He also remembered that he wasn't a very good father. That came with much less pride.

~~~

In the wake of his madness came clarity. Acceptance. He made his peace with his eternal damnation. Some sort of thousand-year long five-stages-of-grief thing. With a lot more insanity than was usually recommended.

He wasn't going to lie to himself: it sucked. There was nothing good about his situation. But there was nothing he could do, and going mad had only made things worse.

In the wake of his madness came clarity, and with clarity came the realization that he was lonely. Eternally so. He was lonely and regretful and sad. He had so many things he wanted to do. So many places to go, people to see. He had wanted so much.

He didn't know if he deserved it.

He probably did.

~~~

So he was probably still a little bit crazy. Not like before. He was, what he considered, a healthy amount of crazy. 

Just enough to pass the time. Talking to yourself was never considered 'sane' anyway. 

~~~

He was still counting the seconds. It helped things stay in order. He was counting in his dreams, in the deepest part of his subconscious, he counted. He had built quite the internal clock for himself, it seemed.

~~~

Sometimes, he'd stop for a while. Not counting, of course. He had probably forgotten how to stop counting. But everything else. Sometimes, everything else would stop.

His mind would be ever so slow, and nothing truly mattered in those moments. He simply existed, pieces of plastic on the ocean floor.

And it would take a while to come back. He didn't really want to go back, but he always did. And when he did, he'd laugh.

He was plastic in the ocean. He'd been polluting the waters before plastic had even been invented.

It wasn't very funny, but he'd laugh anyway.

~~~

He was in the middle of replaying a baseball game in his mind for the nth time when something happened. Another seizure. Hadn't had one of those in a while.

But something- something was off. It-

He woke up. 

~~~

His thoughts were sluggish. There was- noises and- lights? Pressure. He must have really gone off the deep end now.

And he felt like a pile of mush- of goo or slime- and-

And the itching wasn't there.

The itching was always there.

And he could move.

He may have freaked out a little bit.

~~~

"Plastic Man, you need to calm down!" Superman yelled.

He snarled, "Don't tell me what to do! You're not even real!" 

"We are real! Please, we need you to listen to us-" Martian Manhunter was cut off as he wrenched up a metal panel from the floor and chucked it at him. It phased through the martian, of course, but it did seem to surprise the green guy. His hallucination was very convincing, he'd admit.

The sensations being too loud and painful and too much. The light too bright, the air too fresh. He didn't even know he'd remembered how to breathe.

Suddenly, Superman was in front of his face and was- well he was petting him. It was kinda weird.

But- but his hands were warm. Not only that they had- they had texture and he could feel how tense Superman was, but as the seconds passed and he calmed, so did the tension leave Superman's hands.

"Oh." He whispered. He reached up and took Superman's hand, inspecting it. It was strong, like steel, and he could feel a pulse beat just beneath the skin.

"Oh." He said, interlocking his fingers with Superman's. He gave a light squeeze and Superman squeezed back. He looked up at the man of steel, noticing for the first time he'd shrunken back down into a reasonable size.

A pressure was draped across his back- A black cape had been wrapped around him. He looked over to see Batman kneeling beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He touched the cape on his shoulders- it was heavy and thick and made of something smooth on one side and soft on the other. 

He dragged his fingers across it, reveling in the sensations.

Martian Manhunter was there too, now, and he reached out and gently touched the martian’s face. J'onn allowed him to do that, his eyes shut.

"Oh wow," He said, his voice strange to his own ears.

"...Is this real?" He asked, finally pulling away to look at his hands. They were melted slightly. His entire form was melted slightly. He was also naked. He hadn't even noticed. No wonder Batman covered him up.

"Yes." Batman said, his grip tightening like he could convince him through sheer force of will. Maybe he could.

"...Oh," He said, letting his hands fall.

He swallowed.

"Oh my God." He said, his voice cracking. He buried his head in his hands, feeling his body melt even further.

Someone hugged him. He wasn't sure who. He rested his chin on their shoulder. They put their arms around him and somehow that helped his body stay stable.

And everything was still too much and too close but it was real. It was real. 

He was back.

The Justice League saved him.

~~~

He knocked on the door. He stood there, anxious. The sky was dark. It was dusk. Clouds covered up the sunset. Smog was in the air. Cars drove in the street and the wind howled overhead.

He couldn't stop staring at it all. It was real. It was real. Real in a way he'd forgotten. Real in a way his mind couldn't replicate, not in 3000 years. Though it had come very, very close.

The door opened.

"Patrick," Angel greeted, "How nice to see-"

She paused, taking him in.

"Did something-?"

"Yes." He said, his voice hoarse.

She opened the door for him, and he stepped inside.

"Where's Luke?" He asked.

"Living room." she said, "Come."

Their apartment was small. But not too small. 

Luke sat on the couch, cartoons playing on the TV.

"Dad?" Luke said, brightening. He jumped up from the couch and hugged him tight. He returned the hug, stretching his arms out of his sleeves and holding his son close.

"Dad!" Luke said, pulling away, "You're back!" 

"Yes." He said, "And I'm here to stay."

He turned to look at Angel.

"If that's alright...?"

"Of course." She said, smiling softly, "But I'm going to need help around the house."

He smiled at her, and nodded.

"Dad?" Luke said, weary, "What happened? You and the Justice League saved the day, right?"

"Yeah, Luke. We did." He said, "But I'm not a part of the Justice League anymore."

There was a pause. Angel sat down in a chair.

"Did they kick you out...?" Luke asked.

"No, son, they didn't. I didn't do anything wrong, either. I just-" He choked back a sob, "I can't go back."

Luke hugged him tighter.

"I love you, Luke. With all my heart." He said, failing to keep the tears at bay.

Luke nodded into his chest. He thought he could feel his shirt getting wet.

"So I'm going to stop being Plastic Man."

[star-killer-md]

My Foolish Heart

Requests: 

@worm800 : babe, let's get some kylo fluff in here. KING of minimal and accidental kindness lmao. there's an option at the bottom of fluff prompts that says "writer's choice," so consider this a wildcard. some /suggestions/ i have are from the kiss prompts 7, 26, 25, 44. <3 <3 <3

@obsessionprofessional : I don’t know if you’re still taking requests (thanks, shitty tumblr functions) but may I request Kylo being sweet with the reader after you’ve had a bad day? Thank you!!!! Also please disregard this if your requests aren’t open!

Thank you both so much for requesting and waiting for me to actually write things. I hope you enjoy 💖

Summary: A little companion piece set before the events of DALDOM, one of RC’s very first dreams of Kylo after her promotion. 

Warnings: the set up is angsty cause it’s me, but there’s some fluff at the end, you don’t really need to have read my longer fic to understand, but it might be helpful 

Word Count: 1.5k

It was the yelling that did it. 

That set you reeling and made your heart pound in your ears and your hands shake and your breath rattle in your lungs and— 

And you wanted to put your fist through the top of your desk to relieve some of the pent up adrenaline, but that would mean admitting it got to you. Either way you came out wounded. At this point it was just a matter of what’s more important: your hand or your pride. 

Hux’s voice still bounced around in your skull, bruising neural pathways with the way it echoed. Logically, you understood that sometimes situations were simply irreparable. That there were occasions in your line of work when egos had been too badly damaged or high ranking individuals too personally insulted for you to do any sort of patch job. To be fair, you were most certainly not the one who had shot down multiple allied space crafts during the invasion of a resource rich, outer rim planet killing the son of one very important ambassador in the process, but somehow it ended up on your desk nonetheless. 

And there were not enough credits at your disposal to make up for a dead son. 

You suspected there may not be enough credits in the whole of the galaxy to negate that loss. 

Not that you would know—holodramas can only get you so far in understanding conventional family dynamics—but it seemed a cheap move even as the offer of compensation left your mouth. 

Turns out, you were right. 

The negotiations ended with a severing of ties from the Order and your ass in Hux’s line of fire. Of course it was you on the receiving end of his verbal arsenal seeing as Commander Trigger Happy Ren was conveniently predisposed in the medbay.

How fortunate for him. 

You’d escaped to your office just in time, closed the door and sat and wished you had a pillow so you could scream into it. Because if you screamed, the stinging in your eyes might go away and take the growing knot in your throat with it. 

You weren’t bad at your job, in fact you had just been promoted. 

You thrived in fast paced environments, you could think on your feet and Hux must not believe you’re a complete moron—he did hire you—but you just…

There was nothing you could have done to salvage that meeting. Nothing you could have said or offered, but it felt like there must have been something you missed. 

You wanted to be impressive, needed to be impressive. To whom you weren’t sure, maybe everyone. The look of disgust and disapproval on the General’s face was burned into your eyelids. You simply couldn’t stand the thought of failing. 

This was the only thing you were ever actually good at. 

And you needed to be good at it, because you didn’t have anything else. 

Something wet and shameful dripped from your chin and onto the cold, metal desk. The stream continued until there was a veritable puddle forming, threatening to spill over the edge and soak your uniform trousers. What was it Hux had called you? 

Pathetic. 

Damn if you weren’t just proving him right. 

You thought sourly of Kylo Ren. He’d surely be surrounded by medical droids and basking in the light of his victory, completely unbothered by its consequences. He stood on a pedestal—the hero of the First Order, its strongest weapon, a god in his own right leading you on the path to glory—while you were swallowed up in the shadow he cast. 

Trapped in the dark trail left behind, you carried the weight of massacred planets and dead sons on your shoulders. 

And how dare you falter. 

How dare you be anything but grateful. 

That’s what all your coworkers said when you got this position. What an honor, they said. 

What an honor. 

What an honor it was to work so closely with such powerful men. 

And, gods, you had actually believed that. 

What an honor? 

What a load of shit. 

You sniffed, wiping your face and nose on your jacket sleeve. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d been screwed over, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. The least you could do was finish the report quickly. That way it could be sent off to rest in the graveyard of all the Order’s other failed alliances and you could forget it had ever happened. 

Which would give you more time to stew, more time to focus on who was truly at fault here. 

You’d known very little about Commander Ren coming into this position—and while a reluctant part of you was enamored by his strength—the more you learned, the more he enraged you. In fact, you didn’t even know what he looked like behind that ridiculous mask he insisted on wearing at all times, but that mattered very little. 

Your anger did not need a face. 

Swiftly, you typed the report, forwarded it to the appropriate recipients and went directly to your quarters. The shifts would be changing soon and you wanted to escape into sleep for a while. The cafeterias would be open when you woke up anyway. 

Something felt strange as you stripped and slid into your bunk, the hard mattress pressing into your spine. The blankets were thin and scratched painfully at your skin in the low light. Your eyes fell closed somewhat against your will, like it wasn’t quite sleep that pulled you hard into a dark unconsciousness, devoid of thought. But you didn’t have the power to resist it regardless. In seconds the room faded out into a drowsy haze and you surrendered into the comforting oblivion.

*** 

It felt like waking. 

A sort of gradual coming into existence starting from your toes and working up until you could just barely peel your eyes open. 

Your head was spinning in the way it often did when you woke up at your desk expecting to be in bed. That same, strange disorientation flitted about your brain as it registered whatever was laying underneath you was much softer and warmer than your mattress. It rose up and sunk every so often like it was breathing. Maybe it was. Certainly felt that way, considering the cool prickle of moving air on your neck. 

Everything was still black, so you concentrated on the placement of your limbs in space. You were face down. There was something large and solid squeezed between your thighs, what felt like bone under muscle pressing in when you shifted. It felt very much like a body, with arms crushing you to a massive chest, and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. That explained the warmth then. You burrowed deeper into him, breathing in the scent of mint that fanned across your face. 

After a few moments of settling, the body shifted. He dropped his head, grazing the softest, plushest, pair of lips over the shell of your ear. You shivered and his arms tightened around you, eclipsing your body in his. The lips wandered lower, ghosting across your neck and licking a wet stripe down until they reached the joining at your shoulder and nibbled at the skin. 

Like he was tasting you, drinking the tension in your bones. With every press of his lips to your flesh, you went limp and melted into the body below you. 

Long locks of hair brushed your nose as he moved, descending on the other side to suck and bite at the skin. Teeth dug in, stinging as they printed marks across your chest. 

It was so…

Familiar. 

A quiet hum escaped you and was muffled by the broad expanse of torso. That made him still, made him pause, and tilt your head back by the hair. His hand cupped the whole of your skull in his palm. 

So big, so firm. 

So all encompassing. 

You couldn’t see, but you felt eyes on you—searching, though not finding. 

There was breath on your lips, and it wasn’t your own. It was sharp and clean and so close you could taste the warmth of it. The burning inside your chest and eyes was laid to rest under his scrutiny. A hand, with calloused, thick fingers ran along the curve of your jaw, clenching every now and again as though they were accustomed to such a soft touch. Used to more force. A tighter grip, a more violent purpose. 

But not here, and not now. 

You inhaled deeply, stealing some of him and hoarding it deep inside yourself. It felt warm, like his hulking body below you. 

It felt good.

It felt right. 

It felt safe.

It felt like a beginning.

His hand tensed, and tucked you back into him like his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. By degrees, your awareness faded out. Your limbs lost their physical presence and everything faded into this odd, in between space. This time it was sleep that called. So, calm, content, and willing you followed its call. 

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

[lokidrabbles]

Tea Time II (Loki x Reader)

Part One

After eons, I’ve finally completed my second part of this! Thank you all for your past support!

Loki comes to visit the reader late at night to follow up on a certain promise (Gender Neutral Reader)

Nights became lonely in your small New York abode. At this point, you were not just expecting Loki’s fluctuating company, but you eagerly were waiting for his arrival after you had managed to follow through with what he had asked long ago.

Yes, it might have been stupid and a tad artless, but you took heavy consideration into creating a melody of chamomile, raspberry, vanilla and other carefully crafted flavors for the one Prince of Asgard. After many trials and failed taste tests, you achieved in concocting a flavorful drink to easily soothe the soul. You knew damn well Loki would criticize it to no end, commenting on how ‘bland’ it must taste. However, simply having him keep you company was a reward in itself.

You mentally smacked yourself. Pathetic. You were acting like a high schooler, overflowed with hormones and stricken with puppy love. You cursed at Loki from the beyond as well. His unexpected and prolonged absence caused you to grow wistful and yearning for his presence. In all honesty, it was only a few weeks. Yet, for the first time in a long time, you noticed how lonely you had actually been when he wasn’t around. With Loki there, exchanging banter and demeaning your ‘mortality’, at least you had some type of company.

You mentally smacked yourself again. Stop. Get a damn dog and get over it.

You figured he must have been sent on some assignment or mission. Or have traveled to another realm or planet. Probably far and long away from New York.

It couldn’t be helped.

---

No one should be woken up this way at 4:00 am.

A loud thundering crackle, loud enough to shake all of the homes and buildings in your block, jolted you awake, heart heavily pounding in fear. Bright, rainbow colored lights flashed from right outside your window, sending a loud ringing in your ears. You immediately covered them with the palm of your hands, eyes dashing back and forth in utter panic. What in the world-

The sudden halt of the otherworldly phenomena stopped with an lingering echo, and you swore you heard a faint thud right outside your door. Then, silence.

You could only hear your shallow breaths as you awaited for something.

A doorbell ring.

You remained seated in your bed, analyzing whether you were in the middle of a bad dream or if in fact, someone had just rung door bell in the dead of night.

The doorbell rang again, repeatedly, with much frustration in each ring. A strange feeling hit you. There was an insanely high hunch towards who was right at your front door, and your lips began to twitch at the notion.

You sprang and scurried over to your door, as hastily as someone who had just been woken up could. As you unlocked and opened your door, a familiar sight presented itself. Indeed, this must have been some dream.

“Good morning!”

There before you stood the infamous Asgardian prince, unrealistically chipper, waving his hand swiftly to offer a brief greeting.

A million thoughts ran in your head, mostly trying to process whether Loki was actually standing in front of you or whether you were still having an extremely lucid dream. You stood, mouth agape, unable to fully put together a sentence.

“What? Surprised to see me dear?” He said, smirk plastered on his face.

“Loki?” Loki!” Your eyes became large and wide, as if reality hit you just this split second. “Are you kidding me? You wanna wake up the whole damn neighborhood?”

“Ah, travel through the Bifrost is always a tad loud. Didn’t think it would cause that much ruckus.” He feigned innocence, probably knowing damn well it would cause you to be on your toes.

“What do you want? It’s very late.” You asked while rubbing your eyes.

“Why are you always so rude, aren’t you going to invite me in?” His arms were crossed while he tapped his foot irksomely.

“Oh, pardon me, I usually don’t have multidimensional teleportation bullshit things wake me up at 4 AM!” You whispered loudly.

“Well, aren’t you glad I woke you up early then?” His smug tugged at you gruesomely. Loki nonchalantly made his way into your doorway, taking in the scowl on your face with much satisfaction.

“What can I possibly do for you at this time of the night?” You retorted sardonically, locking your door behind you.

“Ah, just thought I’d had a quick stop to wind down before I have to return to report to that fool Stark. As much as it is assuring these Avengers aren’t going to throw me prison, its a bore having to be around them.”

Loki comically flopped himself onto your couch, kicking his legs up onto your coffee table in total comfort. Who’s being rude again?

“How tragic.” The sarcasm was deep in your response. “So instead of following through with your community service you wanna play hooky with a half-awake human.”

He wagged his finger towards you. “Not just that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little promise to me.”

Of course you knew exactly what he was insinuating, but you weren’t willing to admit you had waited day after day once you had completed your stupid little tea project.

“What are you on about?” You feigned.

“Don’t jest with me (Y/N), I know you’ve prepared something for me.”

This was something new to you. In the number of times Loki had come to invade your privacy he never displayed this level of playfulness. His voice was sugary sweet and it traveled through the air and into your heart. Magic perhaps, or maybe he was just messing with you.

You sighed. “Give me a bit so I can boil some water. But after that, you need to let me sleep.”

“Oh, and some pastries or sweets would be nice as well.” He hummed, leaning on your sofa and placing his hands behind his head.

You felt your eyebrow twitch. “You want me to rub your feet as well?”

“That won’t be necessary at all dear. Perhaps till next time.”

You rubbed your temples, again, attempting to piece everything together and understanding just what the God demands of you. Firstly, because you were beyond irritated at his bold assumption you’d be waiting hand and foot for his arrival even in the dead of night. Secondly, because he assumed right.

“You literally traveled at light speed just to bother me I bet.” You muttered, making your way into your kitchen to just do exactly what he had expected.

---

You meticulously placed a small spoonful of the mixture of dry leaves in a strainer, plopping it accordingly in a teacup of steaming water. For a minute, you lost yourself watching the flavors seep out into the water, stuck on the thought of how Loki had literally just returned from outer space, possibly from another planet or realm.

And his first stop was here, your home.

You understood how vulnerable Earth had become, and how other worldly threat could literally happen at any point. You supposed part of the ‘responsibility’ Loki had on Earth was to ensure it, along with the other realms, were in balance and safe from harm. The details would still perplex you, but it was better to leave that to the actual super heroes.

However, the thought of Loki traveling far, far away to face danger and risk his life bummed you out completely. It sucked, but he had managed to become at least a little something to look forward to during these past months. The loneliness was becoming incredibly overrated, and a part of you felt Loki was just as lonely too.

“Someone in your thoughts?”

You slightly jumped as Loki intruded on your thought process.

“Uh, no. I’m just still half-asleep. No thanks to you.”

“Ah, I was actually thinking you had fallen asleep over here in your kitchen. You were taking a while.” He said as a matter of fact, seating himself in one of your kitchen chairs.

“You know after this, let’s just make a house rule to have no visits anytime after 10pm, hows that?” You grumbled, knowing your irritation only fueled him even further.

He chuckled. “Very well, you have my word.”

You set the tea steaming cup on your small serving tray, along with some expired graham crackers you managed to dig out from the back of your cupboard.

“M’lord.” You bowed absurdly, kneeling in front of the prince and offering him his second rate tea and stale crackers.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t appreciate the satire here. But thank you my loyal servant.”

The moment of truth. You sat across the table from him, watching closely, ready to expect the absolute worse to happen. You were actually a little proud of what you had developed for him, and it would have made your entire day (morning?) if he ended up enjoying it.

You twiddled your fingers under the table, watching the God take a gently sip of the warm drink. You inched in even closer, your eyesight focusing on any notable sign of disapproval on his face, maybe on his eyebrows or on his lips. You felt your heart beat slightly increase, the adrenaline waking you up.   What was this feeling? Anxiety. Dread. The worst of the worst would absolutely happen.

He looked up at you and almost spat out his tea. Not because it tasted horrible, in fact, it was quite good, but because you looked like a lunatic with your eyes wide open and hair frizzed up, and a look of extreme concentration even he couldn’t match. You looked ridiculous. It was hilarious, indeed.

He coughed, holding back his laughter. He could have almost choked and died, but was able to swallow before any other damage could be done.

“(Y/N), you can’t look at me like that.” You pouted, all the energy dropping from your face. “If you don’t like it you don’t gotta be mean about it.” You swore you were about to cry.

“No, no. It’s not that.” He said hesitantly, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s just you...look absolutely deranged watching my every move.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Oh, pardon me. I usually spruce up before I’m scared awake at 4 in the fucking morning.”

He wagged his finger at you. “No need to use that foul language. But yes, sprucing up would be nice.”

The mischievous and quick witted nature would always best you in some way.

“Whatever.”

Loki took another sip while you mused over the efficacy of having him around. “The tea is delicious, I give you that. Nothing compared to that dreadful stuff you gave me last time.”

You felt your insides start to burn up. There was an immense weight lifted from your shoulders, and you felt a great sensation of what was...happiness. This is what had unfortunately created a longing for Loki.

It wasn’t just about filling a void or filling a space so you wouldn’t feel lonely anymore. Plenty of others had presented themselves to you with prospects to start a relationship or something along those lines, but none like him. There was genuineness in these moments, in his voice,  and in these conversations. Sure, he was the God of Mischief and Lies, and this should have given you a sense of wariness with him, but you weren’t completely stupid about it. Loki was as interesting and as real as you would have wanted someone to be. Something like this, sharing tea at 4 in the morning in your sleeping gear, was a moment to cherish.

And he was unbelievably handsome as well.

You both spend a couple of minutes talking about tea flavors and such, comparing your favorite against his favorite and continuing to berate him for intruding in your home at an ungodly hour after spending weeks away without any sort of notice. Loki assured you there was not much to ponder about his travels across space and dimensions. He described it as a dull experience since he had to restrain himself from parting away with ‘protocols’ and such. However, he did go off on a tangent about Tony Stark and his hate for being referred to as ‘reindeer games.’ You admitted he looked quite adorable when he was visibly irked.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, now that you’‘re here.” You began. You assumed the feel of the room wouldn’t indicate anything more suggestive, but you were curious about it for a while.

“Hmm?” He arched an eyebrow, taking another quick sip of his cup.

“Seeing as you stop by at my home unwarranted for, a couple of times now, am I like, under surveillance by the Avengers or something now?”

This was actually an issue you wanted to avoid. Under no circumstances was it ever a good thing to have the Avengers interrogate you or put you in a witness protection program.

“Oh dear.” He muttered, a crooked smile forming on his face. “Is this of concern to you? I could stop if you wanted me to.” “Oh jeez! Am I in trouble?” You asked, genuinely concerned. The last thing you needed was Tony Stark and company on your butt.

Loki rolled his eyes. “No, they don’t have you under surveillance. I don’t believe they know you exist at this point, unless I were to say something on the matter.”

“That’s a relief.” You reply. “To be honest, that’s the only thing that has me on edge. I wouldn’t like to have to confront any of them.”

“Believe me, aside from the amazing super human abilities, there’s nothing particularly interesting about them. I only tolerate and put on a facade for my brother, but its quite a chore.”

“Well that ruins the expectations, huh?” You mused, and he shrugged. You both remained quiet for a minute or so, an unnerving question tugging at you until you budged. “Well, now that I got you here, why do you keep coming here?”

He looked up at you once again, his face expressionless and unnerving. You instantly regretted asking.

“I like coming here.” He stated simply. The look on your face suggested you were unconvinced however, and he continued. “Not a lot of  people particularly enjoy my company. This much should be obvious to you.” He replied, some seriousness in his voice.

“Hmm. Well, believe or not, I actually happen to enjoy your company despite the stress you put me through.”

This was true. You shamelessly admitted to yourself a long time ago. You’d never blatantly voice this out to him, but you realized Loki wasn’t stupid, and he probably knew very well you were attracted to him. What he thought of this however? You were terrified to even think about it.

Still, for him to keep showing up to simply drink your makeshift tea? There was a speck of hope within you that, he too, actually enjoyed your company as well.

“Is that so?” He asked devilishly. “Truly a mistake on your part then.”

You shrugged casually. “Maybe so, still haven’t been proven wrong either.”

Loki leaned his back towards the back of the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, and wicked smile cast over his lips.

“You might want to hold onto those words, human. Not wise on your part to act so comfortably around the God of Mischief.”

“Hmm. Maybe so.” You replied playfully. “Not wise on your part then to be hanging with a human.”

You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by this, but you wanted to beat him at his own wits somehow. He was right despite everything thought. It wasn’t wise on your part to be spending time with him in such an intimate setting.

Right?

“This is true. Yet, I happen to like you unlike most humans.”

Okay. This was an answer you we’re not expecting. Literal record scratch. And to your displeasure and Loki’s ego, you showed it naturally on your face. Cheeks bright red and lips quivering.

Loki’s eyes widened with a suggestive sparkle, teeth bared widely at the anticipation. You knew you had royally fucked up now.

“Oh! Now I see! Does this human perhaps have a fancy to me?”

Oh god. Oh fuck.

Oh dear lord.

You groaned loudly, burying your face into your hands knowing you weren’t capable of looking at him straight in his face anymore. Everything had been spread out openly.

“You need to stop, and leave right now. This isn’t fun anymore.” You muttered through your fingers.

Your ears caught a low chuckle coming from his chest. He had caught you, and there was very little chance of survival now.

“Oh, but it is very, very fun for me. I am just thrilled at the possibilities now, my dear (Y/N).”

You swore there must have been some type of spell he had cast on you. The mention of your name, with the enhancement of dear before it, simply dripped with some type of cruel teasing and seduction. And being a human as such, it felt horribly irresistible.

It made you feel like an absolute fool.

“Why would you even say something like that to me?” You whispered softly, a hint of resentment in your voice. You cursed at your heart for beginning to spasm out of control. You continued to hide your face in your hands, shutting your eyes tightly, wishing this was all still a very distressing dream. You heard shifting, the scraping sound of a chair moving across the linoleum, and the padding of footsteps coming towards you.

You felt long, slender fingers circle around your fists and then grip them softly. Loki’s hands felt cold, but welcoming at the same time. He tugged at them, urging you to pull your hands away from your sheepish face. You wanted to pull against him, hide in your shame forever, have him leave and never return from outer space. This was the best case scenario, but there wasn’t a way for you to avoid this in its entirety. You gave in however, and allowed his hands to pull yours away.

“Human, look at me.”

You opened your eyes, squinting at the brightness in your kitchen, and then fully focusing on him. He was there, his face only inches away from your own, close enough to feel the heat coming from yours. His deep eyes looked rightly into yours, and for the first time you noticed his eyes were in fact not blue, but a beautiful emerald green.

For a moment, you imagined your lips on his.

“Something tells me you’ve been battling with yourself about this matter.” His voice was low and soft.

Your eyes veered off to the side, refraining from looking at him again and resisting the temptation to say something foolish. “Maybe. Don’t flatter yourself.”

"Hmm?” He hummed quizzically. “I am quite flattered however. Usually it’s my brother who woos most of the Midgardian horde. Finally, someone has a more refined taste in men.”

“I can’t believe this is what you’re getting out of this.” You chuckled, slowly pulling your hands away from his. You figured you couldn’t continue hiding it for any longer, so might as well tread through it boldly.

“This can’t continue being unaddressed however. So naturally, I need to take care of this matter.” He mentioned, rubbing his chin in deep contemplation. “Say what-”

“Ah. Wait.” He interrupted, putting a finger on your mouth to shush you. “Hmm. Bare with me, this is new territory I’m stepping in. I don’t want to, uh, how do you say, ruin the moment?”

You smacked his hand away. “Hey seriously, don’t play this game with me if you’re taking it as a joke. That’s just cruel.”

You didn’t need this, for Loki to take this so non-nonchalantly and play you for an idiot. What a terrible way to take advantage of your vulnerable position.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Why would I take this as a joke? You know just because I am mischievous like the texts say, doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend matters like this.”

“Because.” You paused, holding back the wave of dread hitting you. “I know...there’s like...no chance.”

There it was. The cruel reality.

Loki, prince of Asgard was a God. He has lived for over a thousand years, traveled a myriad of realms and worlds, encountered incredible foes and adversaries. Loki, master of magic and combat, trickster and genius. Loki, no men were like him. And no human could ever reach towards him.

“What in the Nine Realms are you on about?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean. And for real this time, I think you should leave.” And never ever come back.

You heard a disapproving tsk come from him, but you knew yourself better than to continue hoping for the unimaginable. It wasn’t you being a mope or giving up easily, but just being realistic and safe in the manner. Maybe you could continue as friends in some way, which would give you enough time to bury away any unwarranted feelings. Loki was trouble, and in a whole other playing field.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” You began to pull yourself upwards from the chair, oblivious to the large, gold and horned helm flying straight down on your head.

THUNK

You jolted back down, almost losing balance from the chair. You turned immediately upwards, and your arms and hands jolted up to feel the object now placed on your head. It was heavy, made of metal,cold, and there were two very familiar protruding horns coming out the front side. This was unmistakably...

“Jesus Chri- what is this!” You screeched.

Loki crossed his arms, a very amused look appearing all over his face. “My helm of course. You are borrowing it.”

You shot him a rather nasty look. “Come again?”

“You heard me. Since you want me to leave, I will. But since you’re borrowing this, just know I’ll need to come back for it.”

You took a moment yet again to put all the words together and process what came out of his mouth. Your head wobbled however, the weight of the helm preventing you from forming a concise thought pattern. “Uh...fine.”

You took off the golden helm, placed it on the table and guided him towards the door. You averted your gaze as much as you could, holding against any little temptation to  say or do something completely thoughtless and stupid. The thought remained in the air despite this, and there wasn’t anything definitive answer about what had been discovered. Loki knew you really liked him now, and he would more than likely milk it as much as he could. Was this reciprocated however? Who knew.

“Thank you again for the hospitality. Please do take care of my helm for me, it holds some sentimentality.” He placed his hand over his chest, causing you to roll your eyes far into your head.

“I can’t promise anything.” You retorted, opening your door and motioned outwards. “Now, please leave so I can wallow in misery alone.”

“It wasn’t all that bad, don’t be dramatic.”

“Easy for you to say, your feelings weren’t entirely exposed today.” There was bitterness in your voice. Not towards him, but towards yourself. There must have been a better way to have handled this, and yet, this was bound to end with a sour taste in your mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupi-

The same slender, cold hands holding your wrists earlier now cupped your face tenderly, and they pulled you upwards and close towards the pair of pale and thin lips you had been admiring from afar the entirety of the time. Desperately, you pushed against Loki, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer to you. Your lips were severely hungry and they became too excited, asking for more. You both exchanged exasperated kisses back and forth for what seemed like eternity, until he halted and hesitantly pulled away.

“Not so eagerly yet.” He said lowly in huffs. His eyes were glued to yours, which had become watery and hazy.  “Savor it for a bit more. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

A whine escaped your mouth. “Don’t stop.”

He chuckled and savored the moment for himself. “If I don’t stop, I won’t be able to control myself. Like I said, I don’t want to ruin it.”

You bit your lip, wanting to give in fully into the experience, but you listened instead. He was right. You both would be moving too quickly without looking at the situation from afar. You slowly released your grasp around him, edging backwards to ensure you wouldn’t jump all over him involuntarily. Maybe it would have been better if he had never kissed you at all.

“What now?” You asked.

“You’ll wait until I return, and perhaps we’ll talk about this to clarify some things.” He placed his hand on your cheek, squeezing it gently. He felt you lean into it and slowly pulled his hand back, leaving you wanting even more.

“You’re going to be away for weeks again.” You complained. He smirked. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of answering that.”

He flicked your forehead. “Stupid human. I won’t be gone for too long, I promise.”

And for the first time throughout the whole night, you beamed. A smile formed over your face, as authentic as Loki could ever imagine it to be. One could have argued you both complicated things even further by taking it to this extent. There would always be some negative implications with forming a relationship with a super, or in this case, a being from another world. But this was shoved far into the back of your head, and Loki’s as well. For now, it was all about enjoying the present and whatever time you both could forge together. You felt happy with Loki, and he began to feel a new sense purpose within him.

[pauldron-pieces]

Perdita 'Aurelezra' Gentle's Backstory: From Elsewhere

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Perdita-Centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Perdita Gentle. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets.

Applicable trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: The Little Mermaid Score: Bedtime and sleepmakeswaves: One Day You Will Teach Me To Let Go Of My Fears

[Perdita Gentle is a Warforged celestial warlock utilizing the Pact Of The Bastion homebrew, and her appearance can be found here!]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including vivid depictions of violence and brief mentions of character death. Stay safe!]

It came from elsewhere...

Amidst the hail of shooting stars peppering the landscape from the tail of the near-passing comet, something else arrived.

It was frail, fragile, spindly fingers clawing for purchase on the walls of the crater it emerged from. It did not make it much further than that, and it was discovered the following morning by two children surveying the damage in their family's garden.

Between the two of them, they propped it up, marveling at the chipped red gilding that coated its limbs. It stirred and they fled in a panic, running back towards the large house and calling for their parents.

×+×

Brand stared down at the crumpled mess of Warforged on his front terrace, an eyebrow raised. His two young children danced around his legs, alternating between pulling him forward and tugging him back. "This is the cause of all the fuss? This?" He asked incredulously.

"It moved by itself!"

"Aye, just as you move by yourself." The former captain commented dryly, ruffling his daughter's hair and utterly destroying the complex tangle of braids her mother had labored over. "You two lubbers have seen Warforged before, or have you forgotten?"

"Testin doesn't look like that!" His son protested. "Testin has a face!"

"You know how your hair is different from mine, pup? And how your sister's nose is less prodigious than this beak I sport? Warforged have such varied traits as well."

The head on the thing looked like an old Thanatonaut relic, just a smooth dome. It also bore archaic equipment for off-Flow navigation on the inside of its arms. Brand heaved out a sigh, smoothing a finger over his brown mustache in a meditative manner.

"Well, we can't just leave 'em out here. Ceere, have your mother ring Testin. And you, Kamer, are going to help me settle this poor rattler into one of our chairs out here." Brand rolled his eyes at how pale his son went, while Ceere stuck her tongue out at him. "Oi, chit, stop taunting your brother. Now shoo, and make sure your mother knows to tell Testin that it's important!"

×+×

Brand Gentle had made his fortune in his younger years as the eventual captain on a deep-space excavation platform. He had seen many odd things in his day, unearthed strange and unusual artifacts from times long gone by. Thanatonaut helms that predated mankind's fumbling into Flow travel, monoliths to terrible and forgotten powers; the refuse of man's advance into the stars.

Yet he had never seen anything quite like this. A Warforged birthed of a meteor, trimmed in battered red and gold like the veils of the Vespertine Order.

The former captain sat on his patio across from the mysterious Warforged, finally leaning forward in his chair after he collected his thoughts. "What is your name?" He asked quietly.

The thing ticked and whirred, and a hoarse voice answered, "I have no designation." A female voice.

Brand sighed heavily. He should have known it wouldn't be so straightforward. Beside him, Testin Awe cleared his throat. "Think back. Can you remember what happened before you woke in the Gentle's prize rose garden?" The hulking Warforged's tone was dry, blue eyes darting to Brand when he touched upon the sensitive subject. Brand was exceedingly protective of his roses.

More ticking. "Darkness." An odd shimmy of mechanics long unused as she tipped her head to the side. "I fell."

"I bet you did." Testin replied, then muttered under his breath, "Captain, she's battier than the Bakhroma Green."

Brand waved him off, giving the faceless Warforged across from him a tight smile. She cocked her head to the side again, and he got the unsettling feeling that he was being studied.

"I hurt your flowers. How can I fix them?" She queried.

Brand blinked. Testin, despite lacking an actual throat, seemed quite intent on clearing it today.

×+×

Calling her Perdita seemed to be a given. She was lost, constantly, wandering the grounds of the Gentle estate at all hours of the night and day. She had no physical needs, as was the custom of her race, so Brand saw no harm in her roving. She certainly didn't seem malicious, just curious in a blunt way.

Libertia, Brand's wife, took an odd shine to the spacey automaton. The former captain often found the woman chatting to her, trying to help her expand her ability for speech. Perdita was minimalist in her words, though she did eventually begin to speak more as the years passed.

Testin thought Perdita was a bit touched. "Still a little battle-rattle in that one." He had remarked privately to Brand, his craggy face oddly sympathetic for a Warforged. "Hard to shake sometimes."

Brand knew better than most folk that Warforged were more than adequate matches for their fleshy counterparts, and he took everything his old first mate told him as gospel. Testin was in agreement with Brand that the red and gold Warforged was decidedly not a threat.

"She just likes the flowers?" Testin asked suddenly one evening as he and Brand sat on the terrace. Brand nodded lazily, the smoke from his cheroot cigar twirling and arching through the air. "I don't get it, but...well, I guess you did have a penchant for gathering up the misfits." The gray-green Warforged allowed, his sidelong grin making Brand chuckle. "She's happy here, y'know. She mentioned it to me earlier. She thinks she's helping when you let her trim the bushes." His laughter was a rusty noise.

"She loves talking with Lib. Er, with may not be the right term. My wife could talk the legs off a table." Brand smiled fondly and Testin rolled those glowing blue eyes.

"Have you heard from Kamer at all?" The large Warforged changed the subject, frowning when the former captain sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure I should have sent him away for his schooling. What with the Empire gaining ground steadily, I'm uncertain how long the boarding schools will be safe."

"Hey, Kamer's smart. You know that. That kid won't get himself tangled up in anything. Besides, what the hell would the Empire want with a kid who's sole aspiration is to be an architect?" Testin tilted his head. "Now, Ceere-"

"Don't remind me, she's apprenticed to the Facturers now. Hopefully, by the grace of the gods, she'll put her tinkering tendencies to good use and stop destroying my beautiful skiffs." Brand groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"I mean, she's got great potential. Engine ripped itself apart in three different places."

"I'm well aware, you mechanical menace. It was my favorite Screamer class!"

×+×

Libertia was the one to suggest that Perdita consider taking up the habit of the Vespertine Order.

"You seem at peace whenever you come with me to chapel, Perdie." She commented one afternoon over tea. Brand raised an eyebrow at his wife, then glanced at the featureless automaton across the way. "Have you ever thought about joining the convent?" Libertia queried.

Perdita hummed thoughtfully. "I like the chapel. It's quiet. Makes me feel like I can stop moving." She offered a shrug. "I know I'm not...quiet." She was a much older model than Testin and her body tended to rattle or squeak at odd intervals.

"You don't feel like you can be still here?" Brand asked curiously.

"I am restless." The Warforged admitted quietly. "Some things help. The garden. The chapel."

Brand grunted, settling back in his chair and lapsing into thought. The Vespertine sisters were a formidable bunch, for all that they resided on this backwater planetoid. They seemed to have their proverbial fingers in a multitude of pies. He wasn't sure if he trusted them with his Perdie.

His mustache quirked up in a wry grin, realizing that he was thinking of the Warforged like she was one of his own children. "Do what you think is best, Perdie. Perhaps the quiet will help you sort yourself out. Gods know we tithe enough to the church, maybe in exchange for our continued generosity they'll accept someone a little less fleshy than their usual ranks."

He got the faintest impression that Perdita was beaming at him, her whole body haloed with a strange golden light. But Brand blinked and the light was gone. He shook his head at himself, vowing not to spike his afternoon tea so strongly next time.

×+×

When the Empire came to the planet years later, they struck without warning.

Evening prayer had just finished, the last fleeting rays of sunlight peering through the simple leaded glass windows of the chapel. Perdita sat docile in the pew, her head bowed beneath her veil.

"It makes me glad to know that you've found some sort of peace and purpose." Brand commented, the now-elderly man ambling up alongside her. "Never put much faith in this church business, myself. Give me the Flow and a nimble craft and I'm a content man."

"Captain." She inclined her head. She had heard his sentiment many times before.

"I'm surprised you haven't gone out to chart the world, my dear. Your cartographer's gear will get rusty!" The former captain teased, settling down into the pew and patting her arm. "Surely, the Vespertine sisters ought to be spread?"

"It is dangerous." Perdita sighed. "I am trying. The Ferrarium Empire-"

"Bah, belay that codswallop here." Brand groused. "Bunch of nobles in stuffed shirts with too many guns and not enough good sense. Stole my good boy away and turned him into a simpering buffoon." He bowed his head, touching his thumb to his left cheek and then his sternum. "Thank the gods his mother passed on before he made that terrible choice."

An odd whistling caught his attention, and Brand cocked his head. His hearing had been shot for years, maybe he was imagining the sound-

The windows abruptly exploded inwards as an impact rocked the ground. Sisters scurried this way and that in panic, their veils fluttering like butterfly wings as they ushered the last few stragglers out of the structure. Brand, his ears still ringing from the first bombardment, felt a second one strike outside. Perdita was stiff, unmoving in the pew, so he seized her hand and made haste for the doorway.

"Perdie, we cannot linger in this place!" He tried to snap her out of it, her deceptively-heavy form slowing their flight. "It's the Empire, Perdie, we have to--" Through the haze of dust rising, the former captain caught sight of a massive dreadnought's keel flying low overhead. Rage burned at his soul; why would they come here of all places? This was a planet of agriculture, not manufacturing!

Perdita tilted her head, and Brand knew that she must have noticed the ship. "What is that?" She asked, her voice ticking up slightly in query.

"That is something that should not have turned its eye upon us!" Brand snapped. "Why the devil would they-" There was shouting up ahead, and scattered pistol fire. "Martyr's malfeasance," the elderly man swore, "I ought to have known."

The Inquisitors had arrived, bearing overpowered arms and causing chaos as was their want. Brand managed to slip around the edge of the advancing line, searching the crowds for Testin's large form. His old first mate was nowhere to be seen and Brand's heart sank.

An Inquisitor loomed up out of the smoke in front of them, halting the former captain in his tracks. "Identify yourself, civilian." The armored man droned.

"Or what? You've already blown the chapel and convent to pieces!" Brand spat. "What could the Ferrarium Empire possibly want from a sleepy little colony planet?"

The Inquisitor's baton met the side of the elderly man's head with a dull thud, felling him with ease.

×+×

Brand started awake, hacking and wheezing as he inhaled ash. He sat up, ignoring the throbbing of his head. Where is-

"Perdita!" He yelled, struggling to his feet and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Perdie, where are you?"

The cobblestones underfoot had been broken and scattered by the mortaring, making the footing uncertain. The former captain stumbled forward over the rubble, continuing to call for the Warforged.

A shimmer of red and gold flickered through the hellish smoke up ahead, and he fancied it might be her habit. His suspicions proved correct as her frail form solidified out of the clouds of billowing dust and ash.

"Perdita!" Brand exclaimed gladly.

She turned slowly at the sound of his voice, that damned veil still flapping fitfully in the turbulent air. Beneath the gauzy shroud where her domed head was, the former captain saw something blaze to life. Eyes, hundreds of them, glowing through the fabric. Brand stopped in his tracks, uncertain of what he was seeing. That blow to the head must have rattled him, now he was hallucinating!

Her hand pressed to her chest over the long habit. "I am the bastion." Perdita said calmly, as though they weren't being bombarded by low-flying aircraft. "I am Vespertine, I am Alizarin, I am reborn. My name is Aurelezra, and I fell to defend."

A shell plummeted from the sky and with a single motion, she obliterated it. One moment it was there, the next, she simply pointed at it and a shimmering golden manifestation that resembled an enormous rose blossom appeared directly in its path. The shell struck it, the impact sending foiled shrapnel flitting listlessly to the ground.

Brand was wholly bewildered. The only other time he had witnessed such power was when-

The thousands of eyes swiveled to stare at him, blinking rapidly. Brand swallowed hard. "What did those blasted nuns do to you, Perdie?" He asked, his voice so low he wasn't sure if she would hear it over the pandemonium.

Perdita tipped her head to the side, those eyes writhing and teeming nauseatingly over one another, flickering through the habit in a way that made Brand exceedingly glad she was wearing it. "I am the bastion." She repeated. She sounded hideously serene. "I am Alizarin."

Rifle reports barked through the air and Perdita turned towards the noise, setting off over the debris with sure steps. "Wait, Perdie!" Brand protested, fumbling after her as best as he could. "Perdie, are you mad? These are Inquisitors, you can't just..." He trailed off as he watched her simply walk through the line of gunfire. "Or perhaps you can." He muttered.

A strange golden haze shone around her body and every time a bullet struck the haze, a malevolent eye roiled to the surface to fix the attacker with a blazing stare. More shells rained down and each one was foiled or thrown off-target by shimmering, sunset-hued roses, blossoming riotously to life in midair like some grand fireworks display at a midsummer fair.

"Captain!" That was Testin's voice, thank gods. The elderly man turned this way and that, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally spotted the towering mass that was Testin.

"Testin my boy, you're a sight for sore eyes!" Brand said with a wry grin, taking in the small cluster of nuns that were teeming anxiously in the shadow of the massive automaton. Among them was the Mother Superior, her black veil a stark contrast to the usual red. "You've got some explaining to do, woman! What the hell have you done to my Perdie?" Brand thundered, itching to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"Sister Perdita has spent many, many hours reading the scriptures and studying our texts, Captain Gentle." The woman replied, almost infuriatingly calm. "She was brought to this planet for a specific reason."

"What are you on about? Look at her! It's like she's possessed!" The elderly man shouted.

"She has become more, Captain. A vessel for something that we mere mortals have only glimpsed. Alizarin, the Red Saint."

"There's a thousand blasted eyes all over her and she's sending out starbursts of roses that intercept cannon fire!" Brand roared. "I'll only ask once more, what have you done to her?"

"She willingly accepted this power, Captain. I suggest you calm yourself. I know you do not believe or trust in the power of the Red Saint, but Sister Perdita does." The matron retorted haughtily. "And when Libertia was alive-"

"Keep my wife's name out of your mouth." Brand snarled, his hand instinctively twitching down towards his hip for the piece he had carried in his younger years.

"Easy now, Cap." Testin intoned, raising a hand. "Easy."

"You planned this from the start." Brand accused the woman, a sick sense of realization blossoming in his gut. "You put the idea in Libertia's head, didn't you? Why Perdie?"

"Warforged make excellent vessels." The Mother Superior said simply.

Testin rumbled in threat overhead, one large hand settling heavily on the woman's shoulder. "I suggest you choose your next words very carefully." The Warforged paladin's tone was one of extreme irritation. "Unless you'd like to find out how bad of a vessel I can be."

"She has become a warlock of exceptional power." The woman hurriedly continued. "The Red Saint is pleased with our offering, and he will-"

"The Red Saint, aye? Unwilling martyr himself." Brand scoffed. "You've gone and turned my girl into a nightmare for the glory of that flayed demagogue."

"A nightmare that can go toe-to-toe with Inquisitor gunsmithing." The Mother Superior shot back smugly. "You knew as well as I did that it was only a matter of time before the Ferrarium Empire turned their gaze to the Fringes. Their grasping for resources is ceaseless."

"As interesting as your bickering is, we're wasting time." Testin growled, gesturing vaguely forwards. "She's gaining on their dreadnought. We following her?"

×+×

Everything was so loud.

"It is time, Aurelezra." His voice was like smoke, like whispers. He drew her attention upwards to the ship, He guided her hands as she wove the spell and He found her the suitable target. "They will not take this planet. They will never take again."

Perdita nodded shakily, power dripping and sparking from her fingers. "Never again."

"You have done well, Aurelezra. You easily outstrip the mortals." He praised as she raised her hands. "I shall do such wonders through you."

×+×

Without warning, a bolt of red light shot from Perdita's hands and arced up at the command ship. Testin swore loudly, the Warforged's face twisting into an approximation of a grimace. "Oh, that's not good." He said hoarsely, leaving the cluster of nuns behind as he moved forward.

"What, what's happened?" Brand asked frantically, trying to keep up.

"That was something that uh, I wouldn't have used. A little too spicy for me." The Warforged grunted, readying the hand cannon integrated in his left forearm. His heavy, elephantine feet easily crushed the rubble beneath him, clearing the way for the former captain. "If everyone on that ship isn't dead after that spell hits..."

"What?" Brand gasped.

Testin shook his head mournfully, not finishing that trail of thought. "We need to figure out where the ship will go down. Figure out whether we can break it apart ahead of time or whether your Perdie has a few more Red Saint tricks up that veil." Testin's sigh was heavy. "I'm sorry, Captain."

The command ship began rapidly losing altitude, listing slightly to the right. Perdita pursued it doggedly and Brand watched her raise her hands again. "Perdie!" He shouted, heartened when she paused. "Stop, Perdie!"

"Stay put!" Testin yelled, then said, "Cap, either get onboard or get left behind, we don't have time for your old bones."

Brand growled something uncharitable about his former first mate, then swung up onto the pro-offered arm.

Testin sprinted forward, easily catching up to the waifish Perdita and grabbing her around the waist with one massive hand. "I'd like to shake the marbles clean out of your chest right now, but we don't have time for me to be pissed off at you." Testin snarled at her, still at his full sprint. "You got anything else in that arsenal of yours, or are you gonna' let that ship crush someone's farm?"

"I can do it."

"What, exactly?"

Perdita pointed upwards at the ship and simply said, "shatter." A massive golden rose exploded into being on the keel, blowing a hole in the hull the size of the town square. Splinters and beams rained down, Testin barely managing to dodge a few of the larger chunks.

"Martyr's malfeasance, you're a menace!" The larger Warforged said in disbelief, the cannon in his left arm whirring to life as the ship sank within his range. "I mean, keep it up, but saint's blood you are an absolute terror." His cannon glowed, shoulder tight when he fired and sent the projectile rocketing upwards to erupt in a radiant blast. "Not fancy, but any port in a storm." He huffed, trying to chamber another round without releasing Perdita.

"There's so much." Perdita was shaking in Testin's grip. Molten gold trailed from her fingertips and every eye that shone through the veil was wide open.

Brand clambered across Testin's shoulders, the elderly man reaching out so he could grab one of her hands. "Listen to me, Perdie." He said loudly, trying to make sure she could hear him over the rapidly-approaching creak of timbers and warning system alarms. "You've got some kind of hellfiring power now, right?"

Perdita nodded slowly. "He's so loud." She breathed, and Brand knew with crushing certainty that she wasn't talking about himself or Testin.

"Aye, I'm sure he is. But if he wants to have you as his vessel, he needs to understand that you're the captain." Brand reasoned fiercely. "You bite back at that freeloader and you tell him you're the damned captain, you hear me girl?!"

×+×

I'm the captain.

Perdita clung to the thought, staggering through the red haze of her subconscious.

I'm the captain.

Alizarin nodded in acquiescence. "That you are, Aurelezra. For now. For this moment. What will you do?" He chuckled. "You are unfamiliar with such power. You have already overdrawn yourself. What will you do, Defender?"

It doesn't matter whether I'm tired. I'm the captain. Me. Not you, she thought stubbornly.

×+×

Perdita clawed her way up Testin's arm to his shoulder, the larger Warforged rumbling in confusion. "What the hell are you doing now?"

"I'm the captain." Perdita said sharply. Blast after golden blast was flung by her hand, the ship groaning under the assault. Timbers cracked and creaked like the ship was caught in a ferocious gale. "I'm the captain!" She yelled, "I'm the captain!"

The dreadnought rent itself apart at the scuppers with one final impact, briefly looking like the massive ribcage of some eldritch horror. The engines tore free of their mooring, the shriek of metal heralding doom for the trio as they plummeted downwards. Testin tried to backpedal, but he had built up such a head of steam and the engines were so enormous-

Brand fumbled to catch Perdita's hand once again, closing his eyes as he heard Testin grit out what he assumed was his final swear.

Looks like I'll be home soon, Lib.

"A Bastion for my faithful." That was not Perdita's voice. It was barely a whisper, smooth as silk and light as a favorable breeze. "Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have seen my power once before. Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have survived my power once before. Blessed shall you be, Brand Gentle, though you do not believe."

A golden dome sheathed the triumvirate of individuals, millions of eyes scattered across it opening and closing at random. Brand gripped Perdita's hand as tightly as he dared, uncertain if he was the only one seeing this...wonder.

"Fear not, Brand Gentle. She will not be harmed."

The dome vanished and Testin fairly seethed with curses, the gray-green Warforged reeling back a step from the flaming wreckage of the engine that surrounded them. A neat circle had been sheared out from the dome, the edges still molten and smoking.

"That's it. Whatever's gotten into you, I'm tearing it out of you!" the paladin announced, grappling Perdita around the waist again. "Send that cosmic bastard back to the Deep Reef where it belongs, I-" He paused when she went limp in his hold, lowering his glowing right hand after a moment. "Uh...Perdie?" He asked warily, shaking her until she rattled. "Perdie?"

"I'm the captain." She responded, her voice reedy with exhaustion. Perdita reached out to Brand, and he carefully laced his fingers through her own. "I-I'm the...captain..."

"Aye child," Brand murmured, "that you are."

×+×

The whole colony banded together to scuttle the dreadnought's bones. The Vespertine sisters made themselves marvellously useful when it came to putting the dead to rest.

Most of the ship's crew had been slaughtered by whatever Perdita had done with that spell, and the few left alive had perished on impact.

Testin had grunted in satisfaction as he surveyed the red veiled sisters scurrying to and fro in the wreckage. "I think your Perdie just fired the galaxy's largest warning shot."

"Aye." Brand had agreed wearily. "Now all that's left to see is whether the Empire will take notice."

"Their dreadnoughts aren't usually...destroyed, Captain. Once word gets back to them, all hell's going to break loose." The Warforged predicted grimly, his arms folded over his chest. "You'd better make sure she clears atmosphere before they come back around."

"I don't think I could make her stay!" The former captain chuckled. "She's always been on the move, Testin. High time she did something with all that energy."

×+×

"The Gotengo has been moored for years, Captain. You think it can still hold up?" Testin mused, poring over the old schematics.

Brand sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "It's the finest craft I have at my disposal, dusty or not. And she'll need something nimble if she's planning on trekking out there through the blockades." He meandered to the window of his study, staring down at his rose garden without actually seeing it. "I've already gotten in touch with Squire Deering, and he claims he's found a slew of candidates for her crew."

Testin snorted in disbelief. "And you trust that penny-pinching miser? Guy probably trawled through three different wharfside taverns and asked for able-bodied seamen."

"Deering may be a...bit tight fisted, but he's a good man. I have great faith that when Perdita arrives, she'll be shown nothing but courtesy." Brand assured the gray-green Warforged, stroking his mustache.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I distinctly remember that waistcoat-wearing ponce saddling you with a ship that had a rotted out mainmast." Testin deadpanned. "What did he blame it on? Moths?"

Brand coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Regardless, he will treat her right. Warforged or not, she's the captain."

"A new Captain Gentle." Testin shook his head ruefully. "Never thought I'd see the day. Bodes pretty shit for the Empire, if you ask me."

"All I hope is that she and that blooded saint first mate of hers give them hell."

[imagine-what-would-happen]

A Little Bit of Grey (Part 5 Kylo Ren Fanfiction)

Hey guys! Here is part 5! I try to update both stories every day but its been sort of a difficult time lately, I’m sorry for not updating yesterday! But I’ll be working to post a new chapter for “Since The Beginning” tonight! I hope you all enjoy! Again don’t hesitate to ask to be tagged in future instalments! Hope you all enjoy!

Warning: Mentions of blood and needles. Condescending tone against self injury. Statements of wanting to self harm/ self harming. Swearing.

Words: 1.9k+

Link to Part 4

Link to Part 6

Link to Masterlist

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kylo pulled against his restraints, he didn’t understand what was happening, he didn’t know how he got here. All he knew was that he was tied up to a cold medical bed aboard the resistance’s ship; this was all he was focusing on at the moment; anything else was just too much at the moment.

“Oh sweetie, you’re just going to hurt yourself. You’re too pretty to get yourself hurt” Neira stated in a condescending tone. She walked around the room toying with the medical supplies. It was strange seeing a supposed member of the resistance being so cold. Usually, all of them that he encountered were so warm and bright... being on the light side and all. If Kylo had assessed her based on her personality he would have pinned her for a member of the First Order.

The skin around his wrists was starting to tear, blood pushing through the irritated area. Neira was playing around with a needle, tapping it to take out the air bubbles. “So what are you planning on doing with me? Huh? You the one person on the light side who can torture me for information? Or does the resistance still not work that way?” He questioned, his eyes squeezed shut through the pain.

Neira scoffed, “Oh sweetie if you want me to hurt you, all you have to do is ask.” She smirked and winked at Kylo. He felt disgusted. She looked like Andy, sounded like her, but... it definitely wasn’t her. This wasn’t the girl he was going to leave everything else he knew for.

“Lets just cut to the chase, shall we?” She dropped the needle onto the table and walked back over to the tied up Kylo. “You want to know what happened, how I know you, where your precious girlfriend is, although... can you really call her your girlfriend?” She shrugged sarcastically. “Eh, doesn’t really matter I guess.”

Kylo looked on at the woman before him, silent, sweat dripping down him. He did want to know what happened. His head was killing him with the questions racing through his mind, he needed to know.

“Alright well..” Neira pulled a rolling stool over. “I came aboard the Supremacy around - hmmm.. I would say a few weeks after Cammie’s training began. Yeah, it was about then.” She looked over to an obviously confused Kylo. “Oh right, the time that you knew her for... she didn’t have a name... didn’t know where she was from right?” She sighed, “I’ll get to that. All you have to know is that her real name is Cammila... everyone here knows her by Cammie. But anyway, I came aboard... You know you guys really should up your security, that was way too easy.” She laughed softly as if recalling an old memory but then rolled her eyes.

“I got a few of my friends to take Cammie and I took her place, got the hang of everything fairly quickly, you guys really do have fairly basic training. No wonder your guys suck at shooting.”

Kylo was more lost than ever, looking down. If Neira... If she came aboard the Supremacy only a few weeks into Andy- Cam- ugh... the girl... if Neira came aboard the ship then... everything on the Silencer was a lie. It meant nothing, and he looked like an idiot. No wonder it had seemed so easy with her, it wasn’t real. He felt a pit in his stomach growing, he felt he would fall into it, drown in its darkness as he did so long ago when joining the First Order.

“Why doesn’t she remember her name...” Kylo whispered, trying to hold the tear that would throw him over the edge, he wanted to push his wrist more into the restrains, that pain was a hundred times better than the realization coming over him.

“It’s a new idea the resistance came up with... Cammie was one of us, she volunteered for the experiment, she said she could do it. It was fairly easy finding something that would erase her memory completely.” Neira looked down at her hands, seemingly completely unfazed by the topic at hand.

“Is she not your sister?” Kylo spat, “Don’t you care that she doesn’t know who you are? Don’t you care what you put her through?” He studied her, how could two people, two siblings be so completely different. He thought back to his mother and uncle. Sure they were different, but not to this extent.

“Of course I care,” Neira met his eyes and stood, showing her dominance. “But, its the resistance that matters, everyone’s lives are at stake here and she's the one who volunteered to do it.” Neira turned around. “I tried to talk her out of it.” She whispered, putting a hand to her arm, seeming to try to comfort herself, then in an instant turned around, “You think you know her but you don’t! You don’t know anything about her. You don’t know what makes her scream awake at night. You don’t know what her dreams are... You. Do. Not. Know. Her.” She spat every word.

“The sister you knew is gone.” Kylo retorted, “You made sure of that”. He watched her, and suddenly realized how idiotic he was. In all his confusion and storm of emotions, he hadn’t even attempted at using the Force. He had tried severely to remind himself not to use the Force on... on the girl. The fact that Neira looks exactly like her must have kept his instincts in line. The one time he should have lost control. He groaned internally. Time to show what he was made of.

“Untie me.” He whispered the words while looking directly at Neira.

“What was that..?” She asked stepping closer.

“You will untie me,” Kylo demanded in a breathy but louder voice.

Neira sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously tired of Kylo. “Kylo Ren. You may have abilities in the Force, but one thing you forget is that those mind games... they work on the weak of mind.” She touched his cheek almost sweetly. “I am so much more than that.” She pulled away and walked towards the door, hips swaying. “Goodnight you discount Sith” She called back, and then she was gone.

Kylo laid his head back and grit his teeth. What were they planning on doing with him? He tried to stretch out the cramp he was getting in his neck. What were they doing to do to the girl? He refused to call her by her previous resistance name, that wasn’t her anymore. He wasn’t even sure if it was the truth, although it would make sense why they would erase her memory. If they knew about Kylo having Force abilities, which most everyone did, he could easily read her mind and know why she was there... they would have never gotten close.

The way he felt about the girl... was it still real even if her memory was wiped, completely becoming someone else...? Would he still have fallen for the person she was before? He wasn’t even sure at this point if she had ever showed any affection for him. He felt so empty, nothing mattered now... He just wanted to get back to the Supremacy and blow up these good for nothing criminals. He bit his lip fiercely, drawing blood, the same as the first time he saw the girl.

The way she moved that day... the rage and pure force. She wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done... except for when it came to killing someone. Was that a trait she had in her old self? He sighed and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore.

The sound of something getting knocked over is what woke up the commander. He squinted, reaching to rub his eyes but then wincing at the still irritated wound and dried blood around his wrists. Fuck. He was here. It wasn’t a dream. He groaned, then letting out a breath of air he tried to look around again.

Through the bright white lights he saw a young girl at the medical station across from him. “Hold on.. I’ll be with you in just a second.” She mumbled and put some more instruments onto a trolley and began rolling it over closer to him. “Good morning Mister Ren.” She said quietly but professionally.

Kylo was quite confused. Why was such a young girl using medical equipment and why the hell did she call him mister Ren? “Uh.. Hi.” He said softly. “Who are you?” He questioned hesitantly.

“I’m your care taker...” She sat down on the rolling stool and searched for the items she needed.

“Okay, listen kid. I know you wanna play doctor but I’m actually hurt, you could cause more damage than good.” Kylo stated, he didn’t have time for this.

The girl wasn’t fazed by what he said. “First off, you can call me Doctor M. Second off, I’m the one who patches up the guys who you shoot at, and I’m the reason they get back on their feet.” She looked back up at an uneasy Kylo. “So what, kids on your planet can levitate rocks and mind control people but can’t put a bandaid on a cut? Get over yourself.”

Kylo seriously needed a reality check about the resistance. What happened to all the warm happy people? Everyone here was angry, sassy, and cold.

The girl began disinfecting Kylo’s wounds, and he couldn’t help wincing. He was so used to being spoiled by the medical facilities aboard the Supremacy, they would numb any wound before doing anything else to it. The girl chuckled softly, “You guys really are just stories aren’t you?” She looked up at him and then back down at her work.

“What do you mean?” He raised a brow.

“I mean, you guys fight with friggan lightsabers and blasters, constantly surviving battle after battle with each other and yet you’re in pain from a few cuts and bruises. I just find it funny.” She smiled. “It’s good to know the bad guys are human too.”

Kylo sighed, “You know we’re really not that bad.” The girl looked up at him with an are you kidding me look, “Okay...” He nodded at her. “I’m not that bad... hows that?” He tried.

“Well, the fact that the resistance hasn’t killed you yet, and the fact that you haven’t killed me yet would probably seem to make that statement true.” She stated matter of factly.

Kylo was more than taken aback. “Why would I kill you?” He looked down at the child.

“Maybe you’re having a bad day? Maybe you’re having a tantrum?” She shrugged. “You guys don’t ever have a real reason to kill anyone do you?” She looked up at him accusingly.

“Wha- yes we do.” He scoffed.

“Then how is it that the resistance doesn’t do that unless its in an actual battle and yet they’re still here?” The girl starred at him, he didn’t have a response. She was actually on to something, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it. “Thats what I thought” She sighed and stood up, pulling her trolley back to the station to dispose of everything.

She took a breath, leaning onto the counter with her hands stabilizing herself, “If everyone just sat down and talked everything out, maybe this war would be over even quicker than it started...” I don’t get what is so hard about it?

Kylo let out a soft sight, often enough he thought about the same. Things were far too complicated in this life.

[the-recusants-sigil]

Hello, hello! Thank you for the warm welcome!! <3 

OK so I absolutely ADORE this idea and I love writing for these four so so much!!  I couldn’t write just a couple of sentences and these turned into novel chapters, so I’m splitting your request into 4 parts. That way, I’m not just dropping a 10K word document on you asfhsfshfhsf

Here is Part 1 of your request- going numerically, that’d be Xigbar!

Thanks again for stopping by, I hope you like this one and the others to come!!

Xigbar

Words: 2388

-The mission started out simply enough. It definitely wasn't anything outlandishly difficult: just track down an overgrown Heartless, eliminate it, and report back. Absolutely no big deal.

-Except it WAS a big fuckin deal. There he was, wandering the Land of Dragons in the dead of winter, on the edge of hypothermia and certainly not thinking straight. Perhaps he was no longer capable of feeling emotions, but frostbite was another story entirely. He knew better than to RTC without finishing  a mission, so here he was,in the dark,  trudging through waist-deep dnowdrifts on a fucking mountain to find this stupid thing.

-Xigbar had been walking since he arrived that morning. In fact, he'd started out in a slightly warmer climate miles away at this point, and he'd briefly pondered taking off his jacket to cool off a bit despite the risks. Now, his teeth chattered violently and he wished with every fiber of his being for a fire. Just a small one, to warm his toes and keep his fingers firmly attached.

-In the faint light of the half-moon, he caught sight of something that stopped him dead in his tracks: a single, enormous footprint.

-Squinting into the darkness, he peered ahead and made out another, and another, heading up the mountain towards a small cluster of coniferous trees up ahead. Ah, shit. More walking.

-Before he could take a single step, a low, rumbling growl came from behind him. The Freeshooter turned, slowly, to face the biggest fucking Heartless he'd ever seen in his life.

-Glistening fangs, beady yellow eyes, twisted horns and inky black scales covered the thing. If he had to guess, Xigbar figured the thing was at least twelve feet tall and built like a tank.

-As he discovered, it was fast, too- even its eyes, glowing bright in the darkness, were impossible to track as the thing closed the distance between the two. It swiped at him with claws like kitchen knives and put him on the defensive immediately. No doubt, the beast had his number; at every point he warped to, it was waiting with jaws wide open, ready to crunch down. It batted him around, tossing him in the air and catching him in its jaws once it had its fun.

-Between the cold and the brutal sneak-attack, Xigbar found his energy fading fast. He raised his only free hand and squeezed his eye shut, focusing the last of his energy on getting somewhere, anywhere, safe.

-......

-....................

-Look, all you were trying to do was keep your head down and out of trouble. There were a lot of vibrant characters in San Fransisco, but all you cared about was doing well at your job and enjoying your ground floor studio apartment. Affordable housing of any kind was a rare luxury in the city, and you'd struck gold with a landlady who just wanted a good, responsible, quiet tenant. For her, you checked all the boxes.

-You certainly weren't looking to get involved with anyone else. Not platonically, not romantically, not even as roommates.

-And yet, here was this man leaned against your trashcan in the alley, bleeding everywhere and groaning. Despite the summer heat, he was dressed way up in a long black trenchcoat (torn to tatters though it was), trousers, knee length boots, and gloves.

-What was his deal?

-You'd never seen a dying person before. OK, so maybe he wasn’t dying. But as it was, if anyone else were to witness him in the alley, in front of your place, bleeding out with only you around, they might assume it was you who did it. Your brain short-circuited and, unable to fully think through the situation, you dragged the man inside your apartment and slid the patio door closed.

-So there you were, panicking inside your studio with an unconscious dying dude bleeding out on the floor. What would your landlord say? Would you ever get your deposit back for damaging the green shag carpet?

-At the very least, you figured you could ask him some questions when he woke up and help him contact the cops, in case he'd lost his phone. In the meantime, you put on a pot of coffee and watched the man sleep, contemplating his features. He was handsome, with nicely tanned skin and long, dark hair shot through with streaks of brown. A deep scar ran the length of one cheek, and the opposite eye was covered with an eyepatch. He sort of looked like an anime convention escapee, you thought, but then again, folks in the city proper were often just like this.

-”Ugghhh....” the man stirred gently, and you jumped. The single remaining eye fluttered open, and you were struck by the color: bright yellow, like your little Volkswagen Beetle parked outside. He glanced around slowly at first before sitting bolt-upright and grimacing. Perhaps he forgot about his injuries.

-”Uh... are you okay?” you asked dumbly. His head whipped around to meet you, and the intensity of his glare instantly made you feel... small.

-”Yeah, definitely, just dandy,” he grunted and waved flippantly in your direction. Steadying himself against the wall, he tried and failed to rise to his feet. The man raised a mangled hand into the air in front of him, ever so briefly, then sighed and let it drop to his side. “Can you... can you maybe tell me where exactly I am?”

-”Uh, I mean- it's, uh. My apartment. San Fransisco? California? Planet Earth?”   You licked your lips and sighed. “I found you in the alley. Did you get hit by a car?”

-”Car? What are you talking about? I don’t know what any of that means. I need to get home. I need to get out of here and report back- OWWWW!” Xigbar yelped as his second failed attempt at standing brought him closer to the ground.

-”No. I don't think so, Mister. You might have a concussion.”At that point, you'd already folded the spare futon down from its hiding spot in the wall and tossed down some spare pillows and blankets.

-“That means lots of rest. I thought they were worse, but your cuts don't actually look horrible. Let's get you cleaned up and laying down, then maybe we can get you an urgent care appointment to look at your head.”

-”No. No doctors.”

-”You religious, or scared or something?”

-”Er- yeah. Somethin' like that.”

-.............

-Xigbar really knew he should have RTC'd as soon as he was able to stand. He should have reported back a week ago. Yet here he was, truly a stranger in a strange land, crashing on this good Samaritan's couch, eating good food, and- for the first time in a really long time- relaxing.

-For him, some peroxide, butterfly bandages and ibuprofen were the trifecta- his wounds cleaned up nicely and the pain was definitely more bearable.

-You called out of work for the week shortly after he woke up, feeding them a line about your brother-in-law dying or some shit; you didn't have one, of course, but nobody had to know that. He told you his name was Xigbar, and that's really all you knew. The dude was tight-lipped to say the least.

-Xigbar went with you on every trip you took. At first, he was pretty wary of your little yellow Bug, but he warmed up to it pretty quickly- at least, until you dumped the clutch and stalled on a hill for the first time. He jumped like he thought the thing was trying to kill him, and you couldn't help but laugh.

-He went with you on trips to the grocery store. You showed him your favorite restaurant (and taught him how to talk to the server like a person rather than a barmaid). He sat next to you on the sofa as you pointed angrily at the TV and complained about some goings-on in your world. He helped you uncork a cheap bottle of Trader Joe's wine, then another, and another, and you ended up talking shit about your coworkers. For you, it was the guy who followed you all over the office and wouldn't leave you alone for anything. Xigbar offered to punch him as a show of gratitude, but you assured him that no, it was really okay, the guy was just a little weird.

-On the other hand, Xigbar's work stories were different. You surmised that his office was comprised entirely of... er, vibrant characters. Like, for instance, the one that ditched work every single day by hanging out in the break room right next to his manager. There was also the “gambling addict in denial”- according to Xigbar-  who had, just a few weeks ago, literally swindled the pants off of a man in a bar. And there was the one who could, and would, electrocute and stab anyone and everyone for the slightest of infractions.

-”Uh, dude. Have you talked to HR?”

-”...What's an 'HR'?”

-”Human Resources, duh!” you sighed dramatically.

-The loud, barking laugh that followed told you that he had not, in fact, talked to HR.

-.........................

-Six days had passed since you'd found Xigbar bleeding all over everything in your alley. Since then he'd improved dramatically, and when you could tell he was feeling well enough to stand on his feet, you decided that his seventh day with you would be devoted to seeing as many tourist attractions as possible together. The guy didn't have any memories, he told you, so you wanted to help him “start fresh” with as many happy ones as possible.

-This was, of course, a total lie: Xigbar remembered everything in his life, he liked to think, with the exception of how he got here. He was totally content to live the lie and continue following you around.

-In just a few days, something about you had grown on him. He couldn't quite place it, but it was something about your smile, your ripostes after his witty comments, the way your hair fell over your face when you slept, your tendency to rant and rave and scream at the endless city traffic... he didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

-You took him absolutely everywhere you could think of: a boat tour of the bay, a cable car ride up Telegraph Hill, a brief stop for brunch at a local bistro, gift store browsing, and finally a walk across the Golden Gate Bridge to watch the sun set. The roads were more peaceful than they normally were, even for a Sunday evening. Perfect, you thought.

-If Xigbar had a heart it would have been racing: being near him made his mind do backflips and twist itself into knots. He enjoyed being there, but more than he liked the sight of the setting sun, he loved the wind in your hair and the glimmer of joy in your eyes. Those beautiful eyes.... God dammit.

-”Hey, let's take a picture!”

-”Huh??”

-Before he could stop you, you'd produced your phone from your pocket and turned on the camera.

-You held the phone in front of the two of you, snapping a seies of pictures, and drew it close to examine. In all of them, Xigbar smiled even wider than you had- genuinely, not his usual, wolfish grin.

-He has such a nice smile, you thought.

-He peeked over your shoulder at the picture, too, and felt his chest tighten in a way he'd nearly forgotten.

-.......

-After that, Xigbar knew it was time for him to head back. Xemnas would surely drill him about his whereabouts. Xigbar thought it odd that he hadn't seen so much as a single Shadow in his time here. Even if the world was really as bad as you said it was, he supposed that a world yet untouched by darkness must have some kind of hope.

-The minute you got home, you printed out two copies of the picture of the two of you on glossy photo paper, each picture small enough to fit inside a wallet. He took it gratefully from you and turned it over in his hands, the tightness in his chest creeping back.

-”This has been a really great time. Thanks for takin' such great care of me. You really got a knack for it,” he started. Suddenly your chest, too, felt heavy. “But I really oughta get back to my life. Boss Man's gotta be wonderin' about me by now, ya know? Same with yours.”

-”Yeah... I guess so,” you sighed. It had been nice having him around, despite the rocky beginning. Your eyes swept over his lithe figure and settled on his face- angular, ruggedly handsome, and watching you intently for a follow-up to your response.

-”I'm actually going to miss you,” you admitted.  “Who's gonna sass me for running stop signs and stalling on hills? Or talk shit about my coworkers with me? I hope I get to see you again. Please don't be a stranger.”

-He reached forward, fingertips brushing over your face, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't brush him off when he laced his fingers through your hair, and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you grabbed his coat and pulled him in as close as you could.

-He drew away sooner than you would have liked. Than you would have both liked, really.

-”I'll make a point to stop back by, 'kay?” he assured you. With a sad smile, he lifted a hand and was surrounded by wisps of inky black and purple smoke. Just like that, he was gone.

-”W-what?” Wide-eyed, heart racing, you glanced around your apartment and resisted the urge to scream.

-”What the FUCK was that?!”

-.................

-As soon as Xigbar was back within the walls of the castle, he realized he'd fucked up.

-”Aww, shit!” There was no way she hadn’t seen the corridor of darkness, and there wasn’t really a good way to explain it, either.

-Mortified, and more than a little tired, he reached into his pocket and checked to make sure the picture was still there. Xemnas could wait until tomorrow; he'd sleep on his little snafu and figure out what to say the next time he visited you.

[getaandlucius]

EVERGREEN LOVE, part 9

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 , part 8, part 10

Summary; You join Freddie, Rog, Bri and Mary on a spontaneous roadtrip to a cabin of Brian’s uncle in Scotland but it starts snowing heavily while on the road. 

Wordcount; 2,1k  

Warnings; Swearing and fluff. I mean two days crammed in a tiny space, hellooa fighting boys and sexual tension:)

Smutt will come along the way, stay tuned:))))))))

Thankyou for reading everybody! I love you to pieces! Please let me know what you think of this part, I live for feedback:) If you like it, feel free to reblog! Means the world to me<3 <3 I love you forever, yours always x 

p.s. if you wonder where that precious bean of a john deacy is; he joined the band later when it was queen instead of smile! If you miss him, feel free to request! 

‘Not that damn country music again!’ Roger came out of his seat and bended forward to reach for the radio.

‘Hey! Driver is king!’ Brian objected and swatted his hand away. You were in the van heading to Scotland and it had been like this for the past two hours.

‘King my ass! If I hear another Johnny Cash song I swear I’m gonna jump out of the moving van voluntarily.’

‘Be my guest.’

‘I quite like it actually.’ Freddie who was sitting behind Brian commented and bopped his head to the rhythm. ‘It has a nice vibe to it don’t you think Rog?’

‘Not after the five hours we’ve been listening to it, no I don’t Fred.’ Roger fumed.

‘Rog get your ass out of my face and sit down.’ You demanded and tried pulling him back by his elbow.

‘Hey! You should be on my side!’ Roger spoke indignantly.

Brian laughed and turned up the volume. ‘Y/N has good taste, unlike our princess Rog over here.’

‘Well I couldn’t agree more.’ You affirmed. ‘But I just don’t wanna die just yet, alright guys. ’

Roger finally sat down but not before quickly grabbing a handful of crisps and throwing it at Brian’s back.

‘Hey! What the hell Rog!’ Brian cried out annoyed and shook his shoulders to get rid of the crisps. ‘Don’t distract the driver!’

You could see Rogers hand now sneakily reaching for the bag of chocolates but you caught his wrist right in the act before he could cause any more damage.

‘Rog, I swear to god, calm the fuck down.’ You said, trying to sound serious but not succeeding very well.

‘Or what?’ He asked with a smirk, looking at you.

‘Or I’ll cut your precious hair in your sleep tonight.’ You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

‘Ha.’ He had an amusing look in his eyes. ‘You are feisty today. I like it.’

‘Just tired.’ You replied and rubbed your forehead.

‘Oh, I can see that babygirl.’ He said, smiling sweetly. You wanted to hit his arm for agreeing you looked tired but he caught your wrist in the air, just like you did before with his.

‘Let’s not start a fight like you said hmm?’ He reminded you, looking at you intensely. You groaned but your heart was beating in your chest. If only he knew the effect he had on you.

He let you go and you shifted your body to find a comfortable position. Maybe it was indeed better you got some sleep. It would be a long trip and your eyelids were heavy.

 You had been in the car for three hours so far, two of which consisted of arguing and fighting. It was like you entered a family. Everyone already seemed to know each other for ages and you felt strangely at home and completely accepted as well. It was a genuine group of people and they made you feel at ease.

You also had to agree with Roger that Freddie was pretty damn cool. He did indeed have wicked style and even though he seemed quiet at times, when he did say something it was always something interesting or smart or witty. He had something about him but you didn’t know just quite what it was. You also noticed he seemed very much drawn to Mary, which Brian didn’t really seem to mind. You wondered if they were even still together as you hadn’t seen them close in a long time.

When Roger had picked you up from uni that afternoon you’d quickly stopped by your apartment to pick up some clothes and a toothbrush, as he told you the plan was to drive all the way up to Scotland which would take up to one and a half days. You were going to visit a country-house of an uncle of Brian who used it as his holiday residence but only during the summer months.

Apparently there had been a forecast predicting the northern lights could be spotted up there in the north.

 ‘That’s why we are going to drive for two days?’ You had asked.

‘No.’ Roger replied. ‘I mean yes, Brian loves that shit, but it’s also a wicked house with a fire place and great scotch.’ 

--------

You yawned and closed your eyes.

‘Can I have those chocolates, Rog?’ Freddie asked. ‘Mary wants some.’

‘Sure thing.’

You started to drift off, the sounds turning blurry and fading to the background. You were almost out when something briefly pulled you back to your consciousness.

‘Your girl is starting to fall asleep Rog.’ Brian noticed, looking in the rearview. Your girl. Had he actually said that? Did they see you as rogers girl? That made you happier then it probably should. You had to suppress a smile since you were pretending to be asleep and tried relaxing your face.

‘Yes she probably needs it, with all the exams.’ You could hear Roger say softly and you started to drift off again. You shifted a little so your head rested on his shoulder and he let it.

When you woke up it was dark outside. You slowly started to recognize voices but kept your eyes closed.

‘You aren’t even listening.’ You could hear Brian say.

Roger groaned. ‘Yes, God help me I am.’

‘Then what did I just say.’

‘You were saying that neutron stars, which are leftovers from the deaths of massive stars in supernova explosions, are so dense that just a bowlul of neutron star material has more mass than the moon.’

‘Ha I finally got through to you! You see, astrophysics is hella interesting huh?’ Brian said, clearly surprised but equally impressed.

‘Nah I’m just bored.’ Roger replied while yawning loudly.

‘Wait, don’t fall asleep just yet! You know what’s even more fascinating?’

Roger sighed, not even trying to hide his disinterest. ‘No. Please do enlighten me Bri.’

‘Planet Saturn would float on water.’ Brian said. ‘Float on water! I mean, isn’t that just beyond? It’s actually the only planet in our solar system that would.’

‘Okay that’s…. that is actually pretty wicked Bri.’ Roger conceded, a trace of genuine excitement in his tired voice. Maybe he wanted to sleep a bit as well.

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked, voice raspy from the sleep.

‘Ah she’s awake.’ Brian said and looked at the clock above the speedometer. ‘It’s 21;30’

‘Oh jeez. How far is it still?’ You asked.

‘Not too long left for today.’ Brian answered and gave you a smile through the rearview mirror. ‘The snowfall is starting to get very heavy anyway and we should get some rest.’

‘Are we sleeping in the van?’ Mary asked.

‘Unfortunately I’m afraid so.’

‘Oh darlin, we could have easily booked a hotel!’ Freddie complained, shaking his head.

‘Too expensive, Fred.’ Brian replied, giving him an apologetic smile.

You got out of your sleeping position and looked out of the window. The light from the front headlights caught the snowflakes in a soft glow and you saw Brian was right. The snow was starting to get more and more heavy.

 Half an hour later you spotted something on the side of the road.

‘There was a sign just now. Did you see it Bri?’

‘No?’

‘Maybe it’s saying there’ll be a gas-station in a few miles.’ You uttered.

‘Okay I’ll keep my eyes open.’ Brian replied and bended forward to be closer to the window.

After five minutes indeed a gas station showed up and Brian took a left turn. He drove around the station and pulled up on the side.

‘Alright guys. Time to get some rest.’ He said and you noticed Roger was already gone, head fallen backwards and lips slightly parted. You smiled and put your head back on his shoulder.

‘Goodnight everybody.’

‘Goodnight darlings.’ Freddie said.

Brian turned the engine off. ‘Yes, sleep well people.’

And with that you drifted off again.

 When you woke up you thought it was still dark out as there was almost no light coming in through the windows. You moved a little, body stiff from the cold and quickly realized the van was completely covered in snow. Brian, Mary and Freddie were up as well but Roger was still sound asleep, looking so peaceful your heart ached a little.

‘Ah for fucks sake.’ You heard Brian curse from under his breath and realized he was trying to start the engine without having much success.

‘It’s not working, is it.’ Freddie stated.

‘No it’s not Fred.’ Brian replied and you couldn’t help but notice the tiny trace of annoyance in Brian’s voice. He seemed worried.

‘We need to clear the snow around it first.’ Mary said. ‘We should go outside.’

‘Yeah you’re right.’ Brian agreed and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. ‘Let’s go outside everybody! Y/N can you wake up that sleepyhead, we need him.’ You nodded and turned to Roger.  

‘Rog?’ You shook his shoulder. ‘Rog.’ He groaned something you couldn’t understand. ‘Ey Taylor, we need you.’ You spoke, raising your voice. He still kept his eyes closed but started to gain consciousness so in a whim you took your icy-cold hands and slid them in the collar of his jacket, resting them against the warm skin of his neck. He shrieked and dived away from you and your cold hands.

‘What the fuck?’ He cried out, eyes big and confused as to how you could be so cruel. ‘Do you want me dead, woman?’

‘No but we need to clear the snow around the van or we will die up here actually.’ You plainly stated.

Roger looked around, still disorientated from just waking up.

‘What happened?’

‘Heavy snowfall. We’re completely covered up. Now let’s go.’

You grabbed the door handle and tried to open it. You pulled and pushed but it was completely stuck. You wondered how the others succeeded in opening theirs as the door wouldn’t move in the lightest bit.

You wanted to try a different door when you suddenly felt Roger leaning into you, using his weight to help you open it, his body pressed up against yours.

You could feel his breath on your cheek when he spoke. ‘One, two, three.’ He counted and on three you both crashed your weight into the door, finally causing it to open. You landed in the knee-deep snow and had to blink a few times, trying to get your eyes used to the impossible brightness of the outdoors. The whole world was white and unrecognizable. The gas station was clearly closed and you wondered if had ever been open, as it looked completely deserted.  

Freddie, Mary and Brian were already grabbing arms full of snow from around the van and throwing it elsewhere. Freddie seemed in an awfully good mood compared to the others and was humming some kind of melody you didn’t recognize. You noticed none of them were wearing gloves.

Roger and you both joined them and started diving into the thick snow, a shiver running down your spine from the cold against your skin.

After half an hour of intensive work the van was cleared of enough snow to be able to move, would the engine ever start working again.

 ‘You need to turn the start key and hold it for ten seconds while pushing gently on the gas paddle.’ Roger instructed Brian when you were back in the van, sitting next to him. ‘Why couldn’t I drive again?’

‘Because it’s not your van, and you don’t know the way to the cabin.’ Brian explained, following Rogers instructions and pushing on the gas paddle.

After three tries they did indeed succeed to get it started again and you sighed relieved. You didn’t bring any food with you besides some oranges, candy and crushed sandwiches so you would have died either of the cold or starvation.

Brian started driving slowly towards the road and you noticed there were no cars, not a single one.

‘We have to get to the main road again.’ He said, turning left. ‘They probably cleared most of the snow there.’

‘How far is it to the cabin?’ You asked.

‘Just over two hundred miles, but it might take long considering the snow.’

Roger chuckled. ‘We are going to get so sick of each other, god help us.’ He spoke dramatically, then turned around in his seat.

‘Especially of you, love.’ He added, teasingly touching your cheek with his cold hands to get back at you for earlier, but it was a very weak and soft come-back.  

‘Ugh, don’t get me started.’ You replied with a smirk.

 This boy was going to be the end of you.  

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[quakerjoe]

Cuppa Joe for Sun., 7 Jan 2019

I was sitting in my living room with my best mate watching “Parts Unknown” with the late Anthony Bourdain and the episode we were watching was in Welch, West Virginia. Watch it. Seriously, watch it. Listen carefully. You may just get more woke. I know I did. You see, people from regions like this are typified as hicks, hillbillies and rednecks. Well, to be fair, they are. Good ol’ coal country folk bent on guns and Jesus with a deep love of football. It’s never been my cuppa tea, honestly, but having been through places like this, I’ve experienced a couple of things. If I shut up and just listen, these folks, for the most part, are just like anyone anywhere else. They have pride in their homes, their families, their traditions, and they certainly don’t love, more or less, as frequently, or deeply as we do. Their pleasures are simple. Their tastes plain and direct. Their pains every bit as real as yours or mine.

Looking at them strictly through a political scope of late, especially since 2016 where my vision narrowed a bit, I’ve come to remember something; something that’s a bit embarrassing and certainly bears the burden of a dose of shame, now that I’ve watched this episode of “Parts Unknown”. Bourdain visited a coal mine and fired machine guns and ate the local delicacies of the area and talked to the folk, even being so brave as to broach the topic of politics in this once deeply blue, now deeply red and pro-trump part of our nation. “I’d lost my way,” I realized as I did something I haven’t done in a long time. I listened.

Now don’t get me wrong here; I’m not about to defend these poor bastards for voting for trump. Not in a million years. They didn’t do their research or homework and they’re guilty for putting that fuckwit in the White House. However, taking the time to listen to the “why” made me look a little deeper. It made me realize something. These simple folk, not overly educated but hard working, kind-hearted people, despite not being on the short path for a Pulitzer Prize for anything intelligent… might just be the geniuses we need. Sounds crazy? I’ll explain.

One of the big reasons they went trump is because HRC gave them all the impression that she was going to kill the coal industry but didn’t make the case well enough about retraining and repurposing their workforce. She ran a campaign against an industry steeped in their traditions now, generations having worked in the mines. Simply, she was an uppity city gal without a clue and she lost them. The problem here, for those unfamiliar with places like this, is that uppity city folk have ALWAYS found some way to come into their small, quiet towns, fool them into buying or investing in shit they don’t need nor want (which goes all the way back to the Carpetbaggers. Look that up if you don’t know what that is). While it brought them good paying jobs sometimes, like Big Coal did, they’re all too aware that their crops, resources and so forth are bought on the cheap there and sold by middle men for small fortunes in the big cities. They know full well they’re getting screwed, but they also don’t really have the means to exploit the market directly, eliminate the middlemen, and see that small fortune themselves. Generations have experienced making a little money while their efforts went on to make city folk pretty rich.

So why trump? In short, many feel he’s going to bring change and they like him because he “talks like they talk” and says how he feels and what he means. By now I do hope that’s changed a bit. Still, the orange fuckwit did ring a chord with these people, even though he’s a rich twat from NY. They’re confident that trump will bring change, and you know what? I just caught on that they’re right, just not in the way they’re thinking.

We’re at a strange stage of existence where the well educated are flustered at having to deal with the less educated, including that gap in religious beliefs or lack thereof. Both sides now look down their noses at one another and the chasm of contempt is obviously growing bigger and bigger. It’s no secret that we’re all getting more and more poor regardless of our level of education or faith, and because of that, the rich fuckers at the top utilize that ongoing divide to keep us from actually remembering what makes us all alike for fear we, the actual people, may rise up and literally get rid of them one way or another.

I used to think that the GOP only had eyes for corporations and their cash. It’s why I dropped my GOP leanings years and years ago. It’s one thing to want smaller federal government and fiscal responsibility, but when they’re always doing the opposite and the Democrats actually DID what the GOP’s platform was saying it was for, well, actions speak louder than words. However, I think we can all agree to some measure of other, that today’s Dems are acting like moderate GOPers of the 80’s to 90’s. As the Democrats have demonstrated in this new House, diversity is clearly something that keeps them at a respectable level on the Left, but wait… Watch this episode of “Parts Unknown”. It’s on NetFlix. Watch it and then read the rest of this. I’ll wait.

No I won’t. You know it. Still, watch it. It gave me the following epiphany here, and I’d like you to consider it. The people Bourdain talked to about trump, and we’ve heard it before too, and we mostly gaffed it off, but here’s the genius of it all- They’re right in that trump will bring change. He’s so terrible, so fucking stupid, so damaging to the country, that our only hope as a nation is to REMEMBER what makes us all Americans, not bitch about too many of the things that really don’t matter (yeah, I’ll lighten up on the religious folks, even if I think it’s all a load of bollocks) and look at things from a different angle. Here it is. This change NEEDS to happen, but not in the GOP; they’ll never change. No, seriously, they won’t. They’re loving the cash more than country. No, I mean CHANGE needs to come from the Democrats! For too long they've made dumb choices, their politicians are spineless, and their policies framed in ways that seem to look down at most of rural America (what I call #Murica). Democrats need to shut up and listen. They need to HEAR what troubles there are out there and not just wink and nod and say they’ll try to handle it, but to bloody well DO it. They need to be CLEAR what their message is.

Sanders lost a lot of support because he and his staff never actually spent the time to school the people out here on what DEMOCRATIC socialism (actually this term is incorrect if you want to split hairs- what Sanders is shooting for is Social Democracy; something we already have to a degree and it’s being stripped away and replaced with an oligarchy more and more. Also see Plutocracy) is, and the McCarthy-flashbacks kept people hearing “socialist” only and the association we were taught in school to that word relating to tyrannical countries like the USSR, China and so on and it put too many voters off. Still, Sanders creamed trump in loads of polls while HRC was sketchy; a gamble at best. She didn’t connect with the ‘simple folk’ out in the sticks and in blue territory while Sanders did. The Dems need to own their defeat, admit their part in helping trump get elected, and then move on from there. Americans are all for Progressive ideas; they just don’t trust the Dems to either have the spine to try, the balls to fight, or the strength to carry it through. Again, those people in Welch WV are right- trump will bring change, one way or another. Either we’re going to get rid of Corporate Democrats who ignore their constituents and suck corporate dicks for cash (as the GOP is famed for) and actually CHANGE by getting money out of politics and start working for “We the People”, OR they won’t, and change will still happen, only not in the way these rural folk think. It’ll be the collapse and end of the US as we know it, a division so bad that nobody will come and help because we’ve pissed off and alienated out allies and bowed down, on a global scope, to our former enemies like Russia and China and N. Korea.

So, while city mouse and country mouse may both enjoy time with their families, decent wages, decent jobs, good food, clean air and water, good education, healthcare, and the pride of being an American citizen, we need to remember that these are the important things that bind us together, not only with our fellow Americans, but our fellow human beings all across the planet. There are some things that just WON’T go away, and somewhere in here we need to agree to disagree. Abortion. Guns. It’s too late on these issues. We either respect the separation of  church and state and keep abortion legal for the safety and lives of women or we don’t and admit that we’re all up for Sharia Law, #Murican style. As for guns? We’ll never fix this one EVER. Again, watch the show I mentioned earlier. The problem is that we’re so saturated with guns that it won’t matter if there are any gun laws or not. They won’t do a damned thing no matter how much I wish they would. Still, trump will bring change, like they said. The question is, will Democrats make the changes in their party that are needed to literally save the United States and possibly the world, or not change and cement in our history that they ARE the scourge that those on the right think they are?

[wyldwon]

I didn’t know where to go with my story, thanks for letting me join.

TW-

My NDE happened to me about 7 years ago and I’ve never felt like the same “person”. My friends think I’m nuts and my doctor just wants to put me on medication (I have Bipolar Disorder so nothing I say gets taken as more than that).

I had taken 90 10mg Valium with a pint of 101 whiskey. I don’t remember my neighbor busting down my door. I don’t remember getting to the hospital.

I woke up on the ceiling of my ER room. I could describe the room and the 5 ER doctors around me moving me from one bed to another by the blanket under me. I can tell you their genders, and even what a cpl of them looked like to this day.

It seemed like time moved differently. It was the calmest, most serene I’ve ever felt in my “life”. I got closer to my body while the doctors were panicking around me but I was only paying attention to my body. I didn’t even look human. I looked like roadkill. It was like the energy I was or whatever you wanna call it just looked at my body and said “poor girl just had enough, she wasn’t built for this world.”

I briefly thought about my responsibilities and family and children and I felt so at peace, like they’d be fine, and all earthly bonds and goals and everything else just slipped from me.

I had some strange knowledge that everything earthly be it family, wrongs, or anything else just didn’t matter on that side. It was like for a brief moment I saw the WHOLE picture and realized the entire life I have on this planet is petty and doesn’t matter in the end. It’s hard to undo that knowledge.

I felt light everywhere, and I was so urged to give in, like I just had to let go and I’d have gone. But I was holding on because my body was so captivating. It was like in that state I wasn’t looking at a body, but rather could see the body as all the damage had been done. I was looking at my body like a husk that in the moment looked beaten and battered. I knew I wasn’t seeing my real body but I was looking at some grotesque figure I didn’t recognize.

I just had to give in. I just had to let go. And the omnipresent light and peace and energy...I was just being pulled in and I fought to stay observing my last few minutes. But I fought a bit long. Things went dark (still not paying attention to the doctors at this point), and I woke up physically on suicide watch. The doctor said I did not wake up in the ER, they actually lost me for a minute, and when I told him I was there and described it he gave me a medical explanation for the dying brain. I know It was so much more.

Since my experience, my life has completely changed. This may sound a little manic but it’s like I sense things before they happen, clairsentience has become a trait I never had, I can feel good and bad in the air- idk how to explain that further. I hear things that aren’t there, not in my head but externally, like I’ll hear a conversation in the next room when I’m home alone. I swear “shadow people” have become a thing in my life periodically, but mainly I now just seem to have an extra 6th sense of the future or my surroundings. Not the details but just if it’s good or bad. I’ve never been wrong.

I did not experience meeting anyone in that state, though I had to fight to get to the foot of my bed from the ceiling as I had this feeling of fading into this omnipresent energy.

I’ve talked to my doctor and she thinks it’s part of my BP diagnosis turning into delusions and paranoia, auditory hallucinations, I’ve tried to explain but when you’re a psych patient with this story I see how it looks.

My living friends have never had an NDE and tend to poke fun at my experience.

I’m happy most days that my life was saved, but I regret just as much not giving in to that energy. It’s like they brought me back just after I learned that being on this planet means nothing. And I can’t undo that information.

I’ve struggled to connect with people, I’ve lost friends, I’ve even had a hard time bonding with my children. I can’t seem to find importance in things in this life, knowing it isn’t on the other side, and I feel like some alien figure that doesn’t belong here. I can’t connect to life anymore. I would never hurt myself again, but all I want is one more chance to give in.

I hate knowing what I learned in that state about earthly life being completely irrelevant in the next, and then being stuck here anyway like Im supposed to find importance in a life that had none when it was over.

If you read this far, thank you. I just wanted to tell my story to people who weren’t trying to raise my Lithium.

#finally. #iamnotfuckingcrazy #itsreal #ithappened #Iknowit #andgodknowsit #fuckeverybodyelse

[dantediscoversfic]

Chapter 25: The Weight of Waiting

I don’t like hospitals. Who in their right mind does? I bet the people who work there don’t even really like it. The smells, for one. The tension that hangs heavy in the air like it’s an anti-air freshener on the rearview mirror of a car but instead of a pine tree it’s shaped like an anatomical heart and smells like blood, vomit, bleach and astringent cleaner, day old coffee, piss and shit, body odor, fear and dread. The awful raw animal sounds people make. The machine sounds that are like a fly buzzing incessantly around your ear: clocks ticking, machines beeping, wheels screeching, TVs and radios bleating in the background. The long corridors and labyrinthine hallways that all look the same. How easy it is to get lost and wind up in the wrong wing, peering into strangers’ most private moments while you’re searching for the one you love.

So yeah, hospitals are terrible. But there was no way I was leaving until I knew Ari was going to be okay after his surgery.

I’d never been in an ICU unit before. I’d been to a regular hospital room when I was younger and my abuelo needed a stent put in for his heart. What I remember most about that is how he let me climb in bed with him and press the button to move the top of his bed up and down and that he gave me his little carton of milk and let me eat some of his cold mashed potatoes. I don’t remember being scared because I don’t really think I understood that he was in real danger, that something could have gone wrong with his surgery and he could have died. My parents left that part out and just said we needed to go see him to help him get better.

This time, I wasn’t a delusional kid who thought me being there would actually help Ari get any better. But I still couldn’t leave, not even to sleep. After I got my stitches and cast on (it turns out I’d broken my right arm when Ari pushed me out of the way of the car), my mom thought I should go home and rest and that the Mendozas would call us once they had news about Ari. But I flat out refused. My parents switched off staying with me while we waited with Ari’s parents. We didn’t talk much. My throat felt as scraped up as my face, all rough and gravel-singed. I thought the second I opened my mouth I’d start to cry so I just sealed it shut and waited.

After Ari’s surgery they let us see him briefly in the ICU unit. I didn’t realize that the ICU was just one big area and that all the beds would be separated only by curtains. He seemed so exposed. Ari was semi-lucent for only a little bit. He said my name but I don’t think he understood that I was right there, standing next to him. It’s hard to explain how scary that was to witness. Maybe scarier than right after the accident and he wasn’t moving. It was like he was there but wasn’t there. I could hope against hope that he would be himself again but I had no way of knowing that for sure. And it would be all my fault if he was permanently damaged. I’d never forgive myself if he didn’t make it out not just okay but not make it out as Ari. If he somehow lost a part of himself that made him who he was, made him the person I loved more than just about anyone else on the planet. He moaned, obviously in a lot of pain, and the doctors gave him drugs that made him sleep. And then all we could do was wait for his body to want for him to wake up.

The weight of waiting. It creates its own strange force inside your body. Your head droops and your neck snaps but you can’t really sleep. You can’t turn off your brain but it feels sluggish and dull. Your body aches, but not as much as your heart, which keeps pumping even though it stopped the minute the person you love was dragged away from you.

Time passes strangely in a hospital waiting room. Especially after visiting hours are over and you’re supposed to have gone home. It doesn’t obey the normal laws of reality we’re used to. You know you’re not supposed to be there, there’s no context for why you’re there, why the dawn breaks even though your soul still feels heavy and dark as the night sky.

At some point I needed to get up and stretch my legs so I went looking for the cafeteria vending machines and ended up finding the hospital’s little chapel instead. It was empty and I sat on the wooden benches. My limbs were heavy. I closed my eyes and time and space started behaving strangely again. My head felt like it was a snow globe, with the universe swirling around inside it. I asked the stars for help, to keep Ari safe. I didn’t say any of the Bible words my mom had taught me, but there, alone, was where I really learned what it means to pray.

My right arm was broken, which made me feel even stranger and more helpless. I needed my parents to open a bag of chips or crack open the tab of a soda can for me. To pass the time while we waited I practiced writing with my left hand; I wrote my name and Ari’s name over and over on a page of hospital stationary. It looked like a Kindergartener’s chicken scratch. It sort of matched how I felt, though.

Thirty-six hours after he’d gotten out of surgery, Ari’s dad came and found me and told me Ari was awake finally. My dad had gone home to shower and bring me back some real food, so I was alone. Something broke loose inside me when he told me Ari was going to be okay and I sobbed into his arms. He let me get it out of my system. He patted my back and let me cry, but his own face stayed dry. He was so like Ari. I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face before going in to see him. I wanted to be strong for him, like he’d been strong for me.

I stepped into his room and saw the brown and white parts of his eyes. They were really truly open! He looked absolutely terrible, but he still managed to smile at me. Relief flooded over me like a tremor.

“Hi,” he said.

“We sort of match,” I said. My arm cast, his leg casts. A mangled matching set.

“I got you beat,” he said. He sounded like talking took a lot of effort.

“Finally, you get to win an argument.”

“Yeah, finally,” he said. “You look like shit.”

“So do you,” I said.

I stepped in closer to his bed but was afraid to touch him. Like touching him would make him hurt even more.

“You sound tired,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you woke up.”

“Yeah, I woke up. But it hurts less when I sleep.”

“You saved my life, Ari.”

“Dante’s hero. Just what I always wanted to be.”

I felt pressure start to build in the back of my throat and behind my eyes but I tried to shove it down. “Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t make fun. You almost got yourself killed.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I couldn’t help it. Tears started running hot down my face. It wasn’t on purpose. “You pushed me. You pushed me and you saved my life.”

“Looks like I pushed you and beat the crap out of your face.”

I raised a hand reflexively to touch my still sensitive cheek. It still stung like hell. “I’ve got character now.”

“It was that damned bird,” he said. “We can blame it all on the bird. The whole thing.”

“I’m done with birds.”

“No you’re not.”

Once tears get going, they really have a life of their own. Ari was awake, he was making stupid jokes, he was alive, he was Ari, so why couldn’t I stop crying?

“Knock it off,” he said, not meanly. His voice was too tired to have any real oomph behind it. “My mom’s been crying—and even Dad looks like he wants to cry. Rules. I have rules. No crying.”

I thought of Dead Bird Day. If it wasn’t for that day I’m not sure we’d be here right now. That was the day that things started going to hell. And it was all because of stupid birds. I was done with them, even though Ari didn’t believe me.

“Okay,” I said. “No more crying. Boys don’t cry.”

“Boys don’t cry,” he said. “Tears make me really tired.”

It was such an Ari thing to say, I let out a barky laugh that was more like a combination laugh-cry. But since I was done with crying, it was a laugh.

I shut my eyes for a second and the accident replayed in my mind. I heard Ari’s voice like a wind chime saying “Why would I be sad?”. I saw the hail stones, the bird, the headlights, heard Ari screaming my name, smelled blood and asphalt. It all happened slower in my brain than in real life, almost like I was piecing together all the images after the fact, trying to solve the puzzle of how and why this terrible thing had happened. At the time it had happened so fast I barely registered what was happening, why Ari’s body was barreling into mine, but now time had made it obvious. It happened because of me.

“You took a dive like you were in a swimming pool,” I said.

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

“You dove at me, like, I don’t know, like some kind of football player diving at the guy with the ball, and you pushed me out of the way. It all happened so fast and yet, you just, I don’t know, you just knew what to do. Only you could have gotten yourself killed. And all because I’m an idiot, standing in the middle of the road trying to save a stupid bird.”

“You’re breaking the no-crying rule again,” he said. “And birds aren’t stupid.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“You didn’t do anything. You were just being you.”

“No more birds for me.”

“I like birds,” he said.

“I’ve given them up. You saved my life.”

“I told you. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Ari’s parents laughed, so I did, too. I’d almost forgotten they were in the room with us.

Ari smiled, then winced. I hated that. I hated that it hurt for the most beautiful boy on the planet to smile and it was my fault.

I took his hand. I thought he’d wince again but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ari. Forgive me forgive me.”

His eyelids fluttered closed and he began drifting away. His mom told me it was the morphine. He hummed a little but didn’t talk any more. He kept holding onto my hand until he was fast asleep.

I carefully pried our hands apart even though I knew he was out cold. I brushed his hair out of his eyes. I said good-bye to his parents and went back into the waiting room. My dad was there. I told him Ari had woken up, that the doctors told us he was going to be fine. My dad hugged me and drove me home. I fell asleep during the car ride back to our house, even though it was only a short drive. He must have picked me up and brought me up to my room, because the next thing I remember was waking up in my bed and seeing a bird on my windowsill. I shooed it away, shut the blinds, and went back to sleep.

I dreamed that Ari and I were in a swimming pool. We were both sitting on a big inflatable swan. I was sitting behind him with my arms wrapped around his waist, my head resting on the back of his shoulder. I had big white wings and I wrapped them around us. The pool stretched on forever, it turned into the sky. He asked me if we could fly.

“I don’t know how,” I said. “I’ve never tried.”

“What are those wings for?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I just mean, they’ve always just been here. I don’t know what they’re for or if they even work.”

“Well, that’s stupid. Let’s try them.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken. I’m a swan.”

We both laughed. I was hugging him so tight I could feel all the vibrations run through his body. It hurt to laugh, though.

“What a waste,” he said.

I hugged his waist even tighter and brushed my cheek against his skin in the dip between his shoulder blades.

“Here, have one.” I yanked the right wing out. It slipped out pretty easily and stung only as bad as pulling out a splinter. I pulled the other one out. He held them out to his sides and tried flapping them up and down.

“Now what?” he said.

“Now what what?”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought this through.”

“I guess not.”

“I could try sticking them into your back.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Maybe. But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Okay, try it.”

I took one of the wings from him. The end was pointed like an old-fashioned feather pen. I jabbed it into his skin.

“Ouch!”

A trickle of blood rivered down his back.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said.

“Can you give me a tattoo instead?”

“What do you want the tattoo to be?”

“Draw me some wings.”

My right arm was numb. I couldn’t hold the wing anymore with it, let alone draw. “I can’t write with my left hand. It will turn out terrible.”

“I don’t care.”

“You will. Tattoos are permanent.”

“I won’t. Just try.”

I used my left hand and drew blood wings on his back with the feather quill pen/wing.

“It’s all red. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It hurts a lot. But I don’t care.”

“You’re so strong.”

He snorted.

“Let’s go for a swim in the sky.”

He sprouted wings where I’d scratched them into his skin. We switched spots so now he was positioned behind me; he held me tight around my rib cage and we lifted off. My ears popped painfully.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re migrating.”

“But where?”

“Anywhere you like.”

“But I like it here.”

“We can’t stay here, you know that, Dante, right?”

“Why?”

“Because here is nowhere.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t cry, Dante.”

“I’m not crying.”

“I can taste it on your cheek.”

I had forgotten our cheeks were rubbing so close together.

“Don’t let go of me,” I said.

“I won’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For hurting you.”

“The wings didn’t hurt.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The air way up in the sky was frigid. The wind stung my eyes and made my face itch. But my whole body was throbbing and on fire from where he was touching me and from the rhythmic beating of his wings.

“I like this so much.”

“Don’t cry, Dante.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“It feels like we’re swimming in a pool up here. We’re weightless.”

“Will you wait for me?”

“Wait for what?”

“Wait for us.”

I was shouting so he could hear me over the wind.

“What would I be waiting for?”

“Nothing. Put me down please. Let me go.”

“I’m not doing that.”

I hated him so much.

“Let me go!”

“Fine.”

I felt the release of the pressure of his arms around my waist. I fell and fell and woke up right before I crashed into the ground. Everything hurt.

[rykerelias-archive]

TRANSFERRED FILE. ||  @ofsais // @tuppencetrinkets.   Elektra & Elias.   VERSE: altered carbon. au. ( lightning. ) 019. THREAD: to be named.

"I want a baby.” ( meme prompt. )

    Of all the things he might have expected her to say, curled next to him in his bed, his fingers trailing soft whorls of patterns and lines over the curve of her shoulder and back…. that was not one of them.  A mental FLINCH followed her murmured comment, a flashback to the last time that she’d said something similar, and he felt a cringe threaten his features – fortunately her head was tucked under his chin, but then, that meant she probably heard, and felt that long swallow that followed her comment, his throat suddenly dry, his breath catching in his chest, his fingers slowing their pace for a heartbeat, three, five.   Strange, how things change, even when they stay the same.  Six months ago, he’d not even been able to CONSIDER the thought, not even for a moment, his reptilian brain SCOFFING INSTANTLY at the idea of someone like him, with his job, and his hours, and his enemies, evenCONSIDERING the thought of offspring – add to that the constant danger and hazards of her own line of work, much less even HINTING at the possibility of that kind of tie, a LIFE together, a life MADE together –  

He wasn’t his dad.   He couldn’t imagine having a kid and NOT being there, regardless of the when and the where and the how, but – before her – before NOW – he hadn’t even realized it.  Realized just how GOOD a future like that seemed to him, here, in the quiet and the soft morning haze.  A life where every morning, he woke up to this.  To her, next to him, with him.  “You, uh –”  A faint, careful clearing of his throat, his fingers sliding along her arm, tracing the line of it down to her fingers.  “You really think you’d wanna do something like that with a guy wearing this ugly mug?”   A casual banter, an opportunity for her to deflect, to retract without losing face.  

Elektra felt it clear as day, the entire body tense up of his. She was damn near lying atop him, hard to miss something like that. And apparently it was contagious, her own breath halting for a handful of beats, palms slick with sweat. Generally her words were carefully planned, well thought out. He did something strange to her brain and it was blurted in a moment of pure candour. Fingertips pressed to fingertips and she looked down at where they touched, amazed at how far they’d come, tenderness between them shared as easily as air in lungs, no second thoughts about it. And that’s why she began thinking about this, about the possibility of a future when they lived in a world where that could go forever.

Laughter bubbled in her throat, filling the silence that lingered after his question. Elektra untangled herself from him, limbs extracted from the human knot they’d seemed to create as she sat up, looking back down at him; sheets pooled around her waist and her dark hair wild from a night of passion. “Please, let’s not be modest and pretend like any mixture of our looks is going to be a blessing on this god forsaken planet.”

His expression was careful – not so much GUARDED as cautious by the time she shifted, a softly reluctant sound slipping from him as she disentangled herself from his most immediate reach, his hand drifting down to rest at her knee, fingers curling lightly over her thigh, a thumb tracing reflectively over the scar that she bore, a permanent reminder of the night that everything had CHANGED, shifted, upended.   A smirk teased, pulled at the edges of his mouth at her response, his weight shifting to let himself stretch out further, his other hand pulled up to rest behind his head, his gaze lingering on hers.   “All right, fair enough,” he admitted, with a loose shrug, his smile lingering, a glitter of momentary amusement clear in his expression.  

“Still, that’s….”  Words weren’t his strong suit.   Finding the ones that meant what he meant, not just whatever actually came out, especially in situations like this where …SENSITIVITY was required ….  His tongue worked against the back of his teeth for a long moment.  “That’s – a THING – a … you know, a big… thing, that’s one of those …  can’t really… go backwards kinda things.”  Yes.  Because she hadn’t figured that out on her own already.  “I just – I’m not … saying… NO,” he added, again with a certain degree of CAUTION.  ‘No’ and ‘Elektra’ NEVER mixed well and he had the scars to prove it.  “You and me, we…. both kinda have a tendency of pissing people off, for starters,” he settled on, a crease creeping in between his brows as he spoke, the thought clearly one that he considered worth the risk of mentioning first.   “We’re not exactly… white collar live by the rules kind of mom and pop potential.”

“Not now.” He was internally panicking, she could tell and for once she decided to put him out of his misery a little rather than letting him hang out to dry. “Not yet.” They had time. With her money? They could have all of it.

The fact that this was turning into a calm conversation was a sign to her of it already going well, she had fully anticipated what happened last time to come around again. Had been waiting with bated breath for the excuses he’d come up with the exit scene, even though she knew he had the day off. The stillness of his body was a blessing for once. “I’m just… being pragmatic about it.” This was her coping mechanism other than violence, it was to approach logically and with reason. “This has gone far beyond a back alley fuck and pursuing something… long term… would mean our plans for our life should line up.”

And a baby had been something she had written off of the cards. But that was before, when she fully anticipated dying long before it was time for anything like that. Now… Maybe she really did want it.

“I grew up around meths. I’ve seen people who lived lifetimes with everything in the world and they were… vapid and hollow, they’d rip an innocent person a part if it meant they felt something.” Elektra never resented the luxury she was afford, but she did resent the company. “The only ones who ever seemed to have any semblance of joy in their lives were the ones that had children.”

There was a slow ease, at her reassurances, as the conversation eased down from immediate, PRESSING matters to something more calculated, moreCONSIDERED and weighed.  His lips curled, something SOFT andNEEDY ticking across his features as she continued, as she spoke of ‘OUR LIFE’.  Still, his thoughts raced, pinwheeling chaotically in his head, and he tried to steady them, tried to slow the ping pong between the early morning warm and fuzzies that wanted him to throw all caution to the wind and dive head in to everything, fuck the consequences, fuck the world, together they could doANYTHING – and the twisting, grating feeling of panic and pressure that sat heavy in his stomach and chest when his thoughts reeled off into all the considerations of what actually went into something like this, the RESPONSIBILITY OF LIFE – IN THIS world, filled with pain and misery and loss, the kind of shit that he saw every day that haunted him when he let it –  

It was easy for him to forget, sometimes – when he wasn’t being a dick about something – that their lives had been so different.  Mirrored parallels, ships passing in the night kinda metaphor bullshit.  He’d never known the kind of wealth, the kind of comfort that was her standard quo, whether it was from her years in Meth society or the profits from her work – closest he’d come was when he’d been working on the Seizure squad, rolling in the proceeds of the goods seized and auctioned, or divied up between investigating officers and … it didn’t even begin to compare, and it hadn’t been til a few years back.  Before then, since then – hand to mouth, at best, like most of the Grounders.  

“I never really … figured myself for the type,” he admitted, slowly, his thoughts churning, but his words coming with care, with forethought, some of them more reluctant than others as he delved into areas he tended to avoid; they’d never really talked about his life before, before they’d met, really anything much from before except the basics.  Stupid-ass kid, getting himself into more trouble than he could handle, the Protectorate, in rough strokes, one of many subjects he tended to avoid, saying fuck it and signing on with the BCPD.  He didn’t know how much she really knew.  Maybe everything, given what she did for a living.  Maybe nothing.  “My, uh, my mom split when I was a kid,” he continued, his eyes sinking just shy of half closed, his adam’s apple bobbing briefly as he picked his way around the landmines in his head.  

“I think I was … three, maybe four,” a shrug, as if it didn’t matter, didn’t bother him.  “I don’t really – remember much.”  Maybe, her voice, the way she smelled.  Or maybe it was all in his head.  “My dad … he was always a real beryllium level asshole, I honestly think it took almost two weeks for me to figure out he wasn’t coming back, wasn’t til Social Services finally managed to track me down to try to toss me somewhere that I knew he’d actually been knicked.  Pulled down twenty-something for organic damage in tandem with grand theft.”  He hadn’t done the math in a while, some vague part of his mind wondered if the asshole had finally made it back into the real world, if he’d just turned around and got himself thrown right back in.  “Never really had – “  A faint shift, his shoulders rolling, tensing briefly.  “A lot of experience with the whole, happy home life scenario,” he admitted, slowly.  

It was something she had decided upon wanting, but not necessarily something she was ready to do, especially not yet. Especially not when she looked around the world and saw how bleak everything was, how soul-crushingly ungodly this place they lived was. Where bodies were expendable, where the rich lived forever, morphing themselves into hideous versions of what it meant to be human. It was the one thing stopping her from throwing out all logical thinking and asking him right then and there to start that life with her.

Well, that and the insecurities about who she was and the things she had done. Elektra had been a relatively normal child, perhaps a little too interested in the morbid, but she was as innocent as any other. The loss of that innocence changed her. For so long now she had been a being of death, she took life. She did not create it. Her life was blood and sinew and brain matter scattered on crumbling walls. It was not tea parties with dollies and tying shoelaces and teaching to ride a bike.

Could that change just because she wanted it to?

What if he didn’t want it to?

But he was opening up. And that was a start. Elektra listened with a furrowed brow, her concern over his past an ache in her chest she hadn’t felt in years. There was sorrow for him, for what he went through. And an understanding. Of both how he felt and that he wouldn’t want to sit here and discuss it in detail. “My mother was shot in the stack while she was pregnant with me.” Something she’d never even hinted at before, talk of her mother almost entirely off limits all together. “My father got her sleeve to the hospital in time for them to cut me out.” A harsh beginning for a harsh life. “We were never even alive on the world together at the same time and I still love her more than anything.” Or maybe the idea of her. Either way, Elektra thought that might be what she wanted. Elias could very well stop wanting her, but her child would love her unconditionally as she would love it.

“I didn’t even know here. Just the occasional story from my father. He was good man and I hear she was a good woman. I guess I’m nothing like them.” Her deeply inhaled breath was shaky, raising her eyes to his, fingers reaching out to brush over where his heart beat below. “We’re not our parents. You’re not your father and your mother leaving has nothing to do with you. I think we can be more than our pasts. Don’t you?” Something new to her, for over a decade she had been a woman dwelling in it, obsessing over vengeance, penance.