#I think we should talk more about the idea of thorns physically moving her body like in place of muscles.

[bebagerie]

I don’t think it’s my time to rest.

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 21 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly), physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 1,032

A/N: Thoughts on the chapter? Statutes as always, this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

After cleaning up the aftermath of the vampire nest, Julia glanced over at Dean, noticing the tension still lingering in his body. He was usually quick to bounce back after a fight, but something was off tonight, something darker. She wiped the blood from her hands with a rag, tossing it into the trunk before leaning against the Impala.

"We should go get a drink," she suggested, crossing her arms. "You know, to unwind."

Dean gave her a sideways glance. "Not sure that's a good idea, Jules."

"Oh, come on," she nudged. "We just wiped out a whole vampire nest. I think we've earned it. Besides, I'll even let you lose at pool. What do you say?"

Dean hesitated, but the banter in her voice tugged a small grin from him. Maybe blowing off some steam wasn't the worst idea after all, especially with everything going on with the Mark. "Alright, fine. But I'm not gonna go easy on you."

Julie smirked "Wouldn't dream of it."

They drove to a nearby bar, a dingy little hole-in-the-wall spot that looked like it hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint since the '80s. Inside, the lights were dim, and the smell of cheap whiskey and smoke hung thick in the air. A perfect place to unwind after a hunt.

Julia immediately spotted the pool table in the back and grabbed two cues. "Let's make this interesting. Loser buys drinks."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna take me on? I'm pretty good at this."

"We'll see about that," she shot back with a grin, racking up the balls.

The game started, and as they played, their usual back-and-forth banter flowed easily. Dean made a few good shots, but Julia held her own, surprising him with some impressive moves. Halfway through the game, she sank a tricky bank shot, and Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Where'd you learn to play like that?" he asked, leaning against his cue.

Julia smirked, lining up her next shot. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as she sank another ball, inching closer to winning. It didn't take long before Julia was lining up the final shot. She gave him a cheeky grin. "Looks like you're buying the drinks, old man."

"Old man?" Dean scoffed, watching as she sunk the eight ball with ease. "You cheated."

She laughed, tossing her cue on the table. "Nope, you're just rusty."

Dean grumbled good-naturedly as he made his way to the bar. "Alright, alright. What do you want?"

"Surprise me," she called over her shoulder, turning her attention back to the pool table to rack up another game. But as she was setting up, a guy close to her age approached, sliding up a little too close for comfort.

"Hey there," the guy slurred, leaning against the table with a smirk. "You look like you could use some company."

Julia frowned, stepping back slightly. "I'm good, thanks."

The jerk didn't take the hint, moving closer. "Aw, come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that. We could have a little fun."

Julia's patience thinned, and she crossed her arms. "I said no."

But the guy wasn't backing off, and before she could say anything else, Dean appeared behind her, drinks in hand, his expression dark. He set the glasses down on a nearby table and stepped in between Julia and the creep, his voice low and dangerous.

"You heard her," Dean growled, his eyes cold. "Back off."

The man, unfazed, sneered at Dean. "What are you, her dad? Relax, old man, we're just talking."

Dean's jaw tightened, and he felt the Mark of Cain stirring beneath his skin, the familiar heat rising in his chest. "You got three seconds to walk away before I make you regret it."

The guy laughed, clearly not understanding the danger he was in. "Yeah? You gonna make me, gramps?"

That was all it took. Dean's fist flew before he could stop it, connecting with the guy's jaw in a sickening crack. The man stumbled back, clutching his face in shock, but Dean wasn't done. He stepped forward, his hand shaking as he grabbed the guy by the collar, ready to punch him again, harder this time.

The Mark surged inside him, a dark, violent urge that was almost impossible to control. He wanted to hurt this guy, to keep hitting him until the anger disappeared. His vision tunneled, the blood roaring in his ears as he raised his fist again.

But before he could land another blow, Julia stepped in front of him, her hands on his chest. "Dean! Stop!"

Her voice cut through the fog, pulling him back to reality. Dean froze, his fist hovering in the air, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked down at her, her wide eyes staring up at him, filled with concern.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension thick between them. Dean slowly lowered his fist, his hands trembling as he let go of the guy's collar. The creep scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the bar, leaving them standing there, the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy in the air.

Dean took a shaky breath, his heart still racing from the adrenaline—and from something else, something darker. He looked at Julia, guilt flashing across his face. "I... I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," Julia interrupted gently, her hands still resting on his chest. "You didn't hurt me. But, Dean... you've gotta get control of this."

He nodded, swallowing hard, the weight of the Mark pressing down on him. "Yeah... I know."

Julia let out a sigh and slowly pulled away from him, giving him space to breathe. "Come on, let's just... sit down and finish our drinks. You could use one after that."

Dean nodded again, rubbing a hand over his face as they walked back to their table. His knuckles were raw and bloody, but the real damage had been done inside. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the Mark from consuming him, but he was damn sure going to try. For her sake, and for his own.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: [Volume 3, Chp. 5]

"Smells good and feels nice Warm to touch and mostly good to mention Like sunny days it's warm and light Now it's time to release the tension…"

Omar – "Best By Far"

"Salud!"

Erik clinked his wineglass with the Korean woman next to him then glanced down at the delicious meal that sat before him. The beef bourguignon had diced carrots, pearl onions, mushrooms, and bacon. It sat on a sliced toasted and buttered baguette right next to roasted red potatoes and sauteed broccolini dusted with red pepper flakes and a grated French Gruyère cheese topping. He sliced into the tender beef and took his first bite. He immediately tasted the thyme, bay leaves, sage, and sea salt. His mouth watered and he closed his eyes while chewing. The savory flavors made him think of the meals his father prepared with his mother. Food was family to him, and exquisite meals humbled him. What could Disa not do?

Erik sipped the glass of water next to his plate to cleanse his pallet before he tucked into the broccolini and potatoes. Around him, he heard the loud clanks of silverware going to work and the moans of satisfied dinner guests.

"Exceptional dinner tonight, a toast to Disa!"

Hollis held up his wineglass and all the others followed suit. There were twelve people around the enormous mahogany dining table. Disa sat in the middle of the table with Hollis on the end seat and Yamilet on the other end. There was so much food and wine and the guests took their time with the meal with great conversation. Erik felt uncomfortable being seated next to Alexis. Her man flanked her other side, and she kept bumping her warm thigh against Erik's.

The rapid-fire conversations made Erik feel in his element. He stayed quiet as he felt people out around the table. Disa drew him out when she asked him about the transition to MIT from the Naval Academy, and the others listened respectfully as he gave a short comparison. She brought up his studies with bioacoustics and the others chatted him up before they moved on to other topics with Disa's lead. She picked up on his discomfort at being the center of attention a little longer than he wanted and she saved him.

He ate, drank, listened, and kept his eye on Disa when she commanded the table. Yamilet went to the kitchen and brought back another bottle of wine, and the table grew loose with laughter and loud talking. The woman next to him asked him for a platter of toasted bread and thanked him in Korean. He responded back in Korean and that started an easy conversation.

"You speak, Korean?" Alexis asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"That's like, three—"

"I speak five languages," he said scooping more stew onto his plate.

"Five?" Disa asked.

His eyes went to hers.

"English, Spanish, Korean, French, Portuguese," he said.

Disa's lips quirked.

"A polyglot. I should teach you Arabic," she said.

Erik didn't respond because he felt the heated glare from Hollis. The conversation came back on him on how he learned so many languages fluently. He mentioned his mother, Aunts, and his Korean childhood friend Walter. He left out his Wakandan heritage. He could still speak his father's mother tongue, but without his Baba around, he lost a lot of words as time went on. There weren't very many Wakandan language books available in print or online.

"Everyone ready for dessert?" Disa asked.

Nods went all about and Disa stood with Yamilet. Erik jumped up and followed them.

"We got this, Erik," Disa said.

"I want to help. I was the extra unplanned guest. I should at least assist a little bit."

She handed him a tray of apple crumbles. Yamilet carried another tray and Disa picked up a silver sauce boat filled with warm caramel sauce.

The guests clapped hands and oohed and ahhed when they saw the sweet treat and Erik walked around the table until all of his dessert bowls were taken. He followed Yamilet back into the kitchen to return the trays and washed his hands at the sink. He gave a hearty exhale that he had gotten through the meal without incident. Alexis's boyfriend was not a talker and spent most of his time stuffing his face and keeping a low profile.

Erik returned to his seat and ate his treat without joining any more talks. When people were almost done, Disa left the room. They all heard music being switched in the living room from soft jazz to more upbeat instrumentals. She returned with a beaming smile.

"Espresso and whiskey in the living room. Give me a moment to hook up the hookahs and we can all migrate," she said.

Erik followed the routine of the others as they cleared their own plates and returned things to the kitchen where Hollis and Yamilet stacked dishes in a dishwasher and the sink. Folks cut up once they began smoking from three hookah pipes and vibing to the music. Those who wanted espresso and a hard liquor helped themselves in the kitchen and the real conversations began to take place. The room grew smokey, loud, and fun. Erik stuck close to a bookshelf and watched others as he cradled an espresso. Alexis bounced up in his face. The liquor had her tilted.

"Small world," she said touching on his arm.

"Yo, Alexis, just chill, a'ight. Your man is right over there."

"It's cool. We're cool."

"I don't like being in situations like this, so let's just stay away from each other," he said walking away from her.

The last thing he needed was a scene in Disa's house. He saw Yamilet grab onto Disa's arm and another woman's and the three of them slipped out of the living room. They giggled, and it made Erik curious. He followed them into a hallway that led to a master bedroom.

Disa and the women sat on a gigantic bed. She lit up a joint and puffed on it before passing it to her friends. She tossed back her hair and noticed Erik in the doorway.

"I was looking for the bathroom," he said.

"Oh, it's the next room over… you smoke?" she asked handing the joint to him when it came back to her.

He stepped into the room and took the weed from her fingers and toked. He blew the smoke out and her eyes looked tight to him. She was faded from the wine. The weed just hemmed her up.

"You are one entertaining young man," her white female friend said eying him up and down.

Svetlana was a tall, lithe Ukrainian woman with a strong accent.

"Yeah," he said pulling in the strong smoke into his lungs and letting the weed twist him up.

Disa tapped the space next to her and Erik sat down. She smelled like sandalwood and cloves. Her fingernails were polished in rose gold color and her off-shoulder top revealed moisturized skin that needed his lips on them. She was barefoot now and her toenails matched her fingernail polish. All she had to do was ask and he would rub her feet or suck her toes. He was so gone over her that it was hard to look her in her face. Could she tell that he was smitten? Nah, more than smitten.

When Erik was a boy, he sat at a dinner table with his parents and asked his Baba how he knew that his mother was the one. His father made his mother cry. The words stuck with Erik. Baba's dark perfect skin flared nose, and supple lips gazed at his mother with such a piercing stare.

"She was fierce, JaJa. So fierce. When I looked at her, I couldn't see anyone else. That's the honest truth, Son. It wasn't just the way your mother looked. It was how she made me feel. Strong. Powerful. Happy. Special. Curious and open to new ideas...just so many things that made me feel alive and whole. No other woman has ever made me feel like that. When she was away from me, I was miserable...I didn't feel like myself without her. When she was by my side, I knew I could conquer the world. That's how I knew she was the one for me. That's how I knew. And I love her more every day each time I look at you, JaJa. I hope you can be so lucky one day."

N'Jobu's voice echoed into the void and Erik closed his eyes and inhaled the weed smoke. His body grew relaxed and his mind floated. When he opened his eyes and looked at Disa, he recognized his Baba's truth. Erik knew. Disa was the one. He knew her mind for over nine months listening to her talk on the radio. Her physical appearance was a gift, but her mind was where it was at. She made him feel…open. To ideas. To people. To his studies.

"Erik?"

Disa handed him the last of the weed. He polished it off, and she took it from his fingers to throw it away.

Yamilet and Svetlana left the room to get more wine, and Erik stayed on the bed.

They were alone.

"I'm glad you stayed," she said.

"Food was bomb as fuck. Conversation good too."

"Told you. You are cordially invited to the next one. I'm thinking of making a rack of lamb."

"I'll be here."

She raised her hand and rubbed his arm.

"You are a gifted young man. Use what you can while you're at MIT."

Her hand stayed on him, and her eyes were shiny and beautiful. Erik leaned in and kissed her. She drew back sharply and held her hand up.

"Hold on now, I'm not part of that equation," she giggled.

Erik couldn't get a fix on her signals. The weed and wine probably had her mixed up like him.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's all good, Erik."

She touched her bottom lip with a polished fingernail, then glanced at his lips.

"Soft," she whispered tracing a finger over his mouth.

Disa pressed her lips over his and he felt his scalp tingle. He reached for her waist and pulled her against him, her soft breasts feeling perfect against him. She moaned into his mouth when he slipped his tongue into hers. His hand snaked past her waist and squeezed her backside. Disa pulled his hand away.

"Okay, you got it out of your system," she said with a soft giggle.

"Wait… what?"

"C'mon, let's get back to the others before Hollis comes looking for me."

Disa stood and waited for him to leave with her. Erik stood, but he grabbed a hold of her hand.

"I'm not out of your league," he said.

"Erik, your crush is really sweet. I enjoy your company and would like for us to be friends."

"Just friends?"

"Friends… oh, don't pout."

She pinched his arm when he screwed his face up.

"You give a taste of heaven and deny me access? You a cold woman, Disa."

She chuckled.

"I'm high, and will probably forget I kissed you in a few hours."

"I won't forget."

She walked away and he trailed behind her back into the mix. No one even noticed their absence they were so caught up in a topic. Alexis's mouth was twisted up, and it matched the grim visage of her boyfriend who was listening to Yamilet hold the floor.

"… we all know it's true. Even Disa will tell you," Yamilet said waving for Disa to sit next to her on a loveseat.

Some guests sipped liquor and only three of them smoked the hookah, their eyes glazed over and mouths puckered around pipes. Hollis stood near a bookcase nursing some cognac next to an Arab engineer that had known Disa from their undergrad days. His name was Samir, and he once dated Disa before she ran off with Hollis. Samir nodded to Disa, and she grabbed a hookah pipe and partook. Yamilet waved her hand around.

"For years Black women have been brought up to adore Black men. We fight for their survival, march for them, speak their praises and all I'm saying is that it's not reciprocated. They run around talking about being Black Kangz, but they shit on us all the time. No other race of men do this to their women, and I'm done catering to losers—"

"Losers?" Kwame said with bass in his voice.

"Losers. Am I right Disa? Out of all the men in this country, Black men have had four hundred years to prove their worth, and all they do is simp. You build nothing, you support nothing but your own agenda, and you trash the very women who have been your doormats for too long. Divest ladies. They are not the prize."

Erik felt the blowback and the other Black men in the room grumbled and protested.

"Yeah whatever," Yamilet said dismissing every one of them.

"Then who is the prize?" Hollis asked.

"Black women," Disa said.

Alexis and the other Black women snapped their fingers. Disa removed the pipe from her lips and wiped a strand of hair from her face.

"The sooner Black women accept that they are the only prize in this world, the better off we'll be."

"Prizes my ass," Kwame said.

Alexis slapped his arm.

"Black women should be happy any man wants to be with them. All that foul attitude and neck rolling, acting all masculine—"

"Hold up, hold up… neck rolling and acting masculine?" Alexis said.

"See, neck already bobbing and weaving!" Kwame said making the other men laugh as he pointed to Alexis.

"Let's unpack that," Disa said leaning forward. There was a glint in her eye and her lips grew tight.

"Black women assert their humanity, their opinions, their intelligence, and it's viewed as masculine?"

"You're emotional too. Can't have a conversation without Black women getting loud—"

"Like you are right now? I'm talking calm and your voice has gone up three octaves since I challenged your words," Disa said.

Kwame rolled his eyes at her. Erik stepped closer to the man. He was ready to smack the taste out of Kwame's mouth.

"Black men do belittle their women every chance they get," Samir added.

"I don't believe Black men have a monopoly on being sexist," Hollis interjected.

"The rise of bashing culture online comes for Black women more," Svetlana said, "I can speak the same topics online with Black women, as I have done, and I get less attacked than my Black women friends. I'm a white woman telling you this. Sexism is terrible to all women, but it is ferocious for Disa, Yamilet, all the Black women in this room."

"Black men are punks," Disa said puffing and blowing a stream of smoke toward Kwame.

"You must be one of those 'Men are Trash', women," Kwame said.

"Men are the scum of the earth. I really don't like them at all. But alas, I suffer from an affliction called 'I like dick' so I have to pick and choose wisely."

Erik burst out laughing with a few others.

"Black men built the pyramids, raised kingdoms, ruled in Africa…"

"Here we go. I swear. Why do Black men always want to bring up being Kings? There ain't no royalty over here. We were regular folks who got stolen, traded, and exported. Some Kings more than likely sold their own people, so please don't cape for slave traders and race traitors. Royalty…," she snorted.

Erik grinned. If only she knew who she had in her house. A real-life African Prince. If only she knew he came from a people who turned their backs on the entire African continent.

"Black man, where is your army? Where are your institutions? Corporations? Industries? Where is your backbone? I gave up on Black men being anything other than conquered weaklings when that little boy got shot by cops and nothing happened. Black women rang the alarm—"

"As always," Alexis added.

"—and that cop is not in jail. And more hashtags cropped up. Again, where is your army Black Kangz? They slaughtered a child in the street and you did nothing. They shot a woman in her bed. You did nothing."

Where was their Black army? Erik thought. Posted up in luxury, high tech, and protection in Wakanda.

"We built our own universities, we started the Civil Rights Movement…," Kwame's voice was higher-pitched and angry-sounding.

"Why are you yelling?" Erik asked.

Kwame's chest puffed out. Disa blew out more smoke and glared at Kwame.

"Powerful men do not let their women and children march in the streets against white supremacy and the police. They take care of their women and children. Protect them at home while they go out and face the enemy. The people who built those universities long ago, who stood up for Civil Rights? Black men and Black women together. But guess what? They don't make those types of Black men anymore. The Black women are still here who do that type of fighting with little kids! Little kids fighting your grown man battles, but what do you Black men do today? Nothing. You act buck online hidden behind dusty avatars waiting to become the next hashtag because you're scared to fight. You have all the smoke for Black women every day of the week, will kill your own at the drop of a hat over some bullshit, but don't have any backbone for systemic racism and anti-Blackness? No energy for that? You don't deserve Black women. Any Black man still getting pussy from Black women should feel blessed and lucky. The world doesn't deserve Black women. At all."

Disa sat back and the air in the room was electric. Yamilet smirked and folded her arms, and the other Black women rested in their own secret thoughts.

"You hate us that much?" Hollis asked.

His eyes looked spooked. Clearly, he never knew this about Disa.

"I don't hate you, I'm just tired of you. All of you. I love us as a people, but I recognize who the weak link is."

"Damn," Samir said.

"That's harsh, Disa," Svetlana said.

"No, it's not, and it's not your business," Disa snapped.

Svetlana's husband jumped in.

"Hold up, it is her business. She's married to me and we'll have Black children one day."

"Oh please, Matthew, you've never dated a Black woman in your life and we know your self-hating ass don't want any of your children to look like you! Svetlana was your get out of Blackness pass," Yamilet barked.

"Time for a musical interlude," Hollis said trying to cut the tension by changing the music.

"What the hell, Yamilet?" Matthew said.

Svetlana stood up with her cheeks reddening.

"That's not true. Matthew is a proud Black man—"

"Who doesn't want Black children and spends more time traveling to Ukraine and embracing your culture while negating his own. Black kids? Where? Connected to Blackness in Donestk? Girl, stop. Please," Disa said.

"Matthew?" Svetlana said.

"Your husband has made numerous comments in your absence about hoping his kids have your hair and your color. He wants them to have your green eyes and features. Tell her Matthew," Yamilet pushed.

"I want healthy children with my wife. I don't care what they look like. Honey, what I meant was that if our kids looked like me, then they would have a harder life and I don't want them to suffer."

"Being Black is just suffering?" Erik asked.

All eyes turned to him.

"It's… difficult," Matthew said reaching for his wife's hand.

Svetlana looked shell-shocked.

"Then build a world where it won't be difficult. We're more than our pain, bruh, but sometimes a few of us have to die to make this country better. If not, we're just passive sheep waiting to go to the slaughterhouse. Just another hashtag on deck like Disa said," Erik pressed.

"They won't fight or build up anything, because they're scared—"

"That's not true, Disa. I'm doing what I can to make sure my children have all the advantages I didn't have," Matthew said.

"And skin color is one of those things," Erik said.

"He's right," Yamilet said.

"You should be the last to talk, Yamilet. You're light-skinned and benefit from it," Matthew said.

"Yeah, I'm light, with two Black on Black parents, but I have full African features and hair that can't go through a fine-toothed comb. Any privileges I have, I understand why, and I use them to benefit my people. You can see my Blackness the minute you see my face or hear me talk. But I would never see it as a blessing to get away from my tribe, man. That's all you."

"I love my wife," Matthew said.

"You love whiteness more," another Black woman said.

The room grew quiet. Disa played with her fingers and rested the hookah pipe on her lap.

"Matthew, we know you love Svetlana. You've just been conditioned to be anti-Black. We all were."

"Disa, come on now. You've dated non-Black men—"

"And you've never dated a Black woman ever. That's a problem for me."

"If that's the man's preference then leave him alone," Kwame said.

"That's not a preference," Disa said.

"You women are tripping up in here," Kwame said.

Alexis stepped away from him and Disa stood up.

"The fact that Erik, who isn't even a legal adult yet, can see what needs to be done, then I don't know what you grown negroes are going to do. You sacrifice nothing anymore. You gave up."

"Um, Disa..."

Karen, a cute TA in the Science department stared down at her cell phone. She looked up wide-eyed.

"Turn on your TV," Karen said.

Disa turned down the music and tapped the TV controller for the flat-screen embedded in the wall across from the couch.

"There!" Karen said.

On the screen, a female newscaster with a trepid face filled the room.

"… right now, the Pentagon has stated that the U.S. Navy is sending the battleship U.S.S. Steiner to the area. If you're just joining us, breaking news. They have reported that two coast guard ships were attacked off the coast of Florida. We're not sure if the vessel that attacked them is a submarine… hold on, we're getting some live footage from our affiliate station in Miami…"

"Wow!" Hollis blurted when they all saw the TV screen fill up with images of a submersible that skimmed just under the surface of the dark ocean with bright yellowish lights that glowed. A military helicopter hovered above it. The submersible breached the surface slick and curved like the back of an orca, but metallic and bigger.

"Holy shit," Hollis gasped.

Disa reached out and grabbed Erik's arm as a powerful bright green laser beam struck the helicopter. The entire aircraft glowed neon green for a second and exploded mid-air. The cameraman shooting the footage cursed on live TV and the picture grew jumpy before cutting back to the newscaster who now had a pallid face. Seconds later, the news studio image was replaced with an emergency broadcast static picture.

"Are we under fucking attack?" Yamilet yelped.

Disa flipped through more channels and more emergency broadcast pictures were up. Everyone went to their cell phones, except for Disa.

"That submarine, that wasn't… what was that?" she asked.

Erik escorted her to a loveseat, and he took the TV controls from her and flipped to more stations. He found a cable news network that discussed the attack and replayed the destroyed helicopter while warning viewers of disturbing images.

"Who could it be?" Svetlana asked, "the Russians?"

"The Saudis?" Kwame suggested.

"The machine looked weird. Like a… like a… whale," Hollis said.

Erik's professor moved in and sat next to Disa.

"It didn't take much for that thing to wipe out that helicopter. Will a destroyer be able to take it?" Yamilet asked.

Frightened eyes watched the TV.

Erik sat on a side chair next to Disa's loveseat. Flashes of his past rushed him and he latched on to a memory that had been one of the happiest times of his life although it was a dangerous time too. Police in Brazil tried to kill and jail his mother in Sao Paulo. But his Baba called on Wakandan rebels to fly a ship that rescued them from the top of an apartment building's roof during a daring escape in the middle of the night. A Wakandan battle cruiser that could turn invisible and take out an American city like it was nothing floated down from a midnight sky. His family spent a glorious week onboard hiding out over the Atlantic Ocean, and under it, when a similar threat came for them. The Atlanteans.

That was an Atlantean warcraft. Erik was sure of that.

He remembered the talk onboard the battle cruiser about the Atlanteans flexing against the Wakandans. He remembered the red alert and the escape from the battlecruiser in a smaller craft that his Baba piloted to get them back home. Now it seemed, the Atlanteans were ready to come for the Americans.

Erik's future was coming for him hard and on live television.

Disa reached for his hand and not Hollis's. He squeezed it tight.

"It'll be alright," he whispered to her.

She squeezed his hand back.

Chapter 6 HERE.

###

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[ragingbookdragon]

An Unexpected Friendship, But A Friendship Nonetheless

A Jason Todd and Harley Quinn One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So I wrote this for @aurailia or @nitebirdie because she drew that wonderful Jason picture for me which you can find right here! I hope you like this, Jess! Love you! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Jason expected a lot of things.

1. Getting yelled at by Bruce for shooting serial murderers and rapists? Check.

2. Getting yelled at by Damian for calling him short? Check.

3. Getting yelled at by Tim for spray painting a billboard of him with penises? Check.

4. Getting yelled at by Dick for picking on his younger brothers? Check.

So really, it was getting yelled at by his family that he expected the most, but all things considered about his life, his expectations weren’t pretty high. He knew he was going to get hurt on patrol, knew was going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the chronic pain and learning how to manage it.

But the one thing Jason never expected, was to end up being friends with Harley Quinn.

And honest to God, the whole friendship only started because the psychiatrist they both went to accidentally scheduled them at the same time. A screw up. A monumental screw up. But it did lead to a revolutionary session where Jason and Harley spent most of their time badgering each other about their habits while the woman merely watched on and scribbled furiously at her notepad.

When they both left, they were in such a heated argument about which way would be better to deal with the Joker. Jason suggested a bullet in the head and Harley suggested cutting off his arms and legs. An excellent suggestion, he had to admit, but nothing would satisfy him more than killing the pasty bastard, and she knew that too.

Surprisingly, when Harley got to her bus stop, she grabbed the front collar of his shirt to keep him in place while she typed her number in his phone. Of course, Jason wasn’t sure what to be more concerned about: the fact that she’d lifted his phone without him knowing, or that she was putting her number in it and telling him to call her when he needed someone to talk to.

He’d responded that he didn’t need another shrink in his head.

She’d given him a pitied look and said it wasn’t for that, but for a friend.

And Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but three weeks after, he was dialing her number at two A.M. just to hear someone’s voice over the deafening silence in his apartment.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Cars, weapons, games, favorite childhood memories, everything they could think of. And by the time they’d finally talked until their tongues were numb, the sun had started peeking above the buildings in the distance.

He apologized for keeping her all night.

Harley laughed and asked to hang out on patrol come Friday night then hung up.

Jason hadn’t even told her who he was, but low and behold she was doing cartwheels on the roof of the building he was looking out on that night. And it should’ve annoyed him but hell, he’d grown up with Dick—gymnastics was something he was used to being around.

Halfway through their stakeout, she was perched on the side of the ledge, staring at the side of his head, and it shouldn’t’ve unnerved him like it did, but there was something about her bright blue eyes drilling into his brain that made his skin crawl—and not in the good way.

Will you stop boring holes in me, Quinn? He’d grunted. Pay attention.

Why? She’d retorted. Aren’t you tired of doing this? Don’t you wanna go do something fun?

Stopping drug dealers is good for Gotham.

I’m not talking about good for Gotham, Jason. I’m talking about for you.

Harley hauled him up and tugged him along, him barely resisting because good God she was relentless and headstrong when she put her mind to something. So, he let her. And she dragged him to the Bat-Burger down the block and shoved a roll of money towards the cashier, ordering one of everything on the menu.

And Jason found it really odd when he was balancing two trays in his hands while Harley carried the milkshakes over to the booth in the corner where they huddled in and started eating.

She held up a packet in between her fingers. Want some Jokerized seasoning?

He blinked at her and gently took it, sprinkling the red, white, and green flakes over his fries. And he wasn’t offended when she reached over and took one, popping it in her mouth.

It’s terrible to say it, but God I love this shit. She laughed and Jason’s jaw dropped.

I know! He agreed with a grin. I can’t help it! It’s so good!

Her eyes had narrowed at that. You should smile more, Jason. You look normal when you do.

Normal? He repeated.

You look happy. And that’s what you should strive for. She finalized and took the Robin Nuggets from his tray, grinning when he let out a noise of complaint.

When they could finally move after consuming so much food, she tugged him along to the department store that had closed hours before and while Jason wasn’t one to ever care about breaking and entering, he did have a problem with property that wasn’t a center for criminal activity.

Don’t be a baby. She griped and slipped in though one of the vents and Jason merely stared at the opening before he heard her yell to him. Get a move on! We have stuff to do!

Begrudgingly, he squeezed himself into the way too small vent and shimmied after her.

And Harley Quinn must’ve been planning this for a while because when his feet finally hit the floor, he watched as she started disabling security cameras and alarms in the entire building before spinning around and grinning at him.

Mall’s ours. Let’s get it. And she was off.

Bruce was not going to be happy about this but watching her swing that electrified bat at the glass windows, watching them shatter into millions of shards stirred up something devious in him and Harley was cackling when he broke a window with an armored elbow and yanked out the mannequin, tugging the black leather jacket off before shrugging it on.

He posed with his shoulders squared and strong and she clapped her hands. Looks good! Wanna go hit one of the jewelry stores and find some silver earrings to go with it?

Jason nodded and somehow Harley ended up piggybacking on him, giggling profusely when he started belting out Queen at the top of his lungs; she even joined when they got to the operatics.

And somehow, he let her convince him to go and help her raid the major makeup store in the mall. Harley managed to fill three backpacks full of lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadows, and a whole lotta other shit that Jason had no idea what they were for.

How much money do you think all that is? He inquired and she shrugged.

Probably a grand? Maybe two if I’m being honest. This place is a money-sucking-makeup-hog and I’ll be damned if I’m paying a hundred bucks for one set of lipstick and eyeliner.

She turned to him. Anywhere you wanna go? There’s a map out there if you wanna go look.

Jason nodded and walked out of the store while she was busy filling whatever belt pocket wasn’t empty.

After a few minutes, he heard, Found anywhere?

He pointed silently at one of the stores on the brightened map and she squinted, looking it over.

You wanna go there?

Wouldn’t’ve suggested it if I didn’t.

She shrugged and piggybacked him again. Lead the way, Jason.

He hated that the elevators had been out, and while he hadn’t broken a sweat carrying Harley up three flights of immovable stairs, his knees and his back were killing him when they finally got to the store.

He started wandering inside but stopped when she tossed him a duffel bag.

Fill it up with everything you want.

Jason tried to smile but could only manage a grimace as he stepped in and started going up and down the aisles. He wasn’t too picky with his choosing. Books that looked like they’d help manage his pain he shoved in the duffel bag. An electric pulsing gel pad went in too followed by a vibrating roller he could stretch his muscles on.

He was flipping through a book geared towards mindful chronic pain management when he felt her slide next to him.

Finding everything alright?

Mostly…this one is all about conditioning the mind to work with the pain.

Sounds useful. Meditation and mindfulness have been known to work. It’s really all about placebo-ing your mind into it. She looked at him. Jason, do you ever think about going to a physical therapist?

He scoffed. I already go see a shrink. Why would I go see another doctor?

Because your mind is one thing, and your body is another. Her hand was cool when she placed it on his arm. Jason, if you’re in pain, there are people who can help you.

He really wanted to be snarky but all he could do was glare at her. And what about you? Do you go see a doctor for all the things he did to you too?

Harley gazed at him for a long time before answering him firmly. I will if you do. Or… she started, then trailed off and picked up a few books on physical therapy. You can come to the apartment that Ivy and I live in and we can do it together.

And Jason blinked in shock because he’d never met a person who would agree to do something for themselves if he did something for himself, an agreement for dual help.

You’d really do that for me? For you too?

Harley smiled, big and pearly white, red lipstick a bit smeared in the corner from their meal earlier.

We’re both screwed up cause of what he did, Jason. But here’s where we’re different from everyone else.She linked her arm with his, leaned close and murmured. We’re not going to stew in it while healing is in our futures.

You know we’ll never be one hundred percent fixed, right?

It’s not about fixing, Jason. It’s about healing. Healing doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Memories, pain, it’ll always be there and no amount of management for pain or therapy is going to fix that.

She stared up at him. But it will remind you that you’re still you. Even if there’s a few broken pieces here and there. And no one can take that from you. Not even him.

Jason’s lungs were too tight to form words and his eyes stung horribly but he managed to swallow the lump enough to choke out his reply. You’re alright, Harley.

Smiling, she pressed her cheek into his bicep. Call me Harleen, Jason.

Not Harley?

No, not Harley. I only let the ones I care about call me Harleen.

Does this mean we’re friends then?

Oh, this absolutely means we’re friends now. Best friends, in fact. She tugged at his arm. And I think there’s a Wayne Enterprises outlet somewhere in here and I think we should leave Brucie boy a message.

Jason laughed and wiped his eyes, hurrying after her. Can we spray paint dicks everywhere?

Only if I can spray paint boobs.

You’ve got yourself a deal, Harleen.

Jason expected a lot in his life. To be yelled at by his family for being a pain-in-the-ass son and brother, to be injured on the job, to see a therapist every Tuesday and Thursday, to call his family every night to tell them he loved them.

But the one thing he never expected, was to find one of the greatest friends he’d ever had in a woman he had once been on opposite sides with.

He also didn’t expect Batman to come through the window of the outlet in the middle of their spray painting but that’s another story for another time.

[ladyartemisia28]

Loop of Despair: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Hurts Like Hell

Summary:

Dean Winchester could not believe that his best friend, Castiel was confessing his feelings of love towards him.

But the message does settle in by the 4th or so time that he hears it.

15x18 time loop.

Word count:1978

Warnings:Major Character Death (repeatedly), Language, Suicide/Sacrifice.

Author's note: thank you to @castielsbeeslippers for teaching me to add a READ MORE on mobile💚💙.

~

Chapter Title in reference to the Song 'Hurts like Hell' By Fleurie

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean sighed in relief as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?” Castiel asks and receives a nod as an answer. “I blocked her grip on you”

Knock

“Dean she said that wound was killing her.” Cas should with a small bit of hope in his voice. A knock interrupts his words. “Maybe we can wait her out.”

Dean walks away from Cas “Yeah and if we can’t?”

“Then we fight” he replies as he looks back at the door which has another knock coming from it.

“We’ll lose” Dean says as he reaches the chair in the middle of the demon circle. He turns to look at Cas who is now looking back as he continues his negative spiral. “I just led us into another trap.”

Another knock

“All because I couldn’t hurt Chuck” he looks downward. Another knock. “Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill and because that is all I know how to do.”

“Dean” Cas says resolute as he approaches him

“It was Chuck all along.”

Knock

“We never should have left Sam and Jack we should be there with them now”

Knock

“Everybody’s gonna die, Cas. Everybody. I can’t stop it”

Knock

This time they both look at this knock while Dean moved towards Cas

“She’s gonna get through that door ”

Cas looks away from Dean while he replies “I know”

“And she’s gonna kill you. And then she’s gonna kill me”

Cas glances briefly at Dean and then looks away once again.

Dean sighs and looks down before he says “I’m sorry”

Cas looks into the middle distance back and forth like he was going over a plan in his mind. He appears to have found something, gulps and furrows his brow with determination

“Wait there is.”

Dean raises his head and turns his face to look at Cas with the smallest glimmer of hope.

“There’s one thing she’s afraid of. There’s one thing strong enough to stop her.” He finally turns his face to look at the eldest Winchester.

Dean looks at Cas and gulps listening intensely as Cas looks away.

“When Jack was dying, I…I made a deal” Cas returning his eyes to look at him once more. “To save him.”

“You what?”

“The… the price was my life” Cas says his eyes beginning to water with feeling “When I experienced a moment of true happiness The Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever”

Dean’s face was confused as he struggled with a responses.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

Knock

“I always wondered” Cas’s face turned to look away for the briefest of moments before he quickly found the resolve to turn his gaze fully at Dean. “Ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be. What my true happiness could even look like?”

“And I never found a answer”

“Because the one thing I want is something I know I can’t have.”

Knock

Dean is confused and silent.

“But I think I know, I think I know now. Happiness isn’t in the having…it’s in just being it’s in just saying it.”

Dean has to break his silence and ask in confusion.

“What are you talking about Man?”

Cas has a brighter expression on his face as he takes a step forward towards Dean.

“I know, I know how you see yourself Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive, you’re angry, You’re Broken. You’re Daddy’s blunt instrument.”

“You think that hate and anger that’s what drives you, that’s who you are.”

“It’s not. And everyone who know so you sees it. Everything you have done the good and the bad you have done for Love.”

“You raise your little brother for love, You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.”

Dean can no longer hold his gaze.

“You’re the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless loving human being I will ever know.”

Cas’s sadily smiles

The knocking sounds further away at the moment.

“You know ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell” a tear rolls slowly down Cas’s right eye “Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you”

“You changed me Dean”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Dean asks still very confused at what was happening.

“Because it is”

“I love you”

“Don’t do this Cas” Dean pleads for him to not be saying these words as a goodbye.

One final knock.

The Empty appears behind Dean and he turns to look. Then quickly back at Cas as the door slams open Billie appearing behind it.

“Cas” Dean starts to say. Too many things are happening at once, he feels overwhelmed.

Cas places his blood covered right hand on to Dean’s left shoulder

“Goodbye Dean”

He shoves Dean to the floor before Dean can protest. Cas gives him one final fond look and then takes a breath.

The Empty grabs both of the otherworldly beings.

Dean is left with the silence before all of the emotion and tears break free.

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked in confusion as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?” Cas asks with concern.

“Wha…what’s happening?” Dean asks as he shakes his head to try and clear the fog

“Billie is coming after us.”

Dean stayed silence as Cas continued speaking. His words began to give Dean a sense of déjà vu

“Wait…this” he says quietly to himself.

He stares at Cas who continues telling him about his deal and telling Dean about how he was not a killer and how he was motivated by love.

Once Dean hears the words “I love you” he turns to look behind him a split second faster than he did originally.

He sees the empty and just panics.

“Take me you fucking tar pit!” Dean shouts as he runs full speed at it ignoring the panicked shout of his name behind him.

The inky darkness stilled as he threw himself at it.

~

He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked with shock as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.”

“Did it….”

“Cas, we are in a time loop” Dean interupts

“What?”

“You summon the empty and you…”

“I summon the empty? But how?”

Dean could scream, ‘You fucking idjit! You gave him the idea!’

“You say a whole bunch of shit about me. I think letting me think that you love…”

“What?”

“Which is such a dick move. The way you say it is really…”

“Dean”

“The one thing you can’t have? Like what do you think I’m going to think when you say that?!”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

“I DO LOVE YOU!”

…

…..

“…what?”

He places his hand back on the same shoulder

“I love you,”

“Uh, like a brother right?” Dean asks with an eyebrow raise. He momentarily forgets about the time loop. Cas gives him a look of amusement.

Dean trys to make sense of what Castiel is saying to him.

“You love me? As in flowers, and chocolates,….uh” Dean gulps before weakly asking “kissing?”

“I’m sorry if this has made you um, uncomfortable. But just saying my truth is what was needed to make me happy. I feel an incredible amount of peace now. I am sorry I was not brave enough to tell you at an earlier time.”

This caused Dean to remember what was coming. Or in this cause, what had already arrived. In his pure confused and shocked state he had completely ignored that The Empty had already made it’s arrival.

“NO!” Dean shouted as he turned to look back and feel the hand hit his shoulder as he heard Cas’s final words to him again.

“Goodbye Dean.”

He was again at the moment where he was pushed away to the ground. This time he happened to find his voice..

“Cas, stop!” He yelled helplessly.

After the disappearance of Castiel happened again Dean just wordlessly screamed at full volume.

~

Dean momentarily blacked out as his heart began to physically fail him. He found himself coming back to consciousnesses standing hunched over near the entrance to the room. Dean blinked this time with anger as he looked over to see Castiel finishing up painting a protective sigil on the door with his angelic blood.

Dean could feel the literal death grip on his heart ease.

“Did it work?”

Dean ignores Cas’s question as he steadys his body and then rushes over to the storage boxes.

‘Okay so telling him did NOT work, Damnit! I see now why Sammy was so pissed off during his Groundhog day loop.’

“We have to find SOMETHING in this room to help us with this!” Dean shouts He makes an angry noise at knock behind him.

“Why do we have all this useless shit!”

“What the fuck is this?!” Dean asks as he holds up spiky crown.

“That is uh the crown of thorns” Cas replies. “That would be of no use to us in this situation.”

“If it can’t stop Billie then WHAT USE IS IT!!!” Dean yells as he throws it full force at the wall.

“There is one thing that is strong enough”

Dean’s head shot up his eyes wide to look at Cas’s face.

“NO no nonono!” he moves back towards him.

“Don’t you dare Cas.” He growled at him with a pointed finger.

“Dean, I have something you need to hear.”

“I will set your fine feathery ass on fire with holy oil if you keep on speaking your truth or whatever.”

He brushed past his accidentally blurted out flirty comment.

Cas tries to start his speech when Dean decks him.

It only gives him brief pause.

All it does is cause him to head tilt and stare at Dean with confused narrowed eyes.

“what, was that Dean?”

“See I AM fueled by ANGER! You can’t tell me otherwise!” Dean laughs mirthlessly. “Don’t lie to me!”

“No you are caring you are fueled by love.”

“No, you are wrong….you have to be wrong…I’m not…you…” Dean protested and waved his hands at Castiel. He then looked away from Cas.

“I know how you see yourself. If anyone was their Daddy’s blunt instrument it would have been me. I remember the first time I saw your soul. It shown bright even after it had been damaged in hell.”

“In my whole existence the only thing that changed me was you, Dean. I cared for the whole world because of you.”

“Please Cas,” Dean’s voice breaks “please don’t, I can’t do this again.”

“Yes you can, you’re strong and brave and you will survive my passing. I have no doubt. ” Cas thought he was just referring to Cas dying once again.

“I love you.”

As he felt the hand land on his shoulder once more Dean felt his lips tremble and tears pour down his face.

“Cas”

The Empty makes it’s entrance.

Castiel tosses him and is stolen once more from Dean.

Dean lets his tired head fall and waits for his next chance to change things.

(3).

~

(2).

[redrobinhoods]

retrograde | chapter 1 | Foxiyo Week 2020

AO3 Link | 1,300 words (approx) | Chapter 2

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but one shift later and I had a multi-chaptered story idea. Will be finishing this separately from my other Foxiyo week stories!

Story Summary: Captured and brutally tortured by an extremist group opposing Chancellor Palpatine, Fox returns home to Riyo to recover physically and mentally.

Agony: torture, trauma, heartbreak  Day 3 @foxiyoweek

Riyo was jolted awake by a knock at her door. Shoving the blanket covered in used tissues off of her she ran to answer it without looking to see who it was.

“He’s alive.” Thorn said before the door had stopped moving. He swooped in to catch her when her legs gave out from under her. “He’s alive, Chuchi. We found him. He’s going to recover.”

She couldn’t find it in herself to formulate a response. Instead, she sunk her grip into the grooves in Thorn’s armor and sobbed in relief.

---

Nearly two weeks later, Riyo was laying in the same spot as she had the night Thorn had come to her with the same blanket thrown over her body. But tonight, there were no tears of pain. There had been tears a few minutes ago, but they had been tears of happiness. Now, she had Fox cushioned in her chest, asleep.

When the door to her apartment slid open, Fox stirred in her arms. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“We know.” Riyo cooed, bringing a hand up to stroke Fox’s head. “We know. You’re safe, Fox. I have you.” He felt unfamiliar to her touch. His regulation cut hair had been shaved by the medics, and despite the long bacta treatments the surgical scars that had saved his life were still raised and ugly. When Fox calmed under her touch, she turned to the man who had just entered the apartment. “Did they give you the report?”

“With a little intimidation, yes.” Thorn waved the datapad in the air. “Is he asleep?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t want to wake him. I have bad news.” Thorn sat down in the living room chair that sat catty corner to the couch. “His inhibitor chip was damaged.”

“His what?” Riyo hissed.

“Inhibitor chip, we all have them. Officially, they’re supposed to make us less aggressive. I think that’s stupid. My guess is that it blocks stressors in long term memory storage so that it’s harder for us to get PTSD. Either way, his is going crazy. The activity levels are way above resting. I have images from the scans, but I don’t think you want to see the state of his skull in them.”

Riyo’s fingers fell to the side of Fox’s face, where metal met her touch. “What did they do to his face?”

Thorn flinched. “Based on the stuff I saw in the room, I’d say they beat him with a pipe. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Riyo took in a deep breath and looked down at Fox’s face. The side pressed to her chest was unchanged, if still bruised, but around his other eye was a metal crescent that had replaced his shattered eye socket. The crescent stopped where his hairline began, turning into surgical scars. She didn’t want to know how many blows it had taken to break him like this. “And his eye?”

“Permanently blind. Too much trauma. The medics can replace it down the road with a cybernetic, think Wolffe’s eye, but it was the least of their concerns.”

Riyo bent over and pressed her lips to Fox’s forehead.

“I didn’t tell them anything.” Fox stirred under her touch.

“I know, love. We know. I am so proud of you.” She whispered reassurances until Fox stilled once more. “Why him?” She asked Thorn.

“He’s favored by the Chancellor. Seems like the beings who took him are part of this fringe group that thinks Sheev is a Separatist sympathizer. You know what I think of the man, but I think this group is crazy. He practically bleeds Coruscant red.” He paused, watching Fox breathe. “Do you want me to stay the night? In case you need help with him.”

“I would love that, Thorn. Could you help me get him into bed?”

Thorn nodded and rose. To Riyo’s surprise, Thorn slid his arms under Fox and lifted him up into a bridal carry as if he weighed no more than a child. She tried not to think of other times when Thorn would have had to carry his brothers like this. Rising from the couch, she led Thorn to her bedroom and pulled back the blankets so that he could lay Fox on her bed. Hovering over Thorn’s shoulder, she watched as he gently set Fox down on the sheets and began to remove his blacks.

“You don’t want your sheets to smell like a medical facility.” Thorn muttered as he gently stripped the fabric from Fox’s skin.

Riyo sighed. “Thank you.”

She watched as Fox’s eyes slowly blinked open then closed once more once he realized whose hands were on him. His torso had been spared lasting trauma, but when the pants of his blacks were removed she could see a patch of metal stretching up the center of his thigh. From the knee down, his leg was fully metal.

Thorn’s head tilted towards her when she swore.

Riyo raised a hand to her mouth, fighting back the repulsion. “Why?”

“Crushed every bone from the knee down.” Fox murmured. “Thought it would hurt me. Bunch of idiots. Couldn’t feel anything from L2 down.”

“What, were you keeping track of which vertebrae they broke?” Thorn scoffed.

“Yeah.” Fox admitted. “I was bored.”

Riyo bit down on the inside of her hand where Fox couldn’t see. “They broke your spine?”

“I’m a fucking cyborg now, Ri.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was genuinely funny. “Any other injuries I should be aware of?”

“No. Though they were talking about castration right before the boys broke in, so you can thank Squad Cresh for saving our love life.”

Riyo thought that she would have blushed had Thorn not cracked up at that moment. “Oh yeah, Chuchi is going to walk right into the Corrie offices and shout ‘thanks for letting me screw your commander!’ I can see it now.”

Now they were all laughing. Riyo’s mind was screaming at her that this wasn’t funny; this was horrible and frankly a little embarrassing. But it was Thorn. Fox trusted Thorn. She trusted Thorn. He would keep their secrets.

Fox was the first to stop laughing, raising a hand to rub his eyes. “I need to sleep.”

“I’ll be on the couch.” Thorn gave Fox a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulder before turning to the door.

“Thorn.” Riyo called after him. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Thorn stepped out of her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Riyo waited a moment for his footsteps to fade before stripping off her clothes and throwing them into the laundry bag by her dresser. When she and Fox were both in their underwear, she curled up next to him in bed.

“Hey Riyo.”

“Hey Fox.” She reached over to lightly rest her fingers on his cheek, beneath the metal crescent. “How are you feeling?”

“You don’t want to know. Riyo?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She said without hesitation. The disfigurations on his flesh were repulsive, but it was still her Fox. She would grow past the apprehension to love each scar and mutilation just as much as she had loved his flesh when it was unmarred.

“Ri, I’m scared that I could hurt you in my sleep. If I have a nightmare-.”

“Then I’ll work on my dodging. I don’t care if I get hurt. I’ve been hurting for the past three weeks, since the day you were taken. Let me hold you, Fox.”

Fox hesitated for a moment before giving in and pressing himself against her chest. The metal on his face was cold on her breast, but she pulled him tight to her and cradled his head in her arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

There were no nightmares that night.

[moonoreos]

fic: it’s a metaphor

Dosan remembers that first day. He saw her in the midst of a bustling crowd. He saw her, and it was as if time had stood still. He very well knew time actually did not stop, but it sure felt like it had. Pedestrians zigzagged through the paved concrete to make their way across the park, but he stayed immobile. It was only when their eyes met that he released the breath he had been holding.

Was that the moment everything changed?

It’s impossible not to agonize over what could have been in the aftermath of heartbreak. It was all he could think about for a good while. He spent years trying to beat it out of himself, trying to convince his wayward heart that it doesn’t need an anchor, but one look at her and he’s right back where he began. Time away did nothing to dull the sting. It remains just as acute as it was the day it found him.  

Or was it when it first dawned on him that sail off without a map held a world of possibilities?

She is leaning against his shoulder now, asleep and unaware of the chaos she inspires in his mind. The fire he stoked earlier crackles in the quiet night. He's not sure if the warmth emanating through his body is feeling its effect or the effects of her closeness that he has been starved for all this time.

Dalmi shifts a fraction, and the hair he’d tucked behind her ear falls over her face again. Reflexively, he reaches over and pulls it back for her. She has smudges of dirt on both of her cheeks. He thumbs over one side, and it’s barely a graze but he still feels the pleasant buzz of her skin. The smudge remains. With a sigh, he turns to the business plan he holds in his hands.

The possibilities were endless, Dalmi had said about Tarzan. Just how much could it learn?

Dalmi has always been a dreamer. A seasoned one at that who is keen on solving problems, not letting them become the nail on the coffin of the ideas she spins.

It was a concept he couldn’t ever grasp. To dream was to be brave, to want something so unfailingly that the prospect of failure itself would never be a deterrent. It was a terrifying idea. He could not set himself up for something that was just as likely to fail as it was to succeed. Life offered too many uncontrolled variables, too many uncertainties.

He flips through the pages, studying the scope and intended applications, the road to an MVP, short term and long term goals, and he can see it all so clearly. Dosan has never been particularly visually inclined, but Dalmi evokes something in him. She has a formula figured out, a way of imagining things, that immediately make sense to his one-track mind. She speaks, and he sees colors in her words—red, green, blue, and all the others he never thought of before he met her. He sees moving pictures brought to life in vivid sharpness, sees the solution of a problem he had never even thought of. Dalmi is a visionary, bursting with life and ideas for how it can be elevated. Dosan became familiar with the sense of fulfillment that had alluded him most of his life in working with Dalmi, in making her colorful, broad stroked dreams come true.

Perhaps that is why she came to be his dream. He wonders now; was it then that he reached the point of no return? When he realized that he wanted nothing more than to become the man who was deserving of her beautiful heart and the pure, unbridled warmth it exuded? It was the first thing he'd wanted unfailingly, even with the heavily skewed probability that he was going to fail.

Dalmi stirs awake, lifts her head off his shoulders leaving room for the cold air to rush in.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she says, not looking at him.

“You should get some more sleep.”

“No,” she says, decisively turning to him. “I didn’t come here to sleep. We need to—”

She is pointing at the Tarzan business plan still in his hands.

“Did you read it?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you think?”

What did he think?

His thoughts are clear as the starry night sky, but he struggles to verbalize them. This is another fork in the road. The first time he knowingly took the wrong turn. The road was riddled with several thorns, but the joy of falling in love with Dalmi easily overpowered any pain he felt, any pain he still feels. If given the chance, he’d take the same wrong turn again in a heartbeat.

But he needs to do right by her this time. It’s what Dalmi deserves. He will survive even if he is not standing next to Dalmi, even if there is someone else in place next to her. After three years being oceans apart, he’s just grateful that he gets to breathe the same air as her.

“What can I do to make you work with us? At least tell me the terms you want,” she prods, when Dosan doesn’t offer anything.

“Forget it.”

“Stock options, ten percent?”

“Dalmi-ah, forget it.”

“Or do you want shares now? I can try and persuade unnie.”

“The money I got when 2STO took over Samsan Tech,” he begins, steadying his voice. “I still have it. With that money, I want to acquire shares in Cheongmyeong Company.”

He turns to face her, holds her gaze confidently, as she furrows her brows in confusion.

“What are you talking about? That should be your money. Just join the company. About shares, I’ll talk to unnie—”

“That’s my condition.”

The question in her eyes makes the dull ache in his chest sharper.

“I know, you and Team Leader Han are…,” he can’t say it, he just can’t. “I will always respect your decision. In business and—, and in everything.”  

He looks away, moves to pick up the cup ramen that is lukewarm to touch now. He can still feel the weight of her eyes on him. It makes the storm inside his heart rage even harder. He reaches for the second cup ramen and pushes it towards her.

“Team Leader Han and I,” she starts, pulling the chopsticks off the edge of the cup ramen. “We’re not… we’re not together.”

It’s possible his jaw would have dropped to the floor if he hadn’t been chewing mouthful of ramen. He slurps the last of it and looks at Dalmi uncertainly.

“But Team Leader—”

“It’s not true,” she interrupts, hastily.  

Dosan would be much more upset with Han Jipyeong if Dalmi hadn’t been looking at him with her wide expectant eyes this very moment.

“I—,” he starts, and stumbles immediately. “I mean, it would’ve made sense if you two were together. He is your first love.”

“My first love, Nam Dosan from the letters, doesn’t exist.” She sighs, setting the cup ramen down. “My first love was an illusion, but my feelings for you, the real Nam Dosan, was never an illusion. I’m sorry I said things I didn’t mean.” Her voice is shaking by the end, her eyes filled with tears.

Dosan is overwhelmed, but his hands move of their own accord when her tears spill. He pulls her closer instinctively, an old habit borne out of the need to reassure her in times of distress.

“Dalmi-ah. Don’t cry.” He has her face cupped in his hands, wipes the tears running down her cold cheeks with his thumbs.

“I thought about you everyday,” she says, lips quivering. And Dosan can’t believe what he is hearing. He wants to echo her words, because it’s true for him too. His every waking moment was haunted by traces of her—sometimes as a pleasant memory that gave him the strength to pull through a difficult day, more often as an omnipresent ache in the hollow of his chest. He wants to tell her these things, so she knows what she means to him, but there is a knot in his throat that he can’t unentangle. All he can bring himself to say is, “Why?"

She blinks back her tears, looks at him in confusion. “Why do you like me?” He asks again.

He continues when she doesn’t offer a response. “I am not the one who wrote the letters. I’m not the one who comforted you. I lied to you, I hurt you. Why do you like me?”

Dosan feels tears stinging the corner of his own eyes. He’s still recovering from the whiplash after learning that Dalmi is not with Han Jipyeong, but these doubts have plagued him for a long time. Even when things were fine between them, before the house of cards crumbled, he could never be sure that it was really him that Dalmi liked.

She takes a deep breath, reaches for his hands that are still cupping her face. Her hands bring a sharp awareness, but Dosan doesn’t flinch. It warms his heart instead as she uses her own hand to steady his and nuzzles her cheek into his palm further.

Sensing what is coming next, he beats her to the punch. “You like my hands. Only my hands. How can that beat someone you held in your heart for fifteen years?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” The pain in her eyes is a pinch in his own chest. He would do anything to take it away from her, but he needs to know for certain so he persists.

“Why do you like me?”

“It’s a metaphor,” she says, squeezing his hand.

“What?"

“Your hands. They’re so much more than just that, they're all of you. I like you because of you. You’re the whole and only reason.”  

It takes a moment for him to process this but when he does, he is dizzy with relief. Dosan feels his heart soar, and suddenly, he is a different kind of overwhelmed. Tears spill over his eyes, but he's smiling through them. Dalmi’s eyes soften, and mirror the relief on his own. For the first time in a really long time, it feels like they are on the same page again. And that means everything to him.

His eyes slip to her parted lips, his thumb inches closer and just barely grazes the tip of her cupid’s bow. She closes her eyes at that. Dosan doesn’t know much about physical intimacy, but he knows that that's a green light.

Nam Dosan has relived their first kiss countless times since that blissful evening on the Morning Group rooftop. He had been so sure he would never forget the softness of her lips, the dizzying force of her fondness. It had been one of the few things that kept him going when he woke up in a foreign city, not knowing how he fit in, for three years.

When their lips touch, he knows his memory had failed him. Her lips are ice cold but gliding his own against it is a high like no other. They kiss slowly at first, like they are building a fire from the sparks that fly between them. She moves closer, snakes her arms around his neck, and the fire ignites in earnest. Dosan chases after the heat, licks it off her bottom lip, and feels her breath hitche. Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss but he can’t bring himself to put much distance between them. Dalmi’s cheeks are tinted pink, and the smudges of dirt do nothing to deter from the picture of loveliness she makes.

She opens her eyes after a moment, like she’s waking up from a daze. Her pupils are dilated, and her brows raised in question.

“Thank you,” he says, voice hoarse and overcome with emotion. He doesn’t wait for a response, immediately leans back in and closes the gap between them. There’s so much more that needs to be said, but it can wait. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and the sun will bring with it light and clarity.

For now though, under the cloak of the starry night, Dosan wants to curl closer to her warmth, and whisper his boundless longing into her lips.

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve: Mask of Darkness

Two pairs of brilliant eyes locked on Kai: one brown and one gold. He felt almost nervous to have such intense stares on his body, something he was not used to, and shrunk back a little bit. He was acclimated to hundreds of people gazing at him as he made speeches, but the stares of these two girls seemed to set his insides on fire. Or maybe it was just one of the girls...

"Oh." Iko's face fell for a moment, before her lips twitched up into an impish grin. "I was just leaving. I do have other patients, you know." Iko pointed an accusing finger at Cinder, quieting her protests before they could escape her lips. "I'll be back after I finish my rounds."

Kai nodded to Iko as she winked rather unsubtly and walked out the door. Cinder stared determinedly down at her clenched fist, her scars turning white and painful looking.

"Don't do that," Kai raced forward, placing his hand over Cinder's to prevent her from hurting herself. She flinched away, her expression shocked and angry, but all the same unclenched her fists. It pained Kai to know that she did this because of him.

Cinder didn't say anything, but simply remained staring a point that Kai would't see. Her jaw was set in a firm line, and her eyes were ice cold in deep contrast to the brilliant carelessness they had held before Kai had entered the room. His heart twinged.

"I came to talk to you," Kai said, not unkindly. "I have some things I need to tell you. You might not care to hear them, but you deserve to know." Cinder continued to avoid eye contact.

"I, um, know a lot about you, so I figured you have the right to know a little bit about me." Kai tried to keep his voice even, though anticipation of what he was about to open up to sent stinging cracks into his confidence. He had decided to go with Thorne's approach on things, to be gentle and open, instead of revealing how much he had dug up about her past. Honesty was not always the best policy.

Kai rubbed his sweating palms against his jeans, looking right into Cinder's face, but she did not look at him. "For starters, my name is Kaito Crown, Kai to you. You already know that, but whenever I practiced this in my head I always start like that." Kai blushed. "Forget about that last part."

Cinder's expression remained tense, but her face began tilting in his direction. "I'm twenty-one years old, I grew up in So-Cal in the San Diego area. My father is Rikan Crown, one of the most successful businessmen in the northern continent. My mo–" Kai coughed, trying to mask the pain. "My, um, my best friend is Carswell Thorne, who you've already had the pleasantries of meeting. We've been best friends since the first grade.

"I go to college at the local business school because my father wants me to take over his business someday. I should be graduating sometime in the spring. I love to sing, though I'm terrible at it. My favorite food is cereal, which my father detests and Thorne doesn't understand, but I love it. I enjoy writing and sometimes reading classics. I like knowing people and learning their passions. I'm kinda nosy, which I am trying to work on." Kai smiled to himself, knowing that he was doing a terrible job at working on his problem.

"I've never really felt like I have a purpose in life, though. When I was little, I wanted to be a journalist, but... things changed." Kai glanced down to his hands; they were bone dry. He drew his fingers inward, brutally crushing them into his palm. He hated talking about his mother. He hated thinking about her and her sudden departure. He hated, hated, hated–

Cinder was staring at Kai, all masks of anger relieved from her face to unveil a beautiful sheen of kindness. She had become gentler as Kai had spoken, and she reached out to lay a scarred hand across Kai's clenched fists.

She didn't speak, but her meaning was clear: Don't do that.

Kai relaxed his hands and the rest of his body followed suit. He let out a sigh, and smiled tight-lipped at Cinder. He couldn't seem to understand her sudden kindness.

"You don't have to tell me everything. You don't owe me anything." Cinder encircled her fingers around Kai's wrist absentmindedly, sending tingles down his arm. He couldn't understand why her touch could affect him so, but it did; and he didn't want her to stop.

"I'm not telling you these things to make myself even." Kai tried in vain to take his mind off Cinder's light touch. "I tell you these things because I want you to know me. I want you to trust me. I would like to know you." I don't want you to ever stop touching me, is what Kai didn't say.

Telepathy must have been a side effect of brain trauma, seeing how Cinder seemed to suddenly realize her grip on Kai and released him. His nerves burned with longing, and his cheeks heated in coordination with hers.

"I thought that I knew life pretty well until about ten years ago. My life was perfect; I had loving parents, a great best friend, something that I loved to do. That all changed when my mom got sick." Kai's words came out hoarsely, and Cinder's eyes widened with them.

"One week she was fine, and then she started vomiting and not being able to even get out of bed. By the time we found out, it was too late. There isn't much you can do with colon cancer, anyway," Kai said. His hands were trembling.

"She died a couple weeks later, two days after I turned twelve." Kai looked around the room, no longer able to stand Cinder's pitying look. This girl had suffered more than Kai could imagine, and yet she showed him compassion. An abrupt laugh burbled from within Kai's chest. "Stars, I hate this place so much."

Cinder flinched, but Kai didn't even notice. "I remember the white walls, and how they tried to mask the stench of death and cleaning product with flowers. I hate flowers too."

"In fact," Kai's voice entered into hysterics. "I hate her. I hate how she left me. I hate how everything beautiful and terrible reminds me of her. I hate it all."

A sob broke from within Kai, and his body shook with cries of despair as he covered his face in his hands. Cinder sat there, staring at a broken boy who claimed hate from a soul full of nothing but love. There was no hate inside him, only the agony that came with loving a person so deeply.

"You don't mean that," Cinder whispered. Kai jumped up to stare at her.

"Yes, I do mean it."

"No, you don't," Cinder said. "You speak with pain and passion, and the greatest cause of both is love. Nothing hurts more than to have someone who means the world to you leave it. Just... trust me on this one."

Kai stared at his angel in wonder. Her words were full of empathy, knowledge, and too much sadness for a girl so young. She was such a startling creature, full of light but surrounded by darkness; her cloak of shadows masking the luminous kindness within her heart.

"I..." Cinder cleared her throat. "My mother left me when I was six. She was taken to prison for drugs, and I haven't heard a word from her since. I thought that I hated her too, but I don't. I can't."

Kai listened to her words intently, eating them like a starved man. He digested what she said, internally noting that while she was being open, she was also lying; that is, if what Cress said was true.

"After that, I lived in Foster Homes until I was seventeen. None of them wanted me. None of them loved me. In over ten years of too many families, there were only ever two people that I loved and returned the burden." Cinder's eyes hollowed with darkness.

"The first was a boy, and his name was Ran. Ran Kesley. I was thirteen, and he was fourteen. He was my first real friend. He cared for me in a way that no one had ever before. His parents and older brother were kind to me as well, but Ran was the only one who loved me.

"The second was a girl, my sister, Peony Linh. She was kind and pure. That nurse, Iko, she reminds me of Peony a bit. I was sixteen and she was fourteen when we met. Both of them left me, and it hurts more than anything else in the world." Cinder's voice was full of gravel, but no tears shed forth from her eyes. She was empty.

Kai wondered what Cinder meant by her words. He wanted to know what Cinder meant when she said she loved Ran Kesley, though he would never admit to the bubble that was growing in his chest at his thoughts. Even more, he needed to know what had happened to both Ran and Peony. But for now, Kai wouldn't ask questions.

Kai stood from his seat, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He faced Cinder, their bodies terribly close, and took both of her hands in his own. She stared at him with startled doe-eyes, her lips slightly parted.

A strange impulse took over Kai, and he longed for nothing more that to close the distance between them and place his lips gently against hers. He didn't.

"You're a good person, Cinder. You don't deserve anything that has happened to you." Kai said, tracing his thumb along the back of her hands. She tensed, and Kai feared that she would pull away, but she seemed just as starved for his touch as he was.

"You can't know that." Cinder whispered darkly, lowering her lashes.

"But I do. I can feel it. Just because bad things happen to you doesn't make you bad." Kai released one of Cinder's hands and placed the tips of his fingers beneath her chin.

Cinder's face tilted towards his. She tried to smile, but her eyes held nothing but grief. "But what if you're the one who caused the bad things?"

Kai paused, his thoughts skimming through what she could mean. He didn't like the idea of wanting to kiss a serial killer, so he tried to think positive.

"Your past is gone, Cinder. You can leave it behind and start fresh, no matter what you've done," Kai said.

Cinder leaned away from Kai, breaking off all points of physical contact. She seemed to be swallowed back up by her cloak of shadows. She was done being vulnerable. She had brought her walls back up, and her mask of darkness was firmly set back into her features. Her words were cold when she spoke a few moments later.

"If only your words were true."

[axe-trio-commanders]

Immortality

Second time writing from one of several AU’s of my commanders! This one is... actually this one isn’t even really an AU, it’s. Actually just the cannon for someone else’s commanders, and we decided it’d be fun to put Seremnis in there. This fic is actually about the first time she more officially meets the rest of this universe’s Dragon’s Watch! It’s... it’s an eventful meeting. A whole big lot of lws4 spoilers inbound, as well as a... just a whole lot of blood and gore and Bad Dead Things Sounds. Not sure if it’s enough to count as the... actual body horror I was going for, but. Hey, these things never go as planned anyways, so... have fun! (Also blame @actually-an-octopus for... Well, this au specifically, but also all the other ones)

"The rumors of my... immortality, are drastically... understated..."

She watched, comfortably perched in a high, shadowed corner of the room. It was far from the first time she'd been there, listening in on the lich's various conversations- most of them overly long, drawn out monologues. Thorns, he could make a monologue out of anything. She'd expected this time to be different, considering how much planning he'd apparently done, but... there he was, still droning on, and on…

She looked to the white-furred charr he was trying to intimidate, almost completely ignoring the norn by her side... quite frankly, she wasn't surprised that the lich hadn't noticed her hiding spot. He had quite the tendency for tunnel vision, and it was especially apparent now- all the sylvari was surprised about was that the Vigil commander hadn't come with, though she did spot his deadeye warband member. She'd long-since stopped flinching at the crackling of the lich's bones, the way tar and dried skin squelched as he righted himself... she had spent far too much time in this palace. But, now that her commander was here, and she finally had a reason to…

She was sure there'd be backup. The commander of whispers wouldn't come without a plan for backup- but while they were waiting for backup to arrive…

The small sylvari dropped, soundlessly, to the floor, the light of various sigils on the floor and up her arms beginning to glow a harsh white. She felt power flowing into her form, bark snapping and beginning to drip sap that hit the floor with a dull hiss, and then- it burst, a spray of golden sap lost in the abrupt swirl of green and black fog, raw necromantic power just begging to be used- and, eyes on the opposing lich, she'd simply... let it. The floor turned to swiss as a hoard of unstable, screeching minions crawled out of it from some dark corner of the mists, flinging themselves at Joko in a bloody mass and quite literally exploding as he tried to gain control over them- and, well, of course, she'd take the opportunity to siphon what power she could. She simply... relished in it for a few moments, savoring the *rush* that a mild case of possession could give someone.

"You- heathen!" Joko shouted, flinging the last of the minions across the room as it spattered against the wall in a sickening crunch, blood coating the gilded walls in a fine mist as it, too, exploded. "You'd betray your benefactor in his moment of triumph?"

She let out a dark laugh, voice echoing and distorted as her ill-gotten form faded- and she'd let herself fall directly into her shade, dark shadows swallowing her form as she concentrated the power she'd stolen into volatile form. Her vision quickly went dark, excepting a few lights in the room- larger, smaller blue, dark orange, bright orange... sick, twisting, tumbling green and black- she'd let the energy loose towards that one, watching a portion of it dissipate into the air, scattered.

"...-ards! Fix this!"

Hm... more of them. Extensions of that sickly life force- oh so familiar. She heard the muffled sounds of notched arrows, grinning in a way only shades could. She'd simply... tilt her head to the side, feeling the small breeze of projectiles whizzing past- saw the new life force begin to drain out of them in thick globs, and pulling it to herself en masse with a mere twitch of a semi-physical finger.

It was muffled enough in her shade to ignore it as she continued her attack, but he was still talking. On fire as he might be, as much life force as she stole and ripped away, he still-

"Enough!"

The small sylvari stumbled back a step as she returned to her physical form, staff gripped in both hands. He hadn't really done that himself- she'd simply run out of excess life force- but she was content to let him think it was.

"You are no commander, no dragon-killer," the lich snarled, a chill running up her spine as the entire space cooled considerably. Sensible alternative to ice magic, in a desert. "And yet you think you have the ability to dethrone the magnificent lich-king?!"

She paused, straightening as if she had to take a moment to consider- only for him to interrupt again, circling her.

"I am immortal! You should know better, I've been teaching you for months! All that training to take the glorious position of my general, and this is-"

"Do you ever shut up?!" Seremnis snapped- watching with immense satisfaction as surprise, then outright rage showed itself upon the lich's face.

"You have no idea how much I've looked forward to this- just listening to you is nauseating, not to mention the actual smell," she continued- taking casual stock of the awakened beginning to fill the rafters.

"You..." the malice in the one word filled the room. "You were made to serve-"

"Do you really love your own voice that much?" She rolled past a barrage of arrows, waving her staff across the floor and listening to the sounds of archers scrambling over themselves to flee. "I'd bet if you ever got your own speeches recorded, you'd do nothing but listen to them as your whole kingdom fell around you."

"And you don't have a loyal bone in your body."

"Sylvari don't have bones."

"Then what-"

"Teeth aren't bones."

"Fine, not a loyal leaf. You think anyone in your precious Tyria will let you back in? You've sold your soul to the highest bidder twice."

Seremnis barked out a laugh, watching the lich step towards her, only to be surrounded in a pen of poison, chill, and a flurry of small, invisible cuts.

"You really think I was ever on your side? I asked for control of your soldiers and didn't bat an eye when I took more! You really never caught on until now?" She tilted her head, tutting. "I expected better from you."

"Oh, you want 'better'?"

Okay- okay, that had maybe been pushing it a little, but he kept leaving himself so wide open for-

Seremnis danced back as a near-hoard of awakened began piling into the room, the dark shape of a scythe extending from her staff as she placed mark upon mark in the room, tripping and stunning them en masse, barely flinching as attacks began landing; claws, dripping tar, tearing through soft bark, dark sludge mixing with bright sap.

"If you really fancy yourself a good enough lich to replace me, why not prove it?"

The lich's voice rang out clear over the sea of snarls, and she... considered it. Prove it, hm?

She stood, ignoring the teeth currently digging into arm- focusing, instead, on channeling her own necromantic power through the awakened around her- to force them to stop, force them to turn on their master- and, slowly... she felt the teeth in her arm remove themselves, watched as heads in the awakened crowd her around her slowly, jerkily... 

With the sound of bone in friction with bone, tar and organs crushed to compensate, they turned their heads towards Joko. And, sap dripping in a thick ooze down her back and arm, Seremnis allowed herself a sly grin. A 'better lich', hm? Oh, she'd wanted to try this for so long... It'd worked, always, when the lich wasn't paying attention- sending awakened off on long trips around Elona, by the caves under Istan, ignoring the ever-increasing number of Tyrian awakened who, mysteriously, never returned- but in front of him? Really, it could make a necromancer blush.

Unfortunately, Joko didn't seem to share the sentiment, and she felt the ground beneath her... shift- swirling into sand, pulling her just deep enough to bury her feet before surrounding her- digging into wounds, then further, into and down her throat- she felt the awakened return to shredding through what remained... Distantly, she heard the lich saying something along the lines of "Now, where were we?"

And she grinned, croaking out her last words- a sigil of healing glowing beneath the mass, the life force of every awakened around her abruptly portioned in order to extend her own life just a little longer.

"...The rumors of my immortality... are greatly..."

She only heard part of the enraged response of "NO!" before shadows crawled up her arm- once again enveloping her as she stood- once again pulling on the life force of the awakened as they stumbled and fell, feeling the satisfaction of rejuvenation.

Her voice, once again twisted and warped, finished her earlier statement as she concentrated her stolen power to once again unleash.

"...understated."

...What? He'd probably plagiarized it from somewhere, too.

...

"You... you were a far better fight than I thought you'd be," Joko drawled.

She could almost see his smug face- but only almost, given that her own face was currently pinned to the ground by a smelly, smelly lich foot. The dirt irritated the several lacerations on her face, even as that somewhat paled in comparison to the canid's claws digging into her side to keep her down- and... thhorns, she could feel them moving, pressing into raw 'muscle', but... somehow, all she could think about was how absolutely terrible a lich's feet smelled. Experiencing death so often gave one a strange perspective on things, she supposed.

"I suppose I did train you-"

"You've ignored me for the past five months."

She flinched as he dug the bottom of his staff into her shoulder, twisting into soft bark.

"Silence! You learned by my mere presence. An unfortunate side effect of being as great as I am."

She suppressed the urge to groan. He was still talking. But... in keeping his anger focused, in drawing out the fight as long as she could... she had successfully kept his focus off her commander. In that, at least, she'd won.

"Really, I should have expected such treachery from such a morally twisted thing like you, commander," he continued- almost as an afterthought.

Oh... ohh, she was in- so much pain, but she... still couldn't stop the little, childish giggle that escaped her. "Y... you've never given credit to the right person in your llife, have you?"

She let a moment pass, let the question hover.

"...You're really going to tell me this... disaster was your idea?" Joko muttered.

Seremnis smiled, innocence playing on a face it didn't belong to.

"All she asked me to do was watch Aurene."

A beat of silence, and then...

The window shattered.

...

...She didn't... have the energy left, to fall back into shade. To heal herself. Joko had started starving her of it midway through the fight- with how easy it was to draw out, it wasn't hard for her to believe that the lich had intended to make her suffer. But now, with the awakened, evidently, no longer a moral option...

...But Symph was here. She'd be okay. Her commander was…

A thought rather immediately backed by fact as she felt a purer healing magic flowing through her form- taking a deep breath, despite the pain it caused. She listened to the somewhat muffled conversation around her, felt the druid's old fern hound lightly nose her face, lamenting momentarily that she hadn't brought any treats for him.

It was... it was over. The awakened were free. It was over...

--

...She stood, leaning against a decorative pillar in one of the more... shaded areas of the fortress of Jahai. She was doing her best to ignore the sidelong glances every side of the debate was giving her- she was used to it, she told herself. She wasn't a new little Whispers recruit. She'd given just about every side a reason to be suspicious- betrayed the pact, then betrayed Joko... even before she'd done any substantial work, she'd heard the angry mutterings of anyone who knew her to be a necromancer.

...But she was used to that.

She took a long breath, wincing at the pain that still lingered from the rather deep wound in her side. It'd almost made her miss this thing- and even then, she'd had to make the trip with an escort. It would be worth it, though, as soon as everyone was here.

She'd narrow her eyes as the debate between the factions droned on, despite Symph's best attempts to placate them. Seremnis understood the importance of it, of course, but... she didn't exactly envy the position.

"...Now we can finally begin the main event."

Seremnis looked up- catching sight of the increase in Mordant Crescent around the room, saw their drawn weapons. She narrowed her eyes, starting to pull necromantic power around herself, listening... admittedly, only a little closer, as the Archon continued his rant. Injured or not, if anything happened to Symph now...

"Awakened, sunspears- you're all pathetic. And now? You're-"

And the crack of a shotgun resounded through the rotunda, the Archon stumbling forwards- turning, in rage, to confront whoever had fired. Seremnis... let her magic fall away again, a small smile on her face. Yes, he was right. The main event was here.

The Archon only had time to spit a few more insults before Koss had him more... permanently silenced, even as many others in the room continued to look for the source of the gunfire.

And when they found it…

Another crowd of awakened followed Koss into the room- one in front decidedly Asuran, blowing a small trail of smoke away from a crystal-formed rifle, her wide, sharp-toothed grin seeming permanently affixed to her face as she surveyed the room. She was far from the only one there- Pact insignias, armor and weapons littered the new crowd of charr, asura, norn- even a few sylvari were scattered among the many humans in the awakened crowd.

Every one of them, Seremnis recognized. She knew most of their names- had them written on a long paper list of those the Pact had lost to Joko. If she hadn't snuck them out of the palace herself, before getting caught...

Well, they were simply unaccounted disappearances from the stealth-trained units Joko had given her command over. The great lich had no reason to suspect her replacing disappearances, after all.

Even if every one of them had disappeared around Istan.

Even if over half of them had been former pact members.

Even if he'd lost a quarter of his forces by the time the commanders launched their attack on the fortress.

What reason would he ever have to suspect a soft little lone sylvari, when he had plagues and dragon-killing commanders to deal with?

...What? She had always wanted to try double-crossing someone.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

Anton is a thorn in Liam’s side, and Madeleine has a question for Bastien

Word Count 3583

Warnings - some smut, so NOT SUITABLE FOR UNDER 18s

14 Loose Ends

‘As Queen in Waiting, I can refuse to meet him’ growled Olivia, but Liam shook his head. They were back at Applewood after the interview with Anton and his lawyer. He and Olivia were in his office discussing the ins and outs of what had been said. She stood looking out of the window toward the orchard.

‘To do that I would have to enact the ‘Monarch in Waiting’ clause’ said Liam ‘That would give Anton the power to make his own legitimate demands, and you would be acknowledging the legality of your marriage’ He sat back in his chair, passing his hand over his forehead.

‘What the hell are we going to do?’ snapped Olivia. She was more used to making a physical gesture to settle anything that she didn’t agree with, and burned to be alone with Anton and a sharp knife – that or slipping poison into his food or drink. The idea of meeting him and just talking made her skin crawl. She crossed her arms across her chest, hugging them close to her body.

‘The archivists and lawyers are going over everything with a fine toothcomb’ Liam sighed ‘If anything comes up they’ll let us know immediately’ There was a knock at the door and after a discrete pause Liam’s aide entered.

‘Beg pardon Sir, Lady Madeleine wishes to talk to you. In person’ Liam made his best effort to stay calm – something he had already been attempting for some hours now after a restless night. Talking to Madeleine was a small thing, but at some point he was fearful he would crack and lose it altogether.

‘Is she outside?’ he asked, and the man nodded. Liam turned to Olivia.

‘I expect you’ve no wish to meet her, my dear’ he speculated, and the sour look she gave him confirmed his suspicion. ‘Tell her I’ll meet her in the library in ten minutes’ he said. Olivia smiled in gratitude as the aide left to deliver the message. It was pleasant to see her expression change after the stress she had borne over the last few hours.

‘Thankyou Liam’ she said simply. ‘I’ll go to my room when the coast’s clear. See you for lunch?’

‘Of course.’ He bowed and took an adjoining door that lead to the library without going out into the ante room by his office. He knew that Madeleine would not be pleased at being told to wait. Sure enough, she was scowling when she entered, but made a curtsey all the same.

‘Your majesty’ she intoned.

‘What can I do for you, Lady Madeleine?’ he asked, indicating that she sit on one of the many wing backed leather upholstered chairs. She sat neatly and elegantly, ankles crossed and thighs angled toward him.

‘Oh please, do we have to keep up the ‘Lady this’ and ‘your Majesty’ that?’ She said haughtily ‘We were very nearly engaged, and we’ve known each other a long time’

‘Maddy’ he sighed ‘I’m sorry, but I would never have willingly proposed to you, despite my father’s wishes, you should know that by now’ He remained standing, positioning himself in front of her, straightening his jacket in a gesture that belied the informality in his tone.

‘Well that’s a moot point, as Olivia is betrothed to Anton Severus’ she said acidly. He cocked his head at her ‘I can tell you were going to enter into some god forsaken alliance with her, I’m not stupid’

‘That’s not something I’m willing to discuss’ he said in a neutral tone.

‘But you’re not denying it’ she sniffed. He pursed his lips

‘What do you want, Maddy?’ he asked. She raised her eyebrows innocently.

‘Why, to be by your side, Liam’ she replied ‘If you can’t have Olivia, who else are you going to fall back on? I’m prepared to forgive you your rejection and stand shoulder to shoulder with you against Anton’ Liam gritted his teeth.

‘We’re doing all we can to refute his claim to the throne, and I have faith that we will find a way’

‘You have to have a back up plan’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me what I should do’ he replied, and she smiled triumphantly

‘If the worst comes to the worst, you marry me to produce an heir in order to continue your fight for the Crown, in Cordonia or in exile’ She got up to leave ‘Considering your need for an heir, perhaps you should treat my offer with more urgency’

‘I’ll never leave Cordonia willingly’ he asserted ‘and I doubt that I’ll be taking up your offer, Lady Madeleine.’ His face changed ‘Give my love to your mother when you get home’ she said smoothly. Madeleine scowled.

‘I plan to stay close to you .’ she asserted, but Liam knew he had planted a seed that would hopefully bear fruit.

------

Back in her private suite at Applewood, Madeleine pondered her conversation with Liam. When he had rejected her after Constantine’s death, she was prepared to hurt him in retaliation, but finding out about his plans with Olivia and her arranged marriage to Anton had changed everything. Madeleine still had a chance at being Queen, and she would give it all her energy. Her thoughts went to the people most likely to support her efforts, and frowned as she looked at her phone. Her mother wasn’t answering her calls, and there were no messages either. She wasn’t at the manor at Fydelia, or any of their other properties.

The last thing she had heard was that she had been making a short business trip to Monaco. She knew her well enough to surmise that ‘business’ was shorthand for some sordid liaison. She had been gone for a few days now, with no word of when she would return, which was unusual. Ordinarily she would be bombarded with messages about when she would be back, and invitations to dinner or lunch if they weren’t in the same residence together. She bit her lip and thought again, beginning to wonder how much she should worry. There was one person she could rely on to find out where she was; Adelaide was always talking about Bastien Lykel and only barely concealed how attractive she found him. He had a connection with her that none of the other guards did, plus he was discreet.

She made her way down to security and was admitted to the office. Lewis was on duty and told her that Bastien was off duty. If she’d known where his suite was she would have gone straight there, but instead asked for him to see her at his earliest convenience. She went back to one of the lounges and listlessly leafed through a glossy magazine, and after a while Bastien appeared.

He was dressed casually, and she noted a change in him. She narrowed her eyes. To be truthful, she hadn’t taken much notice of him lately – he was, after all, staff, not nobility, and she didn’t really pay attention to commoners unless she had need of their services. He looked relaxed, not as stuffy or serious as she remembered. Then she recalled some gossip about him and one of the other staff. Well, if he was involved with someone else she wouldn’t have to bump into him at Fydelia manor as she had in the past, supposedly on duty, but in reality making his way back from her mother’s rooms. That hadn’t occurred for quite some time now, but it was a relief to think that it wouldn’t happen again.

‘You wanted to see me, Lady Madeleine?’ he asked, and instantly he was back to his usual self, grave and efficient.

‘I did, Captain Lykel’ she replied ‘I’d prefer to speak to you somewhere private’

‘Of course your Grace. Perhaps the library is free’ She nodded in agreement and he went to the door to open it for her. It was gratifying to be treated with respect. Lykel had always been deferential and professional, she noted, and she was grateful that while it was obvious to her that he had some physical relationship with her mother, it had remained a secret. They reached the library, and again he opened the door for her after scanning it for other occupants and ushered her inside. She sat in the same chair she had used not so long ago when she had talked to Liam. He stood and waited for her to speak.

‘Captain, I won’t beat around the bush. I haven’t seen my mother for some days now, and I’m concerned’ She saw a flicker of some unexpected emotion briefly cross his face. Not worry or surprise – something told her he knew something she didn’t.

‘Indeed. That must be worrying, your grace’ She huffed impatiently

‘It is. I wonder if it would be possible for you to discover her whereabouts. I’m sure the King wouldn’t begrudge you your time on such a matter. Anton Severus may be in custody, but that doesn’t mean that anti monarchist sympathisers might not target members of the nobility in retaliation’ His expression was more readable this time – uneasiness and a hint of indecision, she realised. Most people wouldn’t notice the brief flickers of emotion on his face, but Madeleine was good at reading people. It was a useful skill when one seldom betrayed one’s own feelings or thoughts.

‘As a matter of fact I know exactly where your mother is’ he replied, and she raised an eyebrow in surprise ‘Unfortunately I can’t give you any details, but I can assure you she will return to Fydelia Manor in the near future’

‘You can’t tell me?’ she asked coolly.

‘I’m afraid not’ he replied. ‘I am often told things in confidence, and this is the case right now.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile ‘but I may be able to get her to contact you before she returns’

‘I’m disappointed in you, Captain Lykel’ she snapped, rising to her feet in irritation,  but he moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was instantly taken back to the first time she met, when he was on his first solo mission as a guard and she was a schoolgirl, home for the summer. His grey eyes showed concern and he radiated stability and reassurance. If she had been able to choose a father it would have been someone very much like him, even though he was marginally closer to her age than to her mother’s.

‘Trust me Madeleine’ he said gently ‘She will be home soon. It’s not my place to tell you anything more – that’s down to your mother.’

------

‘So we have to release him from prison?’ Liam said incredulously ‘At the very least he’s guilty of kidnapping, and is most likely heavily involved in an attempt to kill Lady Adelaide’  The afternoon briefing with his legal team and security teams was not going well.

‘Unfortunately, until we can totally refute his claim to the throne, we cannot keep him in jail. The matter of the kidnap of Lady Riley and Miss Turner is secondary. Moreover, Lady Adelaide’s assault did not take place on Cordonian soil.’ The lawyer said grimly ‘We can however keep him in detention somewhere more in keeping with his demands’

‘I propose that we allow him a little slack and watch for him to trip up’ Lewis chimed in. ‘Once he’s in more comfortable quarters he may very well let his guard down.’ Bastien nodded sagely, pleased to observe that his confidence in his second in command was well earned.

‘Very well, unless and until we can lock him up in jail ready for trial, we shall have to find somewhere secure for him.’ Liam acknowledged. The meeting went on for a short while before winding down.

Alone in his study, Liam sat back in his chair, scraping his fingers across his scalp, tugging at his short hair and groaning in frustration. Cordonian law was different to many other European countries. Thanks to his father, the death penalty had never been abolished, and the law tended to treat nobility different to ordinary people. Having noble blood quite literally meant ‘innocent until proved guilty’, hence Liam’s difficulty in getting Anton permanently locked up in jail. His father had gotten over that problem by more direct methods – those that disagreed with him tended to disappear or go into permanent exile.

Liam would not descend to his father’s level. He intended to use the law to defeat Anton, but it was proving increasingly difficult. Sophia was only one of the historians, archivists and lawyers working round the clock trying to unravel the ins and outs of Anton’s claim. It rather resembled the chicken and egg dilemma. Could a noble who claimed to be the rightful King be guilty of treason, or could the tables be turned and the reigning King be ousted due to a legitimate claim brought by that same noble? At what point did the monarch become the rightful ruler – at the death of the previous monarch? At his coronation? The law was vague. There had been a gap of a week or so after the death of Constantine’s father and his coronation – a week in which Anton’s grandfather Alfred had come out of exile to claim the title but then disappeared.

In the meantime, he had the distraction of the Lantern Festival at Valtoria. Security was not as much of an issue now, but Lewis and his men had gone over the manor with a fine toothcomb. Bastien was going back there that evening, taking Sophia with him in order to see to the arrangements. Damien had decided to take a couple of days off to attend the festival. After that he would have to return to his Interpol duties – for one thing, Greece was requesting that Anton be turned over to them to answer charges there, and the incident involving Adelaide in Monaco still needed some attention.

He sighed. The festival may be one of joy and relaxation but there may be little peace of mind for him, or for Olivia.

------

Sophia kicked off her shoes to stand by the huge bed and let herself fall back onto the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling.

‘If this is a guest suite, what’s the master suite like?’ she called out to Bastien, looking up at the gilded plaster frieze and ceiling rose from which a modest chandelier hung. It had been a two hour drive from Applewood, and she was excited to be at Valtoria. It was late and she wouldn’t see the grounds properly until daybreak, and didn’t need to eat until breakfast. She heard him chuckle before he entered with their suitcases, wheeling them to the side of the room for unpacking.

‘I took advantage of my position for once’ he said, sitting on the edge next to her. ‘If I’m retiring from service soon, we might as well take advantage while we can’ Sophia rolled over onto her front and pivoted so she lay next to Bastien. The high ceilinged room had huge windows looking out to the rear of the property.

‘You spoil me’ she said ‘I wonder what we’ll be able to afford when we move out of the Palace’ She lay propped up on her elbows, chin supported in her palms. She raised her feet off the bed and waved them in the air.

‘We may be eligible for a grace and favour apartment’ he said ‘Though it wouldn’t be as good as our present suite at the Palace. Liam won’t throw us out, you know’

‘We should think about where we’re going to go. I’d rather have a place of our own – you know, choose something we both like’ she said. He reached down and rubbed her back, angling his body toward hers.

‘I can’t plan until Anton’s answered for his crimes’ he said regretfully ‘I’m afraid this bid for the Crown changes things somewhat and I need to be close to the King’ He kicked his shoes off and bent over to place them neatly by the dressing table, following up by taking his socks off with a sigh, balling them up to place in one of his shoes before he turned back to her.

‘You’re still leaving the Guard though, aren’t you?’ she queried.

‘Yes, theá mou, but His Majesty has offered me a post as advisor to the Council. I would like to take that role, at least until the business with Anton is settled’

‘He also said there would always be a role for me at the Palace, and I’ve been busy helping look through all the documents’ she mused ‘So I suppose it will be okay until we think of something else – if that’s what you want’

‘Of course I want to be with you, theá mou. I’m sorry I can’t be more definite, Sophia’ he said regretfully ‘I’m still getting used to the idea of a life outside the Guard. I’ve served the Crown all my working life, and I’m not ready for early retirement’ She shifted so she could squeeze his thigh.

‘We’ll work it out’ she said, and cast her gaze at his groin. She bit her lip and let her hand creep higher. ‘But for now, we really should test this bed. The room is a nice size, I bet the suite next to ours wouldn’t hear a peep if I should – you know, shout out in my sleep. If I had a nightmare…’ Bastien grabbed her hand and stood, smoothly rolling her over onto her back and followed her onto the bed, straddling her prone body and hovering over her, pinning her wrists to the mattress above her head.

‘You’re ready, my love?’ He asked, as a few days before he had comforted her on her period, and as usual they had abstained. Luckily for her, when they were bad they were short, so she nodded.

‘All over now’ she said ‘I need you’

‘Then let’s see if we can be heard’ he murmured. ‘I plan to give the mattress a thorough testing too.’ he dipped down to kiss the hollow of her neck ‘and any other part of the suite you think needs attention’ She shifted underneath him, her hips rolling. She luxuriated in the sensation of being held back, her nerves tingling in anticipation.

‘You’re a very thorough man, Mr Lykel’ she said throatily. He released her and sat up to unbutton his shirt and take it off. The sight of his torso never failed to make her tingle, and she reached to the hem of her top, seizing it with crossed arms and lifting herself off the mattress to pull it off as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. He got off the bed to strip them off as she unfastened and took off her slacks. She rolled over onto her front to watch him swiftly fold his clothes and strip off his pants, standing only in his boxer shorts, with the inevitable bulge that made her pulse race.

She sat up to face him and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, letting the straps down and dropping it over the edge of the bed onto the floor. He prowled onto the bed and pressed her onto her back again, stopping to kiss her belly and move down to take the top of her panties between his teeth. He drew them down and she giggled, lifting her hips off as his fingers deftly took over, pulling them down to her ankles. She let her knees fall outward and he groaned at the sight of her womanhood, delicate petals enticing him in. He stood to take off his boxer shorts, letting his length swing out, thick and heavy, and crawling over her again, lips to her collarbone.

She slipped one of her feet free of her panties but let them dangle scandalously from her other foot as he continued his attention to her body with his lips, ranging down over her belly to her mound. She stretched her arms up over her head to open her naked body to him completely, and he spread her thighs wide. Soon she felt the scratch of his beard as he explored with his tongue and she voiced her appreciation of his devotion and skill. He brought her to the edge, but just as she expected her release, drew away. She whimpered with loss until he pivoted his body to bring his hips between her thighs, and she brought her arms up around his neck to pull his lips to hers, tasting herself on his tongue.

‘I need you, my goddess’ he said hoarsely ‘Tell me you need me too’

‘Take me’ she whispered, and he pushed gently into her, gradually filling her until he was deep inside her, relishing her softness, warmth and the snug fit that welcomed him. It was short and sweet after their abstinence. Together they moved, naked bodies united in the search for pleasure, the rhythm building to a crescendo, Sophia allowing herself full voice as she came and Bastien followed. They lay back on the bed, Bastien lying on his side curled protectively around Sophia for a while before fetching cloths to clean up with. Sophia slipped under the bedclothes and they lay facing each other until her regular breathing told him she had fallen asleep, and he allowed himself to follow her.

Next Chapter 15 Up in the Air

[beesramblings]

You should see me in the crown modern!kylo x reader

                                     ты должен увидеть меня в короне 

                                                          Ch 1

“Ben Solo is a fucking dirty cop, and he’s working for Queen of the Damned, I know, it... it sounds crazy Rey. But please, please, believe me,  we have to tell Captain Organa and Sergeant Solo.”  Finn pleaded to Rey over the phone, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, both blending in the rain. He caught the dirty bastard in the middle of a drug exchange in the back alley of some bar, “Rey I saw him, with one of her girls, he spoke something to her, and then…he saw me... I don’t know how, but he did and I’m bleeding, I can’t tell if it’s a lot or a little, but that fucker is dirty Rey.” She sighed into the receiver, “Finn, you’ve been trying to get this guy on something for months if not years, but, Finn to go off something without evidence, you could be on desk duty for who knows how long or you could be fired, I just think it’s a bad idea, with you and Poe up for promotion this could derail everything.” Finn looked down at a puddle outside his cruiser, “I’ll get evidence somehow Rey. I swear to you.” He heard her hum in agreement, “I’ll see you later Finn, I have a report to write.” He nodded, knowing that Rey can’t see his actions through the phone, the line went dead. Finn leaned his head on the cool leather of his steering wheel. “Fuck, I can’t believe that fucker, he’s working for her, I know he is.”

Kylo saw through the visor, Finn was still there “What a little pest…” he seethed. ‘The Queen won’t be happy about our encounter. Be more careful next time Ren, or I will let her know.’ Those were the last words Phasma said to him before speeding off. How did that goodie two shoes follow him out here, he was boiling over, She would have his head or his body. Whichever one that would make Королева happy, Kylo was willing to give to her, even though he has never seen her, she has seen him, and she made sure Kylo knew. He jumped on his motorcycle and sped off in a different direction back to his hole of an apartment, he knew in the back of his head that she was going to send one of her “men” to rough up Finn and himself. He cursed under his breath, “какая чертова сука, она разрушит мою жизнь”  As he pulled up to the apartment he took notice of a few fancier cars in the car park, “Fuck. Phasma told someone…”  He quickly unclipped his gun from his holster, he had a feeling that something would go down in his apartment. He quickly ran up the stairs to his door, keeping his back close to the grungy walls, ‘God, this apartment is disgusting, I need to move soon, somewhere clean and orderly.’  He thought to himself. He saw that his door was unlocked, which sent a cold shock of anxiety through his body, his heart fell to his stomach. He slowly pointed his gun around the corner of the door. “Kylo you better get that thing away from me,” Automatically Kylo knew that voice from anywhere, “Hux what are you doing here,” Kylo growled menacingly, he hated his partner, both at the precinct and in the ring “you need to get out before I make you.” Kylo threatened while lowering his gun slightly.  Hux removed his grey peacoat and discarded it onto Kylo’s black couch. “ You had a little колючка follow you to a drop location” Kylo grimaced “I didn’t know that he was following me, мышь I know he has an inkling of something-” Hux closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head “Idiot. Now he has proof of you meeting someone. And that someone is a known drug-runner for the biggest mafia and drug rings. How could you be so careless.” Hux scolded Kylo like a young child. Kylo felt the bubble of rage start to boil in the pit of his stomach, he clenched his jaw in anger trying to quell the urge to choke Hux, he craved to bring him close to the brink of death. Then Hux would know who is truly in charge of their operation. Hux’s voice kept droning on in the back of Kylo’s head until both of their phones chimed with an identical ringtone, both hands reached for their phones.  

глупые парни перестают спорить, разрешают женщинам вызывать выстрелы. следующая капля 3:30 утра угол Итора и ��ариса.

Hux’s green eyes fixed upon Kylo’s amber eyes, “She is calling you stupid.”

 That was the final straw for Kylo, he grabbed Hux by his pristine grey colored collar and slammed him up against the drywall, “You don’t know SHIT, to what she is referring to you cretin. All I know is that you are forgetting to who you fucking report to. Both in uniform and out of uniform. “ Hux’s face was turning a slight shade of blue, ‘Delicious’ thought Kylo. Hux’s feet began thrashing and for one final act of humiliation, Kylo spat in the man’s face and then dropped him, Hux began sputtering trying to catch his breath. “ Get up you swine, and get out. You are so very lucky I didn’t kill you. It would be far too much paperwork and would cause quite a stir with the Lady.” Hux caught his breath and stood up, and grabbed his coat, “Fuck off Solo, and see you tomorrow.” He quickly ran out the door before Kylo could catch him. All the hairs on Kylo’s neck bristled when he heard his “real” last name, a name he had to use at work but had no real meaning to him. He quickly decided to pour himself a glass of whatever was left in his fridge while he waited to go out for the drop. His phone buzzed again, a call from his superior officer/ older drug kingpin.  

“Hello, Snoke,” Kylo said through slightly bared teeth. “To what do I owe the honor of speaking to you.” Snoke chuckled over Kylo’s sarcastic, yet apprehensive comment. “Ren, I will be expecting you and Hux over at Neskar tonight. I know ‘Королева’ has a drop tonight and I expect that you and Hux will be getting me what I need. She took something very valuable from me, so we will be taking something of slightly… lesser value from her.” Kylo exhaled quickly, it was difficult being a triple agent of some sort; a cop, an underboss for Snoke, and a ‘brigadier’ or a бригадир for Королева. And she has been good to him since she came to power. “Of course Don Snoke. I am willing to do anything for the family.” He heard another bone-chilling chuckle. “Good, good. I will see you tonight.” Kylo hung up the phone after that, ‘God I can’t wait to get rid of the old fucking man.’ Kylo thought, ‘If Snoke died under mysterious circumstances in the precinct Kylo would be fully in charge and once Snoke fell as Don in the family he could take over and try and unite both mafia’s if Королева would have him.’  Tonight was going to be a long night for Kylo. 

In your apartment, you were overseeing any possible attacks that would happen if Snoke tried to get his dominion back, which you would expect. “где, черт возьми, Хакс, моя сладкая фазма.” you cooed to your tall and silver-haired companion, though you two never were ever physically attracted to her, you were attracted to her power and the strategic mind she wielded. Her undying loyalty to you and her absolute brute force solidified her easily as your right-hand woman, in business and friendship. “Мой дорогой Hux went to go after the idiot Kylo.” Your eyes flicked up from the papers in front of you “What did he do.” Phasma looked over at you “Darling, it’s truly nothing to worry about, Hux and I will fix it.” You slammed your fists onto the desk “Tell me Phasma, as your Королева I demand it.” Phasma clenched her teeth, “He was tailed by someone, Kylo scared him off but not for long, it’s definitely someone who works for Solo and Organa.” Rage boiled in you, how dare that half-wit be fucking followed especially by a cop. “Hux assured me he would talk some sense into him.” You felt yourself stand up at your ornate table “Phasma, Kylo will not listen to anyone, especially that vermin Hux. Kylo could eat him alive.” Your partner took a deep breath in “ I know.” You screamed in anger “That fucker works under Snoke as a cop, and I know he is somehow involved in something, he must be stopped, and eliminate that thorn that followed Ren. We can’t have any chance.” You pushed the papers off the table. “Phasma, we were on the brink of an all-out war with Snoke, after I had the girls take his warehouses and help his ‘property’’ You practically spat out the last word, the idea of a man owning women and abusing them for other men’s pleasure was the reason you craved to bring him down. You needed to create a new order to this city and if that meant to take down the God-like man, with all officers either being too stupid to realize that Snoke was the puppet master, or most turned a blind eye to him. You knew that you were his Lucifer, and God willing you can bring him down one way or another. “ We will be in all-out war if the police, Snoke, or that Kylo Ren try anything tonight.” Phasma cupped your elbow, hoping it would bring you back from the brink of murdering anyone.  “I have a good informant, they said that Hux and Ren have meaning to meet with Snoke at Neskar, before our drop.” Your jaw gritted together making your lips into a thin line, deep in thought “ We will be there tonight, I should meet one of my бригадир in the flesh. It would be nice to put a face and flesh to their names.” You felt your breathing slow to a more controlled and still slightly enraged, you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, “Phasma, I want them to all know who, they are dealing with. If that means we have to go all-in with how we dress and how I interact with all of the men, then so be it. But I cannot have any of them forget who we are, and what they are dealing with.” The storm was brewing inside you, as it was brewing again outside. Snoke’s family, the NYPD, Hux, and Kylo had no clue what was coming, and for now, they were in the eye of the storm. 

[amicablestone]

Day 1: Beginnings (Not an Ending)

The Moriya shrine rarely had visitors but Sanae knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, the spot near the entrance just needed extra sweeping today, is all.

“All I’m saying is that the clock is ticking.” The visitor spoke like she was delivering a punchline but nobody was laughing.

Kanako replied in a pointedly even tone “Is that a threat?”

Sanae stole the briefest of glances through the entryway, the newcomer might have been European, or maybe that was just the blond hair, not that Sanae could throw stones. In any case, her voice still had a mirthful edge.

“An observation. I’ll get out of your hair for now, but remember, the position won’t be open forever.”

Sanae tensed, waiting for the stranger to pass by her hiding spot. Nothing happened for a moment and she realized that she never saw this person enter the shrine either. She was debating whether it was safe to move again when Kanako called from inside, “Come on in Sanae, I know you're out there”

She walked into the building with her head down, ready to apologize.

“Save it,” there was warmth in the wind god’s voice, “you should be a part of this conversation”

Sanae looked around the room,  Kanako was still siting near the center and Suwako waved cheerily at her from a corner, but her other hand was clenched in a fist. There was no sign of the blond woman.

“That was a representative for a...” Kanako searched for the word, “sanctuary for youkai.”

Sanae wanted to say ‘Youkai aren’t real’ but she reminded herself that she was talking to the two gods that raised her, so she settled on “Does a place like that really exist?”

“Many do, actually. Fear is almost as rare as faith in the modern age. Before the youkais’ power completely disappeared several distinct groups managed to carve out there own realms around isolated villages where conditions where more favorable.” Kanako explained.

“Most don’t have people going door-to-door like they’re selling shoddy knives, though” Suwako interjected.

“This particular realm, Gensokyo,” Kanako continued unabated, “is somewhat unique in that order is maintained both by youkai in the know, like that woman, and a handful of powerful humans.”

Sanae nodded along, though honestly it was a lot to take in, “Is that the ‘position’ she was talking about?”

Kanako shook her head as she stood up, “Apparently some of the more eusocial species are butting heads, best case scenario is the realm is more vulnerable to foreign invaders while they have their spat, worst case: full on civil war. We’re to shore up defenses and try to arbitrate the conflict.”

“Dumb muscle and playing babysitter to a bunch of man-eaters.” translated Suwako.

Sanae paled at the joke but kept her eyes on Kanako, “If they where really cannibals you wouldn't have let that woman just walk away...or whatever she did!”

She sighed with a smile that either said ‘You know me too well’ or ‘You give me too much credit’. “’Cannibal’ isn’t the right word, but you’re right, by all accounts Gensokyo is remarkably safe for a youkai realm, that’s why I’m even considering this, however our congregation would still not be human and we can’t forget that.”

Now Sanae’s head was spinning. “Wait, would that even work? If it could why do the youkai even need humans? Why don’t they just like…sit in a circle and believe in each other?”

That earned a croak of laughter from Suwako, though Sanae thought it was a legitimate question.

Kanako put a hand on the girl’s shoulder to try and steady her. “Belief can only be generated by humans, but the believed in can cultivate it and pass it on themselves, however...”

“A human worshiped as a god by youkai, who knows what would happen to you!” Suwako laughed again, “but you definitely wouldn’t stay human for long!”

Kanako shot the cackling god a dirty look over her shoulder while Sanae found herself completely tongue tied. Who would she be if she wasn't human?  Would she still even be herself? But…

“I think we should go”

Suwako stopped laughing and Kanako couldn’t keep the surprised look off her face.

“This is the opportunity we’ve been looking for, and the last thing I want to do is hold you two back, and”, she took a breath, “I’ve always been more god than human anyway.”

Kanako squeezed her shoulder affectionately, “That’s very brave of you but there’s still a lot of things to consider. It’s not a decision to be made lightly”

Suddenly, Suwako slammed open the back door leading to the lake. “I disagree. It’s a terrible idea and we shouldn’t do it.” She walked out into the wilderness. “Decision made.”

By the time Sanae found Suwako, sitting on the far side of the lake skipping stones, the sun had almost started to set.

She wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure for what.

“You where supposed to say you didn’t want to go, she would have listened to you.” Suwako said dejectedly as her descendant approached. “Though, I guess that’s what I get for pushing you like that. I forget how stubborn you can be sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, but I meant what I said. Also … when that woman said time was running out, she was taking about you wasn’t she?”

“So what if she was?” She tossed another stone. “My time will come when it comes, you shouldn't be worried about it.”

“But I am worried! If you were to throw your life away for my sake I wouldn’t be able to live with myself!”

“Enough!” Suwako hurled a rock overhead and where it landed the lake boiled with unseen bodies. “Have I gotten so weak that I no longer get a say in where I die!”

Sanae took a step back, she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen the lake god this upset.

Suwako sighed and the water calmed. “I’m sorry Sanae, but this isn’t about you. The truth is this isn’t the first time I’ve seen the games this woman is playing.” She shifted on the ground so they were facing each other.

“A long, long time ago a bunch of hoity toity gods decided they were too good for human followers so they went around demanding a tithe from every local god they could find.

“Kanako refused of course, but these gods where tough and she ended up having to flee Suwa. She was able to live on the lamb for a while, until she caught wind that an old thorn in her side,”-Suwako flicked a thumb at herself-”had used her absence to take over her home.

“So she returned to Suwa, deposed the despot, tried to face the gods head on, and lost, hard.” She looked down, “things got really bad after that. When you try to go against the natural order of things people always get hurt, and it’s never the ones who deserve it. I refuse to be the reason Kanako walks into that kind of hell. Not again. If I did, well,” she looked at Sanae darkly with too-large eyes, “I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“That’s quite enough.”

They both jumped at the noise. For someone who had to duck through doorways, Kanako had a knack for sneaking up on people.

“Sanae, be a dear and go see if you can’t dig up some of your old textbooks.  If we play our cards right we may be able to win over the humans as well, but to do that you have some homework to do.”

Sanae made her exit with a confused look on her face, unsure of how much of that request was a joke.

Suwako looked up at the taller god, “What happened to your ‘things to consider’?”

“The biggest unknown was why you where so against the idea. Now that I know that scaring our child and throwing a fit was just your idea of protecting me I don’t see why we can’t move forward.”

“You do realize that this ‘youkai civil war’ is trumped up nonsense, right?  She wants you around because she’s picking a fight with the amatsukami.”

“I’m not afraid of the heavenly gods.” Kanako sat next to her partner and faced the setting sun. “And this time I won’t be alone.”

Suwako groaned. “Fine, you win. I want to be clear that I still think this is a bad idea, but”-she raised a finger-”I think getting out of the house some will be good for Sanae, and”-she raised another finger-”I know better than to try and stop you when you have a plan. Even if that plan is what, uniting humans and youkai under the banner of AP chemistry?”

“Physics, actually. And that’s only step one, the plan is the same as always:” a reptilian hunger flashed behind her eyes, “Save the world.”

Suwako laughed genuinely and let herself flop onto her back, “And get rich doing it!”

[lunaraindrop]

True Love’s Kiss and No More Roses Ever

Prompt from @justlikeregularchickens: 

I don't think we have nearly enough whump in this fandom, so I'd like to propose a "hella sick Q and a worried Eliot" if you're down for it!

I was inspired, so this is one of two answer fics!

This is the angstier of the two. I promise all will turn out well and lovely for our boys. 

Trigger Warning! There are mentions of blood and injury, but nothing worse than what we see on the show.

Season 1-2 AU Where Eliot doesn’t have to marry Fen but has to use a loophole to make her a queen to put a Fillorian on the throne instead of Alice.

Quentin stared at his bloodstained hand in shock. Blood dripped off his fingers at his brain tried to comprehend what he was looking at. He looked down at the wound on his abdomen where the thorn from the gigantic rose was still embedded. His bow furrowed even as he saw the crimson stain bloom and grow across his gray long-sleeved t-shirt. He wasn’t comprehending what he was seeing. It just, uhh, didn’t make sense? One minute he was excitedly tagging along with Benedict to see the famous Fillorian Flower Forest that had not been mapped since the reign of King Rupert…and the next? Stabbed by flora. Of course. Why not? Welcome to the shit show that is his life.

Right before it happened, Benedict stared up at the red rose in horror. “Oh no. These were supposed to have been eradicated years ago! Your majesty, we must return at once! King Eliot must know of the danger!”

Quentin had thought he had been minorly scraped by a passing branch. A nuisance, really instead of actual pain. He did not expect something that looked like the Basilisk fang in Harry Potter to be sticking out of his body. It didn’t even really hurt…

“Uh, ow?”

It appeared that the rose shot a thorn at him like some nature ninja.

He felt dizzy all of a sudden, even as he heard Benedict’s scared voice from miles away. Why was Benedict miles away? Wasn’t he just there telling them they had to go warn people?

“Your majesty?! King Quentin!  You’re bleeding!”

Quentin stumbled and landed on a large mushroom.

“Yeah, no shnit Sh’lock. Ha, Ben-dict, Sh’lock? Ha. That’d f’nny…”

Even as things became dimmer and more disconnected, he realized his speech was slurring. Slurring was not a good sign.

“Ben-dic…am I hav-ning a str-ah, you know, stroke? Am I hava-ing one?”

Benedict was back and so much closer than he expected him to be. His hands flew like panicked butterflies near the thorn.

“Do I leave it in?! Do I take it out?! I-I don’t know what to do, Your Majesty!”

Quentin knew from hours of Grey’s Anatomy his mom used to watch while during his visits with her that leaving the object in was the way to go.

He couldn’t tell that to Benedict, though. His mouth felt too soft to move. He had to watch helplessly as Benedict decisively nodded to himself and yanked the torn out of his side.

In an instant pain became his reality.

---

 Before that day, if some random had asked Eliot Waugh, High King of Fillory and the Physical Kids when he was the most afraid, he would make up some lie about a Manhattan bar being out of top-shelf vodka or something like that.

Before that day, if Margo was the one asking, he would tell her in stilted, hushed tones that he couldn’t choose. Every day living with his father in his teenage years was a nightmare. (But he would only disclose that bit of tragic backstory if he was shitfaced and partook of at least two illicit drugs.)

But nothing, nothing could compare to the heart-rendering terror he felt hearing a bloody Quentin’s painful whimpers and Benedict dragged his ragdoll body into the castle.

Eliot didn’t feel himself move. He didn’t make a conscious effort to do anything. He completely blanked on anything that wasn’t Quentin’s upturned face and the blood that should be in his body. Yet he found himself on the floor cradling the man in one of his arms as he pressed his very expensive embroidered shirt into the wound.

When Q’s beautiful tear-stained brown eyes finally caught his, his weak hand pressed into Eliot’s naked belly.

“El…help…Idunno…”

Something broke inside Eliot’s chest. Something fundamental that he never dared name when it came to Quentin Coldwater. Somewhere between rising panic and despair, a seething anger rose from the depths of his soul.

This is what turned Harvey Dent into Two Face. From good guy to scary fucking supervillain. You don’t mess with the people they love.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HIM?!”

A hush settled over the occupants of the room.

Apparently, Margo was the only one with the ovaries to talk. And send Tick to get the Centaurs. And actually, keep a level head. He really needed to than her.

“Yeah, what he said! Are we under attack?! Was it assassins?!”

Benedict finally spoke.

“It was the Cupid’s Bow Roses, Your Majesty! They’re back!”

Fen and some servants gasped in horror.

Margo put her hand on her hip.

“A rose tried to shish kebab Quentin?!”

Fen was filling her in on whatever the fuck it was that did this to Q. He didn’t pay attention. While everyone else was talking, Q would mumble some words in between weakly crying out in pain.

“A-a-ah, uh, a th-thorn, El. Ro-ses a-are, hah, danger…ous. Fuc-k roses! Soooo not romantic…”

Eliot, feeling tears slip down his cheeks, tried to give Quentin some type of comfort.

“Yes, fuck roses. I’ll have every rose burned in the kingdom so you won’t have to look at them again. Would you like that, Q?”

Quentin didn’t answer. He passed out.

“No. No no no no no, you can’t do this to me Q. You can’t. Please. Wake up. WAKE UP!”

At that moment two centaurs showed up and whisked him away.

Sitting bereft on the floor, hands covered in Quentin’s blood, he didn’t move until Margo and Fen pulled him into his rooms for a bath.

---

Clean and newly dressed, he met with his queens and the healers to talk about the health of his king.

“Well, Your Majesty, we do have some good news. The stopped the bleeding and healed the wound.”

Eliot sighed with relief…only to feel dread at the panicked faces of both Margo and Fen.

“Okay, so, what now? Isn’t he better?”

Margo grasped at Eliot’s elbow.

“Here’s the gist. The roses? They’re cursed. They were outlawed a long time ago, and everyone thought they were gone, but like herpes, they came back with a vengeance. So while Quentin’s healed…he’s not gonna wake up until we find his one true love to kiss him…”

Eliot blinked, then rubbed at his aching temples.

“True Love’s kiss? Are you fucking kidding me, Bambi?”

“Yeah, no. This straight out of some Disney shit.”

An idea struck.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be romantic love? We can get his father…or or Julia to-“

Margo just sadly shook her head. Fen was the one who answered though.

“I’m sorry, Eliot. They’re called Cupid’s Bow Roses for a reason. They’re for bringing soul mates together.”

“But that could take years of scouring multiple plains and worlds! What if we never find her?!”

Tick humbly cleared his throat and stepped up.

“If I may, Your Majesty. It is in the nature of the flower to bring true lovers together. That means that he attracted the rose’s thorn because he was already in love with his soul mate, but probably not acting on it.”

Eliot nodded. “Right. We need to find Alice, then.”

Think had been strained between everyone since the threesome. Sure, tension and anger lessened with taking down The Beast and the three offenders becoming kings and queen of Fillory.  Alice might have gone back to Brakebills saying she forgave Quentin…but that had been months ago. They had not talked since. Who knew if Alice Quinn could be brought back to wake Q. Eliot needed to know what kind of timeline they had.

“Will he be okay like this until we find his true love?”

Again, things did not bode well.

“I’m sorry, but King Quentin has until the stroke of midnight. If he isn’t kissed by his soul mate, he will die.”

It had been a long time since he accidentally used his magic, so when the pitcher and all of the water goblets broke simultaneously, everyone’s loud exclamations were understandable.

Everyone left the room. Margo promised to go off-world to find Alice, while Fen said she would get Quentin a change of clothes.

Right. His clothes were ruined.

Here Eliot was clean and dressed, while Q…

If it wasn’t for the smears of blood and torn cloth, Quentin could be sleeping normally.

The centaurs had done nothing to make him look a little more presentable, and Eliot just fucking wouldn’t have it.

Taking the water from the broken pitcher and a soft cloth, Eliot gently sponge bathed him. He paid attention to wipe every trace of dried blood from his skin and made sure to gently clean under his fingernails.

Fen came in the middle of his task, laying what he assumed to be Quentin’s clothes at the foot of the bed (he didn’t even look). She watched him as he combed his fingers through his adorable floppy hair, willing himself not to cry.

“Eliot…kiss him.”

That certainly stopped any tears from falling.

“What?”

Fen said it again.

“Eliot, I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. Many have whispered rumors of the two of you being lovers.”

“That’s preposterous. We’re best friends. Men can be close.”

“Yes, men certainly can. But…friends don’t look longingly after the other when they go to separate bedrooms at night.”

Damnit. Fen had caught him.

“I do not look longingly at him when he goes to bed.”

Fen leveled him a look.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” She said as she flipped her hand towards Quentin’s prone form.

“It’s just me here. What harm could it do to try?”

But that was the harm, wasn’t it? Having full proof that Quentin could never love Eliot like he…felt…for him. If he tried…if he kissed him…and it didn’t work?

It would break him.

He would try to act cool and never speak of it again, but he would live in constant heartache. Sure, lots of sex and booze might dull the pain, but watching Quentin love somebody else after he tried and was proven to not be the one? Yeah…not good.

Fen seemed to actually read his thoughts. (Not literally, of course. They don’t need more than one psychic in their friend group.)

“Don’t you want to do everything to save him?”

How dare she!

He felt himself tremble as he ran one lone fingertip down his sweet nose.

“Of course. I will burn this world to the ground if I have to.”

Shaking just a little more, his thumb smooth over Quentin’s slightly chapped lips. (When, not if, when he woke up, he was going to hound him with cups of water and fruit juice to make sure he stayed hydrated.)

“Then kiss him. Rule yourself out. I’ll even step outside and not peek. Promise!” She didn’t even wait for him to say anything. She just left the room with a quiet click of the door.

Now it was just the two of them.

Feeling awkward and really needing some cuddle comfort, Eliot slid under the covers and held Quentin close. He pet his arm in slow swoops and breathed in the scent of his hair. Like many times before, he hugged the smaller man close, enveloping him in his arms like he belonged there. Unlike most times, though, Q wasn’t burying his nose into his neck squeezing back hard enough to pop Eliot’s back. It was just…perfect. Quentin just knew how to hug him to make him feel safe and wanted.

What would he do if his favorite nerd didn’t wake up? How could he live in a world that didn’t have his favorite fanboy babbling in his ear?

“Come back to me, sweetheart. Just…let it be me, and I’ll try so hard to make you happy. I promise. I’ll give you soo many orgasms. So, so many. It will be obscene. We’ll be obscene if you just let me wake you up. Okay?”

Eliot steeled himself. Cupping the back of his neck, he placed an achingly tender kiss on his lips.

In stories, it always took a moment of bated breath to see if True Love’s Kiss worked. Often times in movies there was a dramatic moment of dread like it didn’t work before the music picked up and the princess slowly woke

Yeah…Disney did not prepare him for being pushed immediately on his back and being ravished by a previously comatose babbling king.

“Oh God, El! Yes, yes, all of that! Jesus Christ, you’re a good kisser.”

Reluctant as he was, Eliot pushed Quentin far enough above him to look in him the eyes.

“Wait. What the hell just happened?”

Quentin awkwardly shrugged, but his eyes twinkled with merriment and were hot with seduction.

“Uh, nutshell? I could hear everything that was said, and you just saved me by being my fucking one true love, seriously what they hell, fanfiction didn’t lie?! Oh, and you were totally misguided in trying to bring my ex-girlfriend here to kiss me. I kinda figured out what I felt for you was sooo not platonic when I crowned you, oh Mr. Spectacular. I kinda want to blow you now. To, umm, thank my hero and prove how much I really really like that he decided to kiss me?”

Eliot tilted his head and laughed, before pulling Q down into a rather filthy kiss.

“Oh Q, baby, I am so into that idea. However,” he said as he ran his thumbs across the apples of Quentin’s elated cheeks, “I almost lost you today. If you are willing, I feel the need to worship your body and make you scream my name.”

Quentin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn’t need words, though, he strongly nodded his head and attacked Eliot’s mouth again.

A few hours later Margo contacted Fen through a magic mirror spell.

“Shit, I can’t find Alice anywhere. Dean Fogg said she was doing some work-study at the Library.”

Fen blushed and tipped he mirror closer to Quentin’s door. While Margo couldn’t see anything, she certainly heard something.

Margo smiled. “Son of a clit! That sounds awfully like our Q moaning that Eliot’s cock is a magical gift?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Fen said timidly.

“How long has Q been awake?”

“Oh, I’d say a few hours.”

“And how long have they been at it?”

“Just a little less than that.”

“I don’t think I should be this happy that my best friends are boning….but…huh…True Love, huh?”

The Cupid’s Bow Roses were very carefully removed from the Fillorian Flower Forest, as well as any normal roses removed from the castle grounds.

On their fiftieth anniversary, Quentin gift Eliot with a bouquet of red tulips and Peruvian lilies.

[datarevived]

   -- Ⅳ : ᴢᴀᴠᴀʟᴀ

The feeling of the sun was warm today. Its' rays not too hot nor blistering; while being caressed by the gentle tones of the wind that brought in a cooling kiss upon ones' skin. The welcoming of a new day rests upon the horizon, its' luminescence peering through the vented windows of the building she called a home. Today was the day she'd stop sneaking around and hiding. Today was the day she'd make a decision.

The dull twilight of ones' skin twinkled in the soft sunlight of the room as she stretched herself awake to a new day. Body having sprawled against the mattress on the floor, as sheets seem to have tangled her lower legs in a midnight fret, causing a temporary distress solved by none other than viciously kicking until the cotton fell from her feet. A yawn -- or was it a groan? as she tumbles upon her side, lazy arm flung over her face as she debated greeting back the morning with tiresome gaze. 

In the back of her mind, she'd blame the mattress being on the floor, that she should have stacked more blankets to make do for the lack of comfort. But in reality, it was a tiresome mind, too loud to cut off and too persistent to sleep peacefully. Numerous questions and scenarios that had rot through her head during the night -- her purpose, and what she now stood for among the people. What this power in her chest stood for and who granted it -- for what reason, why her -- she'd fail to get the answers she wanted; and so she'd try to get the answers she could, today.

A familiar whirl chimes in the air -- mechanical tick hovering over lifeless body as it queued an audible ' hum '. A single blink of ones' optic as if to consider the following, before its' voice cracked the air in such sharpness against the silence.

" Do you plan to stay in bed all day? " the light asked.

A rhetorical answer -- the Awoken lets out another groan, the tips of her fingers flexing in consideration before rolling onto her stomach and shoving her face further into the pillow. Arms cross over her head, her backside seeming to rise and fall with each breath. Already, the stress of being unreasonable and responsibility was weighing on her social meter.

" It's not healthy, you know. Even as a Guardian, you still have to take care of yourself. "

And her companion-for-life was not helping.

" Ihm ghttin' hmp. "

" ...Ah, what? "

" Ihm' ge'ttin' upppp, " the translation whines, pinched between pillow and cheek as Selene turns her head just briefly enough to inhale clean air and understandable vocals. A pause in her movements before getting committed, the woman then putting her hands at the sides of her head and pushing upward in a mean cat stretch, a few bones in her shoulder popping the excess air between joints as she did so. It was a satisfying yet dreadful feeling -- bringing her knees beneath her core and sitting on her feet, raising arms to the ceiling as she tugged each shoulder once at the opposing side before pushing her chest outward in another stretch following ' pop '. 

A worn expression written across her face, certainly not the one of a full nights' rest but it would have to do. Dulled irises take point around the room, surveying the box-esq environment that had been gifted to her from Hawthorne before looking up upon her Ghost, its' shell hovering in plain sight. A half frown in return to its' original statement, that she'd rather much stay in the damp coolness of her room than go out another day avoiding Ikora's eye contact. 

" Are you always like this? "

" Like what? " the Ghost blinked.

" Like... this, " she flips a wrist, motioning to nothing in particular as she comments, " You know, around. Just kinda... floating about. Do you not sleep or do activities yourself? "

" I... do not, " the reply comes with a vague confusion, " No sleep, no hobbies, well -- there is reading and decoding, but, most would say its' more a chore than hobby, " it rattles, " But, we Ghost don't exactly require the physical stimulation that you life-forms do. Nor do we have a purpose outside our Guardian -- hence, my hobby, is making sure that you have hobbies. And that you're safe, and kept in line. "

" Mmm... sure, " the Guardians' head tilts, the information only half making its' way to being processed. That the Ghost was more an unmovable thorn in her foot, than that of a best friend for life. Interesting, to say the least. At this point, not knowing if she'd be fond of the fact or not.  

Matters to decide for later, she supposed.

With violet brows furrowing in thought, she then begins the day by prying herself from the floor. Pulling ones' self to feet, walking over to the nearby dresser, stocked with two sets of clothes as she changes from her sleep wear -- a tank with cotton shorts to a long-sleeve and fitting pants. The threads in the pocket of said pants prickled at the side as if only recently seamed. Nothing too spectacular, but it beat walking around the place bare. A cotton-braid pair of socks, with boots to match the fix, and she was out the door -- greeted by the rising sun on the horizon as the sounds of the busy Bazaar scurried awake.

" Are you going to talk to Ikora today? " the Ghost asks, keeping its' distance within the Awoken's head space. Its' optic ever so often looking back at its' Guardian, curious of what new actions she might take. Rarely did it seem to meet eye-to-eye, her attention always seemingly caught elsewhere.

" I'm not sure. "

An exaggerated way of saying, ' no ', she walks through the halls of the Tower before coming up to the opening of the balcony. The soft breeze causing her hair to flutter to the side, the sun once more striking a ray against her face, causing a set of star-aligned freckles to shimmer. The smells of the ramen shop just up the road begin to make way into her senses -- lunch prep ushering her to spend what few glimmer she carried.

In the corner of her eye, the Warlock is already at her post. Never a dime missed on the hourglass, it seemed. The mere thought of how a woman could remain so... poise, even in the front line of a war; it sends a chill down the Awoken's spine. A nervous swallow in the back of her throat as she considers her options -- her doubts. If such was true that Ikora was apart of the Vanguard, and that they ran things around here...

" ...I think, I want to talk to the other Vanguards. "

" The others? " her Ghost perks, a questionable expression lighting upon its' sensor. " Is that wise? "

" I'd have to meet them eventually, anyway, right? " Selene hums. " Plus... what if this whole place is just... some sort of recruitment shack. Like, they just... tell you what you want to hear. A bait and trap. "

" You don't trust them? "

" It's not that... " her voice cracks at an offended tempo, " It's just... this is still, just... I don't know, it's just so unreal to me. That this... this is what the middle of war looks like, that half these people have one life to live while the others are just, eating it up and doing whatever they want. That, who decides what goes on around here is driven by people who don't have any reason to fear, and that by any standard is just --  just -- "

" Okay, okay. Wrong term, my bad, " the Ghost interrupts, stopping the woman in her rant. " Ah, perhaps the use... ah,  paranoid? I do believe that is the better definition here. You're weary -- perfectly natural. Humans are very weary creatures, always the unexpected. But! If I might be able to help weigh your options a bit, that the people here might be more of help that say so, whatever it is that they are fighting beyond the wall. "

" Yeah, yeah -- I get it, yeah, " she sighs, waving a hand in surrender as the other is raised to her head -- pinching the higher bridge of her nose as she breathed. Nothing to get the blood boiling like good morning conspiracy theories. " I know... I know here is right. It just, feels right. But I... I want to know what the others say. I want to see if someone says anything different. Or if this place is just... one big... "

" Recruitment center? "

" ..Was going with family, but yeah. That would be the alternative, I guess.  "

The Awoken's mind settling on the latter, she then moves from the shadow of the halls and onward toward the courtyard. Vibrations throughout the pipes of the Tower, rattling in motion between docking ships and fired engines becoming more apparent the further she climbed up the various stairwells. The smells of burnt wire and steel work replace the scent of spices and broth -- the sound of tinkering tools echoing off the plated walls of the gunsmith's shop. To its' side, the sounds of soft tapping and page turning from the cryptarch -- the mans' gaze loitering over the passing Awoken for a moment before going back to his  work in hand.

What could be rightfully labeled as the roof of the Tower -- vibrant in both color and life. Multitudes of Guardians walking about the place, as conversations dotted the corners and other shops. A booming voice that stood among the masses laughed near the edge of the walls, a man built tall and full garb in armor head to toe with hands planted at his hips. Occupied with several other Guardians in full suits, their chat too mixed between the masses to really listen in on the details. 

Had his aura not been so inviting, Selene may have very well mistaken the man as the Vanguard she was here to see. But not too far away, stood another man who seemed quieter of the bunch -- matching a very fitting description of, ' big blue ', as his attention held tight to the city beneath the mass. 

" That is very much a leader pose if I've ever saw it, " her Ghost comments, swerving a round.

Her stomach is already twisting in an eager knot at the thought. The brief idea of hunting down the remaining Vanguard, first, then saving the king for last -- it's an option on the table but whether or not it'd place her anywhere different, is slim chance to none. To suck it up, get it over with -- she wanted answers, and who better than the leader of the pack to get them? It was a mental battle of persistence and cowardice, the Awoken's face twitching in discomfort before taking in a deep breath and flooring it towards the man with a staggered walk. Her Ghost, the small light which held plenty of commentary before, quickly popping out of existence as she approached, its' guidance silenced by the figurative means to observe and not heard.

Before words can leave her mouth, it was one step too late that the Titan turns his back to the city, his full attention held in approach as he meets her gaze eye to eye. As if sixth sense, or perhaps just the idle sound of footwork from behind -- the man replicates the traditional Awoken features, his skin touch of blue and eyes sharp as nails against night. An inquisitive look dosed upon his face, brow anchored upward in question as he stares back at the doe before him. 

A silence is given in return -- the woman held hostage by her own nerves as she stares back. The height difference only just now dawning on its' intimidation factor, the Titan's shadow engulfing her like an eclipse. His face lacked the warmth of the Warlock's smile, and his voice remained unspoken, immediately lacking Hawthorne's charm. What was she thinking, just only having one foot in the den and already going towards its' pack alpha? What did she expect?

" Eh--Excuse me... " the two words slipping through her mouth, it feels as if it takes the remainder of her breath along with it. " I was... l-looking... "

" --Looking? " his jaw opens, curiosity piqued in favor as one brow raises higher. " Something I might be able to assist, Guardian? "

Ah. A traditional habit they seemed to have -- the disregard to names. A previous conversation held with Hawthorne echoing in the back of her head, it's just easier that way. Pensive expression slipping through the cracks of constraint for only a second, the Awoken regroups her words in full before trying again. 

" I... I mean, I was looking... for the Van..guard. "

Pause is held for what felt like hours, the woman sheering away her gaze to something minuscule upon the ground as she waited. In return, the Titan's face softens momentarily, brow put at ease and corners of lips curl in interest. It isn't a smile, but a look of concern -- the nudge of ones' head as he speaks, his voice resonating in low cadence.

" We've not met, have we? " it's stated far less than a question, and more as matter of fact. " I would welcome you to the Tower, but it seems that someone else has beat me to it, and has already offered you space, " he motions, a hand raising in gesture towards her familiar attire. " I apologize that we've not been introduced earlier or I'd been happy to oblige... but I am Zavala, Commander of the Vanguard and seer to Guardian Military Operations. To whom I owe the pleasure? "

" I'm... I -- my name, is Selene. I'm... H-Hawthorne, actually, got me... settled in... " the Awoken fumbled, her eyes darting to anything else than to maintain eye contact with the other as her hands grabbed at the loose ends of her shirt. Her cheeks pinched in ache at the attempt to remain presentable -- a hallow hole in her chest nearly suffocating her by a whim. " I... don't mean to intrude... "

" Ease yourself, Selene. There are no enemies here, " Zavala  spoke, this time cracking a soften smile. " I am unsure what has you so... perturbed. But I assure you, you are safe here. A place of solid peace and mind, may there be no safer place out there. "

How unfortunate that his words only fulfilled the opposite of what they mean to encourage.

" S-Sorry, it's just... adjusting, " she manages to speak out, one hand reaching towards the nape of her neck. Another survey of the courtyard and its' distortion before taking a breath and meeting back eye contact with the Commander. " I've... talked to Ikora Rey, and, wanted to.. speak with the remaining Vanguard if it was possible... "

" Ikora? " he repeats, quirking another brow movement, " A woman often too wise for her own good, but unmatched in the laws of Warlocks. I can only hope she remained positive in mentioning the remainder of the Vanguard, " a chuckle. " I am... right to assume then, as a New Light, she's given you some insight on the situation we find ourselves currently? "

" S-Somewhat... she mentioned a war. Something about, Cabal and the Traveler, " her eyes move up to the figure in the sky temporarily, " And that... Guardians are, typically the front line. Especially uhm... new Lights... "

Another pause -- the Titan works to process all of his words correctly, perhaps more in detail than the Warlock let on. As he, too, takes a glance at the chained Traveler, his expression is something Selene's already witnessed before upon the face of Ikora when she spoke all the same of the deity. A pained look of failing hope -- something so far to grasp, yet barely brushing the fingertips of the chosen.

" ...We've lost many of our best. Ghaul having been a step ahead this whole time, and with it, leaving us to be hacked away by the masses. The Red War will not just be known for its' fight against the Red Legion, but the blood of our fallen brothers and sisters... we owe it to them to fight. To keep strong, and win against this threat that's taken away from us so many. " a hand moves in place as Zavala grips the railings of the Tower, the fabric of gloved mesh tightening against his figure. " This is not just a War for the Traveler, but for the very species of the human kind. Should we lose, risk extinction against the Cabal, and like a history untampered, we become like the rest we dare never meet. "

Put into a larger perspective, the decision begins to weigh twice as much upon her shoulders now. A grimace of features as she raises hands from shirt to arms, wrapping her own across her chest as she hugged at her own frame. A being so small, yet so full of power. The human race stood on the line, and the Guardians were the only ones who stood a chance to fight back. It was less of a heroic journey and more of an obligated fate, sewn between crimson string that fell indestructible to scissors of the Gods. 

Anyone to chose any differently -- to decide that enough was enough and that they'd live their life normally, while those condemned to a single life worked tirelessly to survive, were they looked at in poor taste? Or were they shunned all together, nothing but rumors upon dirt to those who remained so cowardly and/or selfish to abide by the strengths they were given.

She didn't ask for this.

No one did. 

But certainly, in her mind -- Gods, she didn't ask for this.

" Had it not been for the Traveler, I doubt even humanity would have survived past the Golden Age... " Zavala's words pick up, guiding the Awoken's attention back to his front, " But here we are. More alive than we've ever been. And I'll be damned I let the Cabal take it from us. "

His hand lessens around the railing in front of him, his gaze teetering back to the Guardian present. Selene's entire body seemed encased by uncertainty, so much so that the Commander could read it without question. He takes a breath before continuing, rephrasing the very same that had been spoken of from the Warlock days earlier.

" -- We do not ask that all Guardians fight. That is a choice for them to make their selves, and in doing so, your decision to make. We cannot ask you to risk life after life, fighting for something you do not believe in. But if I might be able to give one simple request, " his voice comes between a mix of empathy and solidarity -- " is that I ask you to think it over, Guardian. Not everyone can do the things that you can do... nor can they achieve the heights you can achieve. With this boon of the Traveler, it is my belief we owe it to those who cannot fight for themselves. That we are gifted in such a way that we are meant to do so much more. If you believe your strengths to be shone elsewhere, however... there is none to stop you. Nor will we see you as any less. "

It was a concern on its' own how contempt his face sat in the process of delivering a bold-face lie. His words thrown on her like a weighed cloak, sewn with half-needles as they gnawed into her skin. The repeating definition -- ' gift ' -- such things were given in joyous occasion, not bestowed upon those unnoticed. And yet, it seemed all the same here -- both between the Vanguard and other Guardians who seem to accept such responsibility so lightly.

Was she wrong, for being so callus?

Was she wrong, for needing time to decide?

" I... I'll think on it."

Right now, all she wanted to do was retreat back into her room. To dive back under the blankets, sink into the floor and melt away. What she wanted, answers to questions that plagued the back of her skull like a continuous tune, and yet what she got was a louder tempo. It was sickening -- she felt morally sick, her chest aching to explode at the lack of air and her arms wanting to bruise at the brute force her nails seem to dig against.

She didn't want to think.

She didn't want to be here.

She didn't want to be a Guardian.

She just wanted to be.

" It's all we can ask for, " the Commander nods, offering a plain smile. " Was there anything else I can do for you? "

" No, thank you. I'm... actually going to head out for lunch. Then... ah... "

" Rest easy, Guardian. Enjoy your meal, " he finishes the farewell for her. Whether its' to be polite and ease her burden, or be it for his own impatience -- she didn't know. He was but a temple, impossible to read in the ways she could others. Fatigue quickly zapping the rest of her energy as she turned and walked away, the mental capacity of all that was running through her head meeting the equivalent of informational override.

" That was... different, " her Ghost hums, sparking back to life as it weaved near her shoulder. " What do you think? "

. . .

" I don't want to talk about it right now. "

[acerosu]

Embrace: A Bellow Short

OK HOLD UP this is a bit different. Yeah it’s cute Bellow but, an idea got a bit out of control in the Discord server.  :D 

Allow me to explain:

1. We never see Blue’s feet in the show

2. Sneeple are real and they are gonna take over

So these two ideas hit each other at light speed and NOW BLUE IS A NAGA

@dragonademetal was AMAZING enough to draw my idea of Naga Blue (art under cut) so I wrote a short about it.

I figured she was made this way, a little mistake that White doesn’t want to admit. So she is forced to shape shift and hide. But in this, Blue builds up the courage to show Yellow, and both of them, still new Diamonds, enjoy each other’s company.

The hand ship circled around the landing platform before gently setting down. Its engines swept up a torrent of wind that caused the trees around the base to shake before falling still again. Tall, wispy leaves trailed down from the top, loosely wrapping around the long trunk molted with feather like fringes. Above the fronds, the moonlight graced both fruit and flower, each displaying a pale, green glow. The alien trees had been culled only to make room for gem buildings, leaving most right at the base of the many structures. Crystal domes and pools of flowing water reflected the soft light of the plants with leaves even allowed to rest against the glittering infrastructure of the empire.

 Yellow teleported off her ship. She recalled visiting this colony only once while in training with White Diamond.  With her ambitions purely militaristic, she had little use for a scholar’s retreat. Guards saluted her as she walked down the granite stares into a perfected manicured garden of bio-luminescent flowers. Researches bowed their heads in respect, proud to be graced by her prescience. The magnificent, powerful Yellow Diamond in her polished armor and stern face inspecting their scholarly pursuits; if only they knew two Diamonds resided in their colony tonight.

 The landing pads had been built far away from the main structures, giving Yellow a nice, long walk to think about the past few rotations. Fifteen colonies complete, all operating in flawless efficiency. White had even honored her with a smile before turning, sending her away to create even more. But success was not the main thread of the thoughts winding their way through Yellow’s mind as she made her way to the center of the settlement.

 She closed her eyes, exhaling as she recalled their previous conversation. It had been hard to focus amid that gentle voice rolling over her ears and the long, silky dress leading up to flowing hair and bare shoulders. Yellow cracked a smile. They had only managed small talk; far too busy as Diamonds for longer engagements. The way she laughed, so enchanting, even her eyes when Yellow had launched into a rant about military strategy. She had panicked and began explaining in detail a full battle won in years past. Blue simply listened, sitting at her side.

 Yellow would have hated so many organic plants infesting one of her colonies. Yet as she walked on, each alien form reminded her of Blue: gentle, beautiful, yet deadly with thorns and poison. Perhaps she’d allow some to live next time as a small token of victory. Yellow paused in one of the garden squares. Or as a gift for Blue. She loved talking about her court and creating the best gems for the job, each more elegant than the last. Yellow remembered taking notes after their conversation, blushing in embarrassment when caught. A perfectly formal relationship.

 Yellow frowned. Deep down, she feared that perhaps she was lacking self control in this matter; trivially pursuing something silly such as time spent talking with her fellow Diamond. Even Blue would reject requests to schedule their extraction chamber time together, and the last attempt Yellow gave a quick, impromptu visit to Blue’s quarters, thinking it would be a welcomed gesture, but she was turned away at the door. But today was different. They had planned, made time, picked a spot to meet alone and watch the solar projections as they searched for more planets to conquer. Yellow reached the base of a massive dome, the metallic veins of gemtech winding through glittering, crystal glass. There were no guards, only Blue’s Pearl who bowed as Yellow approached.

 “Greetings, my Radiance. My Diamond has been expecting you.”

 Yellow felt herself swallowing as if she needed the sensation in her throat. Perhaps it would keep her from saying something foolish. The door slid open, revealing a shadowed hallway. Trailing rays of moonlight lit up spores as the entire dome opened up into an extensively crafted microcosm of the planet’s flora. Yellow followed a winding path between glowing ferns. All around lay broad platforms of various sizes for seating, some of the larger ones hooked up with hologram projectors and screens. Minding the noise of her footsteps, Yellow couldn’t find a single soul other than her own. Now standing at the center, she gazed down into a shallow pool, watching small creatures swim in the gently lit waters.

 “Yellow, I’m glad you could make it.”

 Something shifted besides her along the ground. Yellow tensed, turning around. Gentle, glowing eyes met hers and she couldn’t see anything else.

 “Blue.” Yellow managed, unable to get any more words out.

 Trails of moonlight trickled down. Blue was leaning against one of the larger platform, resting leisurely with her head in a hand. She grinned.

 “No need to be so formal. We agreed this would be a more relaxed setting.”

 Yellow stood still, nodding. Her eyes followed where Blue’s long hair flowed over her bare shoulders. Only then did she realize the Diamond was only wearing a short garment that wrapped about her chest, loosely falling down her waist with her hair.

 “Come, sit with me.” Blue shifted over, making room besides her. “I set up a deep space program that will go over every system the probes have scanned.”

 Yellow walked over as if in a dream and daintily sat beside the other Diamond, her hands in her lap. “I’d enjoy that. I have yet to see the new reports, and it will be nice to be with you.” Yellow flinched, correcting herself. “I mean look them over with you.”

 She felt something move against her leg but was far too lost in Blue’s eyes. But the Diamond turned away.

 “Maybe this was a bad idea.” Blue frowned, crossing her arms underneath herself.

 “What do you mean?” Yellow leaned forward, repeating the last five minutes over and over to find what she had done wrong.

 “You’re all tense, still in your armor.” Blue stared at the platform, eyes distant. Her voice grew lower. “Only my Pearl has seen me like this. And White.”

 “Like what? You mean a Diamond, relaxing?” Yellow cracked a forced grin. “How terrible! We should call the guards.”

 Blue bit back laughter, shaking her head with a smile. She reached out and gave Yellow a playful shove. “Yellow, please! I’m trying to be serious.” A frown formed on an otherwise perfect face. “White said this would happen. She warned me not to be so open.”

 Nodding, Yellow felt a hand rest against her own and met Blue in the eyes.

 Blue sighed. “How many gems have seen you without your armor?”

 Feeling a blush spread over her face, Yellow turned her head. “Um. A few? I mean I like to keep it clean and use different sets for specific battles.” Her voice trailed off.

 “Well.” Blue squeezed Yellow’s hand. “I avoid letting any gem see me without a long dress.”

 Yellow’s mind was racing, weighing the proposition of them shifting off their clothing to how she would even manage to keep it together after seeing every inch of Blue’s breathtaking form. Her calculations were interrupted when Blue leaned forward, gently holding Yellow’s chin as she kissed her on the lips.

 It was only a brief contact, but Yellow was enchanted. She stared back, feeling her lips tremble. Memories flooded in of their first embrace and she had to take a moment to recover.

  “What, what was that for?” She blurted out, confused why Blue would grace her with physical contact after she had been failing this entire evening.

 Blue remained close, trailing her finger down Yellow’s chin to her golden gem before pulling away.

 “I just wanted one more, in case you decide to never see me again.”

 Entranced, Yellow let herself flow with Blue’s graceful touch, her mind far from anything colony related. When the hand left her chest, she shook her head as if coming out of a dream. Ignoring the shape moving out of the corner of her eye, she could not focus on anything other than the Diamond before her.

 “Why would I ever stop wanting to see you.” She allowed the words to fall out, their low tone matching every feeling burning in her mind.

 Blue gave a meager, but honest smile. “I’m a bit...” She tried to search for the right expression. “Different. From other gems.”

 “Of course.” Yellow tilted her head. “You are a Diamond.”

 Blue closed her eyes. From behind, Yellow felt something large push against her lower back, brining her closer against Blue. She turned, eyes growing wide from finally seeing what had been moving in the darkness during their conversation. A long, muscular form lay against the ground, its bulk coiled about the platform and surrounding Yellow. Scales of azure and cerulean glittered in the moonlight. Yellow followed the form up to the base of where they sat, at last realizing.

 The coils pulled back in apology. “I’m sorry to tell you like this.” Blue rested her head on her arms, staring off into the garden. “But you deserve to know.”

 Yellow reached down, trailing her fingers over the serpentine body. It reacted to her touch, flexing before settling back down.

 “Please inform my Pearl when you leave.” Blue mumbled, painfully aware at the golden eyes staring at her.

 She tensed as Yellow reached down, picking up a middle section and placing it on her lap. Gentle hands inspected a glimmering set of scales as they hung in the rays of moon light. Blue sat up, supporting herself on her arms. It was only now she saw the pure awe reflecting in Yellow’s eyes.

 “You’re so beautiful.”

 Blue blinked before matching her fellow Diamond’s grin. Her long body slithered along the ground, wrapping around Yellow before she lay down on her back along the platform, gazing up. The tip of her tail rose and gently poked Yellow on the nose. The resulting blush made her laugh.

 “Shall we watch the probe data now, General?”

 Yellow shook her head, allowing Blue to wrap her up more. “You know, I’m not really feeling logistics and data tonight.”

 Blue faked a gasp. “Maybe we will need to call the guards!” She felt a hand caress up her tail to her back and blushed herself. “Please help! Yellow doesn’t want to talk about colonizing!”

 The strict Diamond frowned. “Am I that bad?”

 Yellow found herself lifted by the long body, the muscles gently squeezing until she was lying besides Blue on the ground. The light in their eyes met. They lay in silence, soaking in the moment.

 “No. You’re wonderful.” Blue let out a happy exhale. “But we do need to go over this data.”

 Yellow leaned close, moving in for a kiss. “Later.” She whispered.

 Blue tightened her grip as they embraced, elated to have a willing volunteer in her coils.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 14

"Breathe, breathe me in, taste my words, let me blow your mind I will take you far, far away I'll make you feel alright You've gotta crave it and chase it Until you're close enough to taste it I can give you what you need I can give you what you need…"

"Make You Feel" – Alina Baraz & Galimatias

April 10th, 20—

I find myself writing more and more as my son grows older.

Erik. N'Jadaka. JaJa.

I remember the night he was conceived so vividly. The urge to make him was so powerful that the moment I released within my woman I knew he was on his way. It is interesting to note the difference between wanting to have a child and having one by accident. When I talk with the men I work with at the shop, most of them had children not by choice, but by surprise. It is what Califia calls being caught out there. If they were with a woman and she happened to get pregnant the response has been either going with the flow, asking for an abortion or leaving the relationship. Some of these men learn to love their children but they are seen as a burden and not a blessing.

I find this way of thinking abhorrent. Granted, when I impregnated Califia the first time, it was not planned, but I was happy when I found out for an all too brief moment before I learned of her operation. I do not understand the thinking of men who behave this way. The second time I left America to return to Wakanda, all I could think about was having a baby with Califia. Erik existed in my mind way before I even reunited with his mother physically. He was real to me even when he was just a thought.

I remember when I came home from Birnin Zana and Califia revealed to me that she was carrying him. She was so scared. Fearful that she would lose this child too. But I knew different. This time I was with her. We wanted this little one together. And Bast blessed us from on high. I know this to be true. The day he was born felt a bit like I was being reborn with him. My hands caught him. I held him first.

Our son.

My world has never been the same since he has come into my life with his mother. I can not imagine living a life without the two of them being in it. Califia has given me the most supreme gift with my son. She is the only woman who could give me a child like him. I ponder sometimes what type of child I would have made with Zinzi or some other woman from back home. Because his bloodline is so different, uniting Califia's hundreds of years of genetic mixing and separation from Africa with my Wakandan pedigree, Erik is a rare jewel. The best of the Old World Africans and the New World ones. My beautiful son.

I find him writing at his desk in his room quite often. I suspect it is because he sees me writing all the time in my journal. He likes to emulate Califia and I. I caught him in our bedroom opening my journal, his curiosity getting the better of him to cause him to violate my privacy. I told him about going through my things without permission. I had no fear of him reading anything that would give my secret identity away. My words are written in my native language. He is beginning to learn the Wakandan alphabet. He is fascinated by the fact that we have more letter/symbols than English. I have been creating a separate journal for him, recording things that will help him understand my culture for when I feel it is time for him to know the truth.

He is sprouting up like a strong tree. He is seven years old now. About to turn eight. He is in the sixth grade and excels in math and science. He loves history and social studies.

Califia and I had to have a serious discussion last night about allowing Erik to attend a local high school part-time for math and computer science, or have him do independent study at home. It feels like every year he excels more and we have to decide what to do with his education. Califia wants him to have the balance of children close to his own age. We are always having slumber parties and play dates with children from her studio. His regular school day finds him around older students, while his extracurricular activities are filled with age-matched peers from our social circles. I think he finds a good balance, but he tends to like older people. He loves sitting with Nana Jean a listening to her stories, especially when she has a card game with what Califia calls a hen party; a group of older women who drink, smoke, play spades and gossip.

Erik has taken up drumming and recently received his fourth capoeira belt. I am very proud of him.

His Uncle Bakari is coming to visit him for his birthday and they will no doubt drum together and play the berimbau for hours. Bakari has been a true brother to me and he has taken my son under his wing as if we were blood family. I am truly grateful for all these years of friendship with him. Bakari and Shavonne found out that they can not have children of their own now. Shavonne suffered from ovarian cancer two years ago and had her ovaries removed. It was a difficult conversation to have with my brother Bakari, but he and Shavonne are considering adoption, and they have focused a lot of love on Erik over the years. They are like his second parents.

Tonight Erik is having a sleepover with his buddy Walter. They've been hanging tough since they first met in pre-school. Walter's parents are always happy to have their son stay with us. I think it is because Erik is a positive influence on Walter. Maybe they think Erik's smarts will rub off on their child.

My son is an introvert. He can be gregarious and appear extroverted when he is with his friends, but he has the tendency to hang back and take in his surroundings before engaging with people. We used to think he was shy once he started elementary school, but the reality is quite different. He observes. Slowly warms up to all that is around him. And then he acts.

He is very particular about how he looks and dresses. Likes things in his room and around him organized and clean. Neat.

Califia is doing well despite the fact that we did have a recent pregnancy scare. Her middle school went through a strike and the stress and worry affected her health. For about two weeks we thought she was pregnant because she had missed a cycle. I admit I was ecstatic. She was actually excited herself until she saw a doctor and it was confirmed that she was not with child. A week later her cycle resumed and we told ourselves that it would have been a welcome surprise. We have been very careful with birth control, but it is my desire to have her pregnant again. And I want her to have our next child in Wakanda. I want to conceive our next little one in my home country. I want a daughter.

Califia predicted it, and I have been holding off on speaking on returning to Birnin Zana with our family, but Erik has begun to ask me about home. He asks why he does not get to meet my family. I have tried to avoid direct answers by planting the idea that my family is estranged and that it is difficult to communicate with them. He seems to accept this answer. It is no different than Califia's relationship with her mother and brothers. They do not often see each other because of distance. My son does not push the issue, but I can see in his eyes that he knows there is more to the story than I am telling him.

I am writing this in bed.

Califia is asleep next to me. Her hair is all over the place and she is in a deep slumber. While the boys were downstairs watching tv and playing video games while lying on the floor with sleeping bags, I was able to sneak a spanking session with her. We did not plan on it, but I walked in from saying goodnight to the boys and found her reading a book in our bed. She had on one of my old undershirts with a T-back design that she liked and just a pair of yellow bikini panties. She turned over to look at me and there was something about the way she stared at me that reminded me of the days when she would be in my bed at my old grad school housing. I reached over and slapped her ass and just marveled at how thick and healthy and gorgeous she looked. Almost eleven years of me knowing her have gone by, and she still gives me a thrill when I look at her.

I made her get on her hands and knees and pulled her panties part way down to her thighs. I spanked her while stroking my dick. She let me play with her pussy with my free hand. My fingers were inside of her when she climaxed, and I let her walls just coat my hand with her slickness. Her pussy is incredible, that is the only way I can describe it. She probably thought I would ride her doggy style, but I just wanted to cum on her face. It is something that I derive great pleasure in doing. The primitive need to mark her with my semen is just a thing I crave if I do not cum inside of her. It makes me feel like I own her. She is mine. No one else can have the honor of painting her face in that way. When she looks up at me, when her lips are parted, when she is waiting for me to release, I just cum so hard that it hurts.

Tonight I had a lot of pent up frustration from work at the shop. Nothing serious, but I knew I was going to need her tonight to calm me down. I groaned so loud when I came, and even more when I saw how much I shot all over her face. She will not move once I have ejaculated on her. She knows I like to stare at her with my semen all over her. I just love to mark her in that way. Some deep-seated urge to watch my fluid drip down her beautiful freckled face. She gives me the most intense look and then I want to do it again. I like to have her wet and slippery and soaking when I am done with her.

I so badly want to wake her up right now and push my dick back into her. The older we get, the more I need to fuck her. She makes comments sometimes to me about how my sex drive should be slowing down. Most men my age reach a certain plateau in their sex drive. What she doesn't know is that my body is not normal. I was created by a man who ingested the heart-shaped herb before he was ever married. When my brother and I were conceived our DNA was already different, superior to regular people. As long as I take care of myself, my body will not slow down like the average man. Thus, my sex drive will not be thwarted. I will probably fuck the way I do now until I am a very old man…

N'Jobu saw a flicker of light under the bedroom door. The angle of the light let him know that Erik was in his room.

N'Jobu closed his journal and left the bed to quietly investigate.

Erik's door was ajar, and he was at his desk writing. Califia had bought him a large dark brown journal that she tried to closely match to N'Jobu's leather-bound journal for him. His face was hunkered down and his right hand was scribbling furiously.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

Erik turned away from his journal and looked up at his father. The light from his desk lamp gave the back of his head a halo effect. His baby 'fro looked springy with soft curls.

"Baba…"

"Why are you up so late? Is Walter still downstairs?"

"He's asleep. I wanted to write some things down."

"What sort of things?" N'Jobu asked stepping closer to Erik's desk.

Erik's eyes flitted away from N'Jobu's and glanced down at his writing hand.

"You won't tell Mom, will you?"

"Depends on what you're writing about. Is it something serious?"

N'Jobu took a seat on Erik's bed watching his son's face with curiosity.

"I don't want Mom to know because it's embarrassing."

N'Jobu leaned forward and kept his hands on his knees in an open stance to help Erik relax.

"Go ahead and tell me, Son."

"I had an accident…while I was sleeping…not an accident really…um…my penis…"

N'Jobu cocked his head to the side.

"Your penis what?"

"It got hard, Baba."

N'Jobu let a small smile peek from his lips.

"We've talked about this before. That's natural. Your body is growing and changing and sometimes while you are asleep you will have an erection even at your age—"

"I wasn't really asleep, Baba. I was kind of touching myself."

"Oh."

Oh.

N'Jobu made sure to watch his tone. They hadn't really had the masturbation talk yet.

"Touching yourself is also natural and good. It lets you understand your body and what feels good to you. It is best to do that privately, JaJa."

N'Jobu was beginning to feel like he needed to wake Califia up for this part of the conversation.

"I have a situation at school," Erik said.

"Okay."

Erik looked behind N'Jobu.

"Is Mom asleep?"

"She is."

Erik's face looked fretful.

"JaJa, you can tell me about it."

Erik took a deep breath and spoke with his head down.

"There are these two girls at my school. One is in my P.E. class and the other is in the classroom next to mine. They both like me…."

Erik's eyes glanced up at N'Jobu.

"…and I like them both. Joy, the girl in my P.E. class said I had to decide who I liked best and let them know back at school on Monday. Her and the other girl Amelle are going to wait for me in front of the flag pole. I can't decide."

N'Jobu kept his face neutral, but he was dying of laughter inside. The most stressful occurrence thus far in his son's school life was liking two girls. Two girls who demanded that he make a choice.

"You like them both equally?"

"Yes. That's why…that's why I was touching myself. I was thinking of them and my thoughts made me get excited and then that accident happened—"

"Erik, having an erection is not an accident when you touch yourself. It's okay to do that. Thinking of girls will make that happen a lot. Especially two girls that you like."

"I wanted to see who I liked better when I thought of them while doing that. But it worked for them both."

N'Jobu tried not to let the laughter inside of himself spill out and make his son feel ashamed. The logic behind his masturbation was too precious.

"What makes you like them both equally?"

Erik's face scrunched up a bit.

"I like that they are older than me."

"How much older?"

"Joy is eleven and Amelle is twelve."

An eleven-year-old and a twelve-year-old interested in an eight-year-old. Holy Bast.

"What else do you like about them?"

"They are both funny. I like humor in a woman."

N'Jobu laughed out loud at that. Erik looked sheepish but a smile came across his face, his soft dimples popping out in his cheeks.

"Go on."

"They are both pretty. And smart. I like smart girls. Joy plays basketball with me and Amelle can play chess and beats me sometimes. I like how Joy laughs and Amelle is nice to people who don't have friends."

"Hmmm, I can see how this can be difficult for you. They gave you until Monday to decide?"

"Yes. I came up here to write about it. I want to figure this out, Baba. If I choose Joy, Amelle will feel hurt. If I choose Amelle, then Joy will be upset. If I don't choose any of them, then they both will be mad. Then I won't have a basketball partner or a chess partner anymore for recess. Plus Caleb Baxter has been trying to throw salt in my game by telling me that I just want to be a player. I don't even know what that is really. I asked cousin Junie and he said I should ask you because you would know."

"Junie said that?"

"Yes."

N'Jobu clasped his hands together.

"I think you should get some sleep and not worry too much about Joy and Amelle tonight. We can talk more about it this weekend after Walter is gone. Okay?"

Erik looked relieved to have someone share his burden. N'Jobu stood up.

"Don't stay up too long. You don't want to leave Walter by himself downstairs. If you have any more accidental thoughts of Joy or Amelle, have them in private, understand?"

"Yes, Baba."

N'Jobu leaned over and kissed Erik on his forehead. "Goodnight, Son. Sleep well."

He left his son's room and returned to his own closing the door. He crawled under the covers and was startled to hear Califia giggling on her side of the bed, wide awake.

"Did you hear us?" N'Jobu asked.

"I heard everything," she said covering her mouth.

"Great," he said.

"Don't worry. I know he doesn't want me to know, so I will feign ignorance. But you were so sweet with him. God, he seems so young to be having these feelings and desires. I just want him to be an innocent little boy forever."

"I need to find out what Junie has been telling him about me."

"I'm sure he's heard Junie and Bakari talking about you when you didn't know he was around. But listen, I fell out when he said he liked humor in a woman!"

Califia covered her mouth again to keep her laughter down.

"Well, to an eight-year-old, a girl three or four years older is a woman to him," N'Jobu said.

"Wait! And then he said that other boy was throwing salt in his game…ohmigod that is all Junie right there!"

N'Jobu laughed with her and they tried their best to keep their voices low.

"Who do you think he'll pick?" she asked.

"My money is on the basketball player. You know ball is life with him."

"Nah, my bet is the chess player. She shows kindness to people who are scorned, and Erik has a soft spot for underdogs."

"Care to place a wager?" he said.

"We are terrible parents, but I got five on Amelle."

It never fails to happen.

Like an embedded natural alarm system, Califia can tell when N'Jobu has left their bed when she is asleep. She was in the midst of a pleasant dream about guacamole and her Nana's chicken enchiladas when she felt something off and broke away from her dream state. Her eyes popped open and she saw the book she had been reading wedged under N'Jobu's pillow. He was gone and his journal was lying on the nightstand.

She sat still listening for a moment, thinking he was in the restroom, but then she heard his voice in Erik's room.

"I don't want Mom to know because it's embarrassing."

Fully alert, Califia sat up and cocked her ear toward the door. Partway through their conversation, she had to hold her pillow to her mouth so they wouldn't hear her chuckling.

When N'Jobu returned to bed, she couldn't help but reveal her awakened state. After making bets about who Erik would pick, she and N'Jobu laid in their bed together not saying a word. Each probably lost in their thoughts about Erik.

"How old were you when you realized you liked a girl?" she asked.

"I think maybe I was five. It was a girl from a prominent family in Niganda. She used to kiss me under the table when my father would visit her father. I haven't thought of her in years. She was really something. Just a year older than me, but she was kind of worldly for a six-year-old."

"You were kissing at five? These girls after Erik are almost junior high age. What if they pressure him into doing things he's not equipped to handle yet?"

"He was mature enough to talk to me about something so personal right away. I feel that he will talk to us if he feels pressure or discomfort from the situation. I say we let him figure this out on his own."

"What would an eleven or twelve-year-old see in an eight-year-old boy?"

"Have you met our son?" N'Jobu said giving a sharp laugh to his question.

"I know he's very good-looking, but when I was twelve, the last thing I was checking for was a little dude."

"He's mature. Talented. Brilliant. He came from my loins. What are you missing?"

Califia slapped N'Jobu's arm.

"The conceit—"

"What conceit? I'm stating a fact. That's my seed. Have you seen him work his dimples at your studio when he's flirting? Have you actually watched him flirt with girls and women? The boy is a master."

"But is that manipulation or genuine interest? Boys use girls all the time. I don't want him to be a dog."

"Am I a dog?"

"What?"

"He comes from me. I'm raising him to respect and cherish women. Do you think he'd turn into a dog when I'm teaching him how to be a non-toxic man? He comes from you too. You don't tolerate any bullshit from men, and he sees that. You have to remember, when he was smaller, he wanted to be more like you than me. Would a dog spring from that?"

"I'm not ready for all this," Califia said covering her face and groaning.

"It's not about us being ready, but us preparing him to be a young man and then a fully-grown man."

"I know…but still…that's my baby—"

"He'll always be your baby," he said rolling over to face her.

N'Jobu held her until he drifted off to sleep. She stayed awake listening to his breathing. She could hear Erik and Walter up again playing video games even though it was past midnight.

She thought about what N'Jobu said about Erik flirting at her studio.

She allowed Erik to take her hip-hop dance class and she treated him just like any other student. There was one class for all age groups and the little ones had to keep up if they were going to hang with Califia. She often used Erik to demonstrate complicated steps, and when the class worked on the moves together as a large group, her son would slink to the back to dance next to people he was interested in. Sometimes it was to compete with older dancers, and sometimes it was to be near cute girls. He would simply dance and girls would flock to be near him. If someone had trouble with a step, he would talk to them and show them the move slowly. Then he would compliment them on mastering it.

Once he had their attention, he would move away to the front again and be next to her to show off his prowess at keeping up with her. And she played right into it by dancing with him in front of the mirror and counting off steps for him to further demonstrate. Her little boy was a beast with his moves and she often let him go off in class with the music, gassing him up as he killed any routine she put together. It was over when he freestyled and she would often have to shut him down when he went off and laughed at her trying to cage his groove. Then those damn dimples would come out and the class would hoot and holler. That little negro really did have some game. No wonder Joy and Amelle were demanding his attention despite his young age.

N'Jobu's hand drifted across her chest and he squeezed one of her nipples through the t-shirt she wore and stretched his legs out. She snuggled against him, placing her head on his chest.

"Are they still playing downstairs?" he asked while clearing his throat.

"Yeah."

"I told him not to stay up too late. What time am I taking them to the movies tomorrow?"

"Eleven o'clock matinee."

"Can we change it to later?"

"No, Walter's mom is picking him up from the theater, so make sure you call her when the movie is almost over so she can be waiting in the parking lot."

"You teaching at the studio?"

"Yeah, then I'm going to sit in on my Dad's capoeira class. I think it's time I get this final belt."

His eyes opened. There was a smile on his face. She could see it from the moonlight bathing them from the skylight.

"So a trip to Brazil?"

"Yeah. I'm ready. Erik wants to try for his next cord too."

"I'll get tickets for us then."

"The baptisado is around the time of the city council election. This could be Negra Li's year finally. If she gets in office this time around, we could really do big things there and in Oakland with our non-profit."

N'Jobu kissed her cheek.

"I'm glad I get to be around brilliant Black women."

"I think this will be a great experience for Erik. We can help Negra Li campaign and he can spend time with Axiel and the other old heads."

Califia tilted her head up.

"Are they in the kitchen?"

She heard pots and pans moving around and water running in the kitchen sink.

"Time for them to call it a night," she said jumping out of the bed to put an end to midnight snacking.

N'Jobu watched Erik carefully button his shirt for school. His favorite forest green button up. He had put aloe vera gel in his hair to make his curls shine and he couldn't decide on which pair of sneakers to sport.

"The blue or white ones, Baba?"

"White," N'Jobu said.

"How do I look?"

"Smooth."

Erik grinned. He took a deep breath.

"Just go with your heart, Son. It'll all turn out okay."

"I hope so."

Erik took a good long look at himself in his bedroom mirror.

Today was the day.

The choosing of a girlfriend and the ending of a friendship if he chose wrong according to Erik.

Califia kept up the masquerade of not knowing what was going on, but she still cooked him his favorite breakfast of waffles and bacon and came up with the pretense of having to ride with N'Jobu when he dropped Erik off at school because of car issues.

When they all rode over to Erik's school, N'Jobu made sure to park near the flag pole so he and Califia could scope out the main event without Erik really seeing them. They both watched him hop out the backseat and put on his backpack. He waved to them both, hooked his fingers in the backpack straps and trudged his way toward the flag pole.

"I think that's them…it is! There are the girls!" Califia squealed.

Two girls both wearing designer brand t-shirts and jeans waited by the flag pole. One was a short dark brown-skinned cutie who was a bit pudgy, and the other was an equally adorable skinny whip of a thing with bow legs, and golden-brown skin. Both had dark big bushy hair, and both had their hands on their hips when Erik approached them.

"Here we go," N'Jobu said.

Califia reached out and held his hand as they peeped the drama.

"Should we really be watching this? What if it goes south? There's no way I can pretend to not know if he comes home with a broken heart…oh, my poor baby!" Califia said.

"Hold tight, girl," N'Jobu said, his face animated but his heart in his throat too along with Califia.

"I can't watch," she said covering her eyes.

"Shh," he said.

"What's happening?"

"Stop hiding your eyes and just watch."

They both gazed over at their son as they watched his head bob a bit as he was talking, his hands gesticulating a bit as he explained his reasoning for whomever he was choosing.

"God, he looks so calm and diplomatic," Califia said.

They watched both girls listen, their faces betraying nothing until suddenly they both stared at each other then looked at Erik together at the same time. The dark brown-skinned girl said a few words and she looked calm while saying it. She then turned to the golden brown-skinned girl and pointed at her.

"Uh oh, looks like he picked Miss Bow Legs," N'Jobu said.

The other girl said a few words and then her fingers were pointing back at the other girl.

"This may be a flag on the play, lil thick Mama may be the winner," Califia said.

Both girls finally stopped talking when Erik resumed his words. When he was done, he placed his hands back on his backpack straps.

Both girls looked at one another again and then—

"Wait. Wait! What just happened?" Califia squeaked in the passenger seat.

N'Jobu started laughing and slapped a hand on his steering wheel.

"Oh, my Gawd! No he didn't!" Califia said.

"His choice!" N'Jobu said.

They both watched the two girls kiss each side of Erik's cheeks and walk on either side of him onto the school campus. All together.

"That boy chose them both, didn't he?" Califia said leaning back in the passenger seat and folding her arms across her chest.

"We don't know for sure—"

"They were both smiling and kissing his cheeks at the same time. That is all you!"

"Me?!"

"That's some N'Jobu Dumisani Udaku maneuvering. That boy knows what a player is—"

"Player? How is it playing when they both agree to it?"

"Shut up!"

N'Jobu laughed and started up his car. Califia looked at him with amusement in her eyes.

"Hey, I'm not the only one who used to juggle several people at the same time. Polyamory is your thing. That's you he's taking after," N'Jobu said.

"Tuh."

"I guess our bet is moot now?"

"Clearly. Make sure you get the 411 when he comes home today."

"I'm going to mind my business and let him tell us what he wants us to know."

"You ain't right. How am I supposed to look at him at dinner?"

"Just like you normally do."

Califia shook her head.

"Califia, don't you mess this up being nosey."

"I won't."

"So, did anything exciting happen at school today?"

Califia felt N'Jobu's eyes on her face as she watched Erik tuck into his plate of rice and spicy plantains.

"No," Erik said reaching for a bowl of cauliflower.

She felt N'Jobu's foot nudge her ankle under the table.

"Erik, your mom wants to go up for her final cord at the next baptisado in Sao Paulo."

Erik's eyes got big. Califia spooned a bit of rice into her mouth. "For real, Mom?"

"Yep. You feel like training with me, maybe go for your next cord too?'

"Yeah!" he said, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Auntie Li is running for city council again, so we're going to help her out while we're there. That means we'll be gone for a while. Are you cool with that?"

"Yep!"

"Good. Baba will get the tickets for us early…but Erik, that means you'll miss computer camp this year."

"That's okay, I've been coding some stuff on my own and I can catch up on what I missed with Walter. His mom is finally letting him go this summer."

"That's good to hear," she said.

They ate more food and talked about mundane things, and Erik watched Califia interact with his father with great intent. When they were enjoying a slice of Nana's famous coconut cake, Erik seemed fidgety.

"What's wrong, JaJa?" Califia asked.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Califia glanced over at N'Jobu and his calm eyes telegraphed nothing out of the ordinary.

"Sure, go ahead, baby."

Erik's eyes drifted over to N'Jobu's and then he sat up a bit in his seat.

"What was it about Baba that made you like him so much?"

Califia felt her heart flutter. He was trying to share his new feelings with her in a round-about -way.

"Did you like him when you first met him?"

"She did not, Son—"

"Wait! When I first met you, I was in the middle of something important—"

"You barely wanted to give me the time of day—"

"I was starving—"

"So that's a no?" Erik asked.

Califia picked at her cake.

"I found your father interesting. And handsome…but he was already going after another girl when I met him."

"For real, Baba?"

Califia stuck a big bite of cake into her mouth and stared at N'Jobu. His face looked stricken, like he had betrayed his own son by being with another woman before her.

"Uh—" N'Jobu said.

"Uh, nothing. I was in the middle of talking to your father about his bracelet when this other girl walked right in front of me and took him away. Just like that!" Califia snapped her fingers. Erik's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Who could be better than my mother, Baba?"

"Say that, baby. Answer your son. Who could be better than moi?"

She could see already that N'Jobu wanted her to shut up. She could also see that glint in his eye that told her he was going to get her back later. Hopefully in bed.

"We were in University. Uncle Bakari wanted me to meet some new people so that's what I was doing. I met a lot of people there that night. Not just your mother."

"So what made you pick her?"

N'Jobu folded his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on the table while looking Califia dead in her face.

"She was fierce, JaJa. So fierce. When I looked at her, I couldn't see anyone else. That's the honest truth, Son. It wasn't just the way your mother looked. It was how she made me feel. Strong. Powerful. Happy. Special. Curious and open to new ideas…just so many things that made me feel alive and whole. No other woman has ever made me feel like that. When she was away from me, I was miserable…I didn't feel like myself without her. When she was by my side, I knew I could conquer the world. That's how I knew she was the one for me. That's how I knew. And I love her more every day each time I look at you, JaJa. I hope you can be so lucky one day."

Califia felt water prick her eyes, but she tried to hold back any tears. When she glanced back over at Erik, his bright eyes studied her face and she started to cry.

"Come here, girl," N'Jobu said reaching his arm out for her.

Califia moved out of her seat and sat on his lap. She buried her face in his neck and he stroked her back.

"Hey…hey…you know that's what you mean to me…" N'Jobu whispered in her ear.

Califia wiped her eyes and turned to face Erik. She cleared her throat and sat up on N'Jobu's lap so that she was leaning into him.

"One time I was visiting a museum with your father. We were looking at blankets and pictures from his country. We were still getting to know each other. Not exactly friends, but getting there. I asked him if he could take me to one place in his country, he said it was this river that was like a natural sauna. I was looking up at his face and I thought I could be with him forever. That was also the day he first kissed me—"

"Aye, you kissed me first!"

"Oh yeah, I did—"

"That's when all that started?" Erik asked.

"Yeah," Califia said staring at N'Jobu, ready to take his lips in hers right then and there.

Erik stood up and walked over to them. He wrapped his arms around Califia's waist and placed his head on her chest.

"I'm glad you found each other. I think you should apologize to Mom for letting that other woman interrupt your first meeting, Baba," Erik said.

"Apologize!" Califia demanded and N'Jobu kissed her instead.

Chapter 15 HERE.