#also I had worms and mud on my mind

[jacksprostate]

pls more fem fight club... from one of ur biggest fans

It's after fight club, when we've slunk back to our den and Tyler has stuffed me full of factory farmed chicken. I must be wearing my concussion on my face with how crinkled kind her eyes are. She takes me by the hand, we go to the garden to lie shirtless in the blood and guts and hair and shit and stare up at smog.

We lie close, like identical twins. Nursed in the same shitwater house, pummeled into superficial similarities. I know, my face is so blown out by bruising. Hers is no better; you could think we were a mirror. I could be some fucked up funhouse paper jam insomnia copy of Tyler. It would be a success.

"What do you really know of success?" Tyler scoffs, reading my mind.

Tyler says, "You don't know shit."

I don't disagree. I let my hand dig through the soil and mud until I've found a worm. Gently, I let its bristles catch on my skin. It wants to flee.

"You're told, we have it better than ever," Tyler says, and I know she's gearing up for a sermon. "You're told, we can work, and we can divorce, and have our own bank accounts. You and I both know you'll be fought every step of the way, but you can have those things now, isn't that a success?"

She takes the worm from me. Guides it into the unpleasant shape of a knot. Tyler pinches the ends of the worm lightly, pulls. These little cruelties are normally enacted on me, and I'm enraptured.

"If I stop, if I stop crushing and tearing this thing to death, is that a success?" Tyler drops it on my chest, in the valley between my tits. I see the knot is tight enough, some of the worm's organs must be crushed. Annelid internal bleeding.

"Is that good?" Tyler says.

Tyler says, "If you look to our glorious leaders, you will be told you should be overjoyed with getting a restroom into the Senate and the opportunity for the elite women who are part of our oppressive machine to wear pants. You will be told you should look at six women out of a hundred demons as a success. All of this, successes. Dripfed progress."

The common woman, she gets sexual harassment and a portion of the dollar. She gets marital rape exceptions finally struck off the books only in writing. She gets the second shift. She still gets rape and too late abortions and status barely beyond property of her husband and mother of his children.

The worm squirms.

Tyler says, "The House of Representatives still has nothing. They say, we have to be careful, we have to carefully mind the important history of the building as we act so kindly as to accomodate the silly womenfolk. Nevermind the steady light above his head and the subway he uses to get around."

Tyler reaches over, hand brushing my skin as she traces the twitching knot with a finger.

"I say, forget history. Holding onto history gets you little old cabins converted to rental cottages on a huge, private botanical garden with one large porched mansion in the middle. It gets you beloved buildings where even the most privileged women have to walk a block to take a piss, while men enjoy their modern heating and plumbing. It gets you the boot upon your neck. The knot in your spine."

She holds her hands out, spread. Occluded moonlight filters through. Her fingers are streaks of true night.

"If I were a worm," Tyler says, "I wouldn't wait until these hands die to consume them."

She takes the worm back, patiently, slowly unknots it as it writhes. I wonder if it knows those hands are the same ones that tortured it. I wonder if it cares.

"We can't wait for this. We should not expect the hands tying knots all through the world to truly ever undo them."

Forget history. Forget successes. Tyler wants to dismantle the world. Tyler wants to render things so equal that the sins of the past can be forgotten.

"Let's blow up the US Capitol," Tyler says, voice thick as syrup.

[kichiyosh1]

What gives you the right to ignore me?!

Modern au! Scaramouche x reader

w:// this takes place somewhere from grade school to high school, and valentines day will be mentioned later on

When he tells himself that you aren't worth his time, but then starts hoping you don't think the same for him.

(it gets good the more you read it, I swear)

Scara being transferred seats for the 5th time this month because he keeps on picking on his former seat mates because he thinks of them as 'lowly worms'. Oh well, at least he should have some new form of entertainment now that he's seated next to— whatever your name was.

Not even a proper greeting was spoken when all he did was tap your shoulder. "and your name?", he has no need for such pleasantries anyways.

Sure he'd make fun of you later then go back to minding his own business the second after, but he at least would want to put a name to this person which he'd be stuck with for the whole school year(if he were lucky enough not to transfer seats the next few days later)

It took you a while to reply to him, eyes stuck scanning the pages of your book, then you gave him a small glance, and reply before going back to reading. "It's y/n", he's offended by how short of an answer you gave in return, but it's not like he asked for anything else other than your name, but the way you said it with such disinterest makes a shiver run down his back.

"Well? You should feel honoured that i have graced you with my presence. Don't get used to it though, don't think so highly of yourself just beca-","Didn't miss Kusanali transfer you here because you were misbehaving like a total brat? You act all high and mighty yourself when you can't even remember the name of your classmate that you've been in the same class with for awhile now." No ones ever stood up to him like that before, heck, you've completely gotten him off his high horse and all he can do is burn his stare at the side of your face, because despite all that, you STILL aren't looking in his direction.

He's not gonna waste anymore words with you. You're not worth his time anyways. Just another worm in the mud for him to stomp on, but for now he'll allow you to wiggle around in the comforts of soft soil, until it hardens and you have no choice but to dry up and die. Quite the poet he was, if not for his foul mouth and scheming mind.

He made it his personal mission to just ignore you. The only times where he's begrudgingly acknowledging you exist is when he's paired up with you by the teacher or when he REALLY has no choice but to confront you about something.

This would have came off as satisfying to him, the natural reaction of a person in his presence would be them wanting him to notice them, but you did not give an f, any f, at f'ing all.

He would hate to admit it, but he sometimes felt comfort in the silence you two shared, as there are also times where you would acknowledge he exists, like when he'd grumble about his broken pencil tip and you'd pass him a sharpener, or when he's about to fall asleep in class and you'd gently nudge him awake, but what irritates him is that you do all these little things while not even looking at him.

He didn't understand why he was getting frustrated. This is what he wanted, right? He got it, but it didn't feel as fulfilling as he first thought it would. Was he admitting that he wasn't quite fond of this mutual silent treatment? That maybe he'd prefer if you talked to him more, interacted with him more, hung out with him more?

"Like I'd admit to that!" it was after he suddenly blurted that out while standing and slamming his hands down on the table, that he realized the whole class was looking at him, giving him weird looks. A few laughs and chuckles were surfing throughout the room, but his attention wasn't on any of those pesks annoying voices. Once again, you weren't looking at him, but the small giggle that left your mouth had him staring at you in awe. "You look pretty when you smile", those words were lodged in his throat, and he'd rather choke then have those words spoken out for you to hear.

You're so annoying! would it kill for you to at least look at him when laughing at his misery? At this point he might as well admit he'll accept anything you're willing to give him, but it's not enough. He was never one to settle for less, so why now was he acting so shy. Might as well throw what he's thinking straight at your face, while twisting his words just a tiny bit, to save what little pride he had left.

____

"What gives you the right to ignore me, huh?!" "What law would I be breaking for 'minding my own business'?" You're insufferable, you really are, you must be so out of sync with your brain to have forgotten it was valentines day today, and he's so mad he doesn't know how he's supposed to give you the box he's been hiding behind his back, so in the end he never does. He hadn't realized he was storming out of the empty classroom (save for you two there) when he bumped into his homeroom teacher. She had no time to react when Scara was already shoving the box into her arms. "Eat it, give it to someone, throw it away, I don't care! To think I had my mom help me make those for that- that idiot! A waste of time!" he was already far off, still shouting his complaints, leaving a confused Kusanali standing in the hallway.

He wanted to cry, a part of him never wanted to see you again, but he already had the bare minimum of what he could get from you, what more if he wasn't there to catch a glimpse of your rare moments? Oh, and would you look at that, he's already at school earlier than what he's used to but he's doing this all for the sake of not having to awkwardly have to sit down next to you.

The classroom was already half filled when he heard the scraping of the chair next to him. He had his head in his arms, only allowing a small gap for him to take a peek at what you were doing. To no one's surprise, you were already taking out that same book, the one you were reading on your guys' first ever interaction. It was like he was back to square one, an ongoing routine of silence if not then it would be his one sided bickering. Too bad he wasn't feeling it today, but unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it was you who made the first move to speak.

"Hey"

Scared the sleep right out of him, his back straightened and staring into your— eyes? you? him? eye contact? when? eh? one look was all he took and suddenly he forgot how to blink. Presented to him at the palm of your hands was the same box he so carelessly gave to his homeroom teacher. "How did that end up in your hands?","Mrs. Kusanali gave it to me right before I left the school, but from what it says here, you are sender."

He took ahold of the box, and pasted right at its side is a small card that had 'To: y/n♥︎' and 'From: Scaramouche♡' written on it, alongside a very cringy love quote that almost made him want to gag.

"That wench!" He didn't even realize that card was on the side of the box, and from the hand writing alone he could already tell it was from Ei. His face scrunched up further once noticing the heart at the end of your names, even just that was enough for scara to look away out of embarrassment. "N-Not that I care if you liked them or not, but just know that I am NOT responsible for whatever THAT is."

The silence after that was just eating up at him. How did it go from denying you exist to having him here. He was holding onto the box too tight with trembling hands, it slowly crumpling just a tad bit his grip softening when your hands took place on both sides of his. "I think it's cute."

You had such a neutral expression on your face, but unlike before, your voice flowed smoother than any melody he's ever heard. "And thank you. Sorry I didn't get you anything, to make up for it, I'm letting you decide where we'll work for our next project."

____

He still couldn't believe you were actually talking to him and holding eye contact as well, he sometimes forgets you're human and not some unreachable deity.

He really couldn't take his eyes off you, and wanting to answer to a past question of yours, yes, ignoring him was most certainly a crime, if he wasn't able to spend these moments with you, it would be criminal.

"Hey, don't go ignoring me at my own house will you? or do you plan to just leave me there to finish the whole project without you?"

" I doubt you can, with you stealing glances my way for the majority of the time you'll be spending. What? think I didn't notice? peripheral vision exists you know."

"Like there's anything worth looking at you for."

"..."

"You did not just start—"

[overtaken-stream]

This whole part is just King going, "My favorite color is dark, like my soul." also, this gif is so hot omfg I can't with him, I have a smut idea for him, and if I do, somehow wrap my head around it, I'll post it here and on ao3.

Yandere!King The Wildfire x reader Pt2.

It was a hasty decision, done in reaction he is unsure what to call, hardy he could handle himself when in your vicinity, it was a feeling of something intruding someplace it had no business being.

Similar to you in this situation.

His room was devoid of human touch, obviously because he barely used it, postponing his sleep until the flames on his back would collapse in on themselves, and he felt the consequences every time. It complemented his suit and the general aura he tries to surround himself with when dealing with Kaidou's henchmen, dark and containing no distractions. One specially made bed with dark covers, straightened against the wooden walls, on the other side was a wardrobe that seemed giant to a normal-sized human; unlike others, it was decorated and carefully carved, leaves, waves, ships, eyes, and unseen mysterious symbols were embedded into the burnt wood.

``It's an interesting texture.`` He remembers thinking, though he can no longer put his finger on how he got it in the first place.

And yet, in the grim surroundings, there was a light his flames could never compare to; warmth, no matter how hard he tries, will never radiate from him. It was similar to that dark house where he first laid his eyes upon you. You who have not changed nor moved on from that moment, you who trembles and shakes, cry and call out for help, insult him, and corner yourself in a place where you feel defended.

He has been in your shoes before, a long time ago, he can't be sure.

Perhaps the understanding is the cause of his heavy heart, taken away from home in such a way... He can feel his throat close up as your hunched figure shines in his view. Grime stuck itself onto your limbs, knees, and hands decorated with splinters of all sizes, hair matted and filthy from ash and smoke, and its smell follows him in his showers as he allows himself to let free of his suit. It's so recognizable.

And if his heart clenched everytime he saw you in this horrible position, nobody had to know. Not even him, it was a can of worms King won't dare to touch.

He remembers bits of information about his race, long lost to time and humanity, the whispers that came in the form of dreams speckled across his mind and reflections; the delusions and validity are mixed within his remembrances, the real and fake are smelting into and out of each other, his past is forgotten even by him, the lineage of mighty warriors feared by all is smeared across the walls with mud and blood mixed with heartfelt feelings.

In a memory long before the laboratory, his tiny ears picked up information, a word that defines and tames a feeling of awe he is experiencing—a SoulMate.

Lost words from his Ma that he was too young to understand finally make sense, a connection of minds, unconditional love, and a total understanding of each other. It's about being oneself and knowing others, a SoulMate is following and understanding One's thoughts, but They're right there with the One, side by side. Completing the soul and tying the Lunarian instincts of animals into a pretty bowtie. A Soul and a Mate.

Love at first sight doesn't exist because even if King has not experienced it before, he is not fooled by others' thinking, Love dependent on sight is lust.

But he didn't see you first, did he? He felt you.

Kaidou is not obligated to put up with a civilian within his chambers, under his roof, where the empire buzzes with insignificant life, but it has been hours after they departed from your home island, now a kingdom of ash and debris, a few hours he has spent watching you with motionless crimson eyes.

The monster gets up from the throne, the squicking of leather alerting you of his movement, forcing you to turn towards him; the last time he made any move was when he sat down on the chair you can't quite make out in the dim moonlighting, your quivers, and sniffles fade out as he gets further away from you, his broad back is turned.

It's time he explained himself.

The cold yet quiet air is disturbed when he lights up the flames on his back, coloring this room in warm shades.

Your swollen eyes and snot-filled nose could only gasp for air as he slowly turned his face back to you.

``I'll come back.`` he slams the heavy door shut.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, the disgusting dirt of your suffering sticks onto your skin, seeps through the crack, and marks the invisible scars into your psyche.

You wished, for the first time, that a promise would be broken.

``tsk...`` the angry and tear-stained eyes turn away from the door.

Left unchecked, fear turns into irritation, irritation into anger.

Balled fists shake, out of fear, out of anger.

[snarlesofthesewers]

a taste of poison

snarles x reader part 1 - if there's enough demand maybe ill make a part 2 lol idk i hate writing so it would probably take just as long as this one

a while after landing on this strange planet, finding yourself in the dark and haunting forest known as Subcon a spirit known as snatcher steals your soul and forces you to do his bidding unfortunately for you while working to complete one of snatcher's tasks you end up far deeper in the forest then you should have been and end up in someone else's hunting grounds

after searching for nearly two hours you find yourself running into a small clearing leaves rustling and twigs snapping underfoot as you ran towards the rare flower snatcher had asked you to gather for a certain potion he needed to make what kind of potion? you had no idea but what you did know is that snatcher would probably kill you if you came back empty handed you should have been paying better attention to your surroundings while running you weren't exactly paying attention to anything other then the flower leading to you tripping over a fallen tree and planting your face directly in the cold and wet soil of the forest which definitely woke you up but when you realized just how much noise you had made on the way here you could feel nothing but dread something probably heard you no.. something definitely heard you you quickly wipe the mud from your face and come to your knees scanning the tree line and tuning in your hearing as you slowly get up but you see and hear... nothing nothing but the sound of wind howling between the cracks of broken trees the coast is clear and you are alone so you begin to stand and reproach the flower pulling it from the ground with the roots intact and stashing it somewhere safe for the journey back to snatcher's house but just as you pick it up the smell of something absolutely awful fills your nose its hard to stop yourself from puking and you probably would have if you weren't already so used to the constant smell of death that lays thick in Subcon's air... but this wasn't the usual smell of old decaying bodies this smelled far more ripe where the hell was that smell even coming from? "right behind you that's where~" a small crack and snap can be heard in the treetops above with the faint sound of hissing that transitioned into a shrill and wet sounding cackle that followed soon after you run but you didn't get far before you are promptly pinned to the ground by something far larger then yourself with its claws digging into your shoulders causing fresh blood to trickle down the side of your back and onto the cold wet ground and it was at this very moment that you realized YOU BLEW IT YOU TOTALLY SCREWED YOURSELF!~ you feel the smooth and slimy skin of whatever creature had you pressed against the ground began to coil itself around you like a snake ready to suffocate its prey your mind and body had already started to go numb but before you could pass out you were quickly snapped out of it by a voice... and maybe also the claws still stuck in your shoulders like knives but mostly just the voice

"finally.. fresh meat its been days with not a single soul... I was starting to worry that people had finally gotten smart and started to avoid this wrenched forest~"

"...now then.. how about we get started my lost little mouse~ it would be a real shame if I let fresh meat like you go to waste"

you struggle and struggle and struggle some more attempting to worm your way out of its firm grasp but its no use but if you were going to die you at least wanted to get a good look at whatever was about to kill you so you continued to struggle until you could get a good look at its face even if that meant completely exhausting yourself you catch a glimpse of its soulless yellow eyes flickering

"oh how cute the prey thinks it can escape~? you keep making this easier for me I almost feel bad... maybe the hunger is finally starting to get to me or maybe its just that scent.... wait hold on that scent" they lean in close to your face and just stare at you for what felt like an eternity before uncoiling you and towering above your sore body "is... this some kind of cruel joke?" they hissed in frustration before grabbing you by the leg and pulling you close to their face "no this cant be the case... did his previous contractor kick the bucket already? its only been a week there's no way he's dead already" they drool at the thought of eating the remains of snatchers previous victim even if there's no guarantee he was even dead...yet "well well well~ ...might you be snatcher's newest pet? oh ...don't worry about trying to speak.. I have other ways of finding out~" "my little mouse"

[omentranslates]

Owari no Seraph chapter 133 english fan translation

GOOD MORNING AND HAPPY NEW CHAPTER DAY LOVE AND PEACE

It's my understanding that the official english release won't be for a little over another week, but the Japanese chapter came out today so I did what I do, anyone who'd like to read please enjoy!! Please be mindful of spoilers in the meantime and thanks as always!!!

Owari no Seraph chapter 133: Maiden in Love

Shinoa under the cloudless sky...

Shinoa: The sky goes so high...

Shinoa: Ants really are such pointless insects under a sky this tall...just like I am.

Mitsuba: Aha, I finally found you!! Shinoa!

Mitsuba: What are you doing over here!? Everyone's been looking for you!

Shinoa: What do any of you hope to accomplish in searching out an insect like me?

Mitsuba: An inse...what are you talking about??

Shinoa: Nevermind, could you forget I said anything?

Mitsuba: OH COME ON!

Mistuba: Yeah we'd still love you if you were a worm, Shinoa, we're your squad! But we're not getting anywhere with our leader acting like one.

Shinoa: Ah, that's true. Then Micchan, how would you like to lead?

Mitsuba: Keep talking stupid and I'm gonna punch you.

Shinoa: You're already punching me??

Mitsuba: Yeah well it'll be your face next time.

Shinoa: That's fine.

Mitsuba: Seriously, knock it off! You're not the only one hurting here, Yoichi and Kimidzuki are also...and even I'm-!!

Shinoa: That's right, you like like Yuusan don't you, as a man. Just like I do.

Mitsuba: ACK

Shinoa: We're 16 now, it comes with being bodily of age. Although I'm...not sure I can win against such a dire rival as you.

Mitsuba: WH- HEY!! No touching!!

Shinoa: ...ouch.

Mitsuba: Shinoa what the hell is going on with you? Ever since Yuu took off you've been...

Shinoa: Nothing like that～

Shinoa: This is something I've been thinking about more recently since I was born. About what the point is in being alive.

Mitsuba: Huh?

Shinoa: Hey, Micchan

Mitsuba: Yeah?

Shinoa: Have you always had a reason to live?

Mitsuba: ...our world is like THIS. We're alive but it's still a struggle to...No. For me...

Flashback Aoi: What are you alive for?

Mitsuba: I guess that's not true. I came after my brilliant sister, I was the botched follow-up from the start.

Mitsuba: I want my family to look at me properly. Or...no, it's fine if they won't. But to be acknowledged by SOMEONE, I want it so bad.

Shinoa: You're just like me, huh.

Shinoa: But where I was lucky, is as an animal with no aptitude for experimentation, there was practically no one around me to want to be seen by. I couldn't even comprehend the thought. So I've had it real easy until now.

Mitsuba: But your older sister, she tried to save you...

Shinoa: I just recently found that out.

Mitsuba: But that's at least SOMEONE who loves you, compared to how I-...

Shinoa: I love you Micchan. I love you so much.

Mitsuba: ...huh?

Shinoa: If it was your life on the line, I'd give mine to save you in a heartbeat.

Mitsuba: Wh- for real? I-, wait

Shinoa: I really truthfully do see you as my family, Micchan.

Mitsuba: HOLD ON A SEC! WHY ARE WE GETTING MUSHY ALL OF A SUDDEN!?

Shinoa: But Micchan, that isn't something to live for. My life is worth so little to me, I wouldn't suffer even if you never acknowledged it.*

Mitsuba: So you're saying that only Yuu's acknowledgement will do.**

Shinoa: It hurts so bad, right here.

Shinoa: I was thinking you may feel the same?

Mitsuba: N-NO COMMENT!!

Shinoa: Are you sure?

Mitsuba: NO COMMENT.

Shinoa: Ahh...

Shinoa: This world surely must be hell, for just being alive to weigh my chest down with pain like this. And on top of it all, we've been abandoned. A rejected women's club of two, isn't it just the worst. Isn't it about time we just die?

Mitsuba: Getting dumped and then immediately dying sounds like an even worse life.

Shinoa: Shall we make a last ditch effort, then? A struggle between just us over a man trapped way over his head in mud?***

Mitsuba: If we do that, it'll be your first reason to live?

Shinoa: What do you say?

Mitsuba: I'm in if you are! I'm winning though so.

Shinoa: Hey!

Shinoa: By the time my sister was 16, she was already an unspeakable monster.

Mitsuba: Oh yeah, they say she's the hero who saved the world by pioneering the way we use demons.

Shinoa: Not at all, that girl caused nothing but problems. Ichinose Guren, Hiiragi Shinya, Hiiragi Kureto, she had them all wrapped completely around her finger. But, she did it all in the name of love.****

Shinoa: 16 is the age of destroying the world for the man you love.

Mitsuba: Didn't Mahiru say she protected you because you had some talent that surpassed even her?

Shinoa: I guess.

Mitsuba: So shouldn't you be like, less weak?

Shinoa: Perhaps that's just my lack of motivation or something to work towards?

Mitsuba: Who cares

Shinoa: Hahaha

Mitsuba: So, do you have any ideas?

Shinoa: Well...

Mitsuba: Can we save Yuu?

Shinoa: Yes yes, all in good time, our rivalry can wait until after we've gotten him back.

Mitsuba: So we can?

Shinoa: Well, a story that favors the maiden in love is always a good read, isn't it? Micchan, gather the Shinoa squ-

Yoichi: No need, we're already here! Sorry.

Kimidzuki: Oh and uh...don't worry about-I mean, we didn't hear anything. I mean. We weren't listening.

Mitsuba: WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT UNLESS YOU WERE LISTENING!!??

Kimidzuki: HEY, YOU KNEW FROM THE START WE WERE AROUND HERE WE WERE LOOKING FOR HER TOGETHER!!

Mitsuba: YEAH AND I WAS BEING SO EMBARRASSING JUST NOW

Kimidzuki: WELL WHY'D YOU SAY IT THEN

Mitsuba: Well I-!!

Mitsuba: It's the first time Shinoa has ever opened up to me like that so....

Shinoa: Of course we'll hear both of your love confessions now too.

Yoichi: Uh...

Kimidzuki: Fuck's sake.

Shinoa: So then, everyone, I've been thinking. Since it's our turn and we'd better give it our all, the Shinoa squad will be officially resuming activities. And we must stand as no less than equals to my sister and to the lieutenant and to the vampires.

Shinoa: We're going to jump out in front of everyone by any means necessary. We'll live in line with our reasons for life!!

Yoichi: Woooo *clapping*

Kimidzuki: You mean resurrecting our families, so we're going to go get Yuu back?

Shinoa: Yes, let's do exactly that!

Yoichi(?): Does that conflict with the lieutenant's goal?

Shinoa: About that...I've really begun to get the feeling that we can't trust my sister or the lieutenant. They aren't me after all. But although I've just recently come into wanting to do something with my life after having happened to fall in love, I do hope you'll all trust me?

Kimidzuki: Kinda seems like you should be the one saying that, but it doesn't matter anyways while we don't have the power to compete with the lieutenant and all them....

Shinoa: Gekkouin, Kiseki-Ou. Obey me.

Gekkouin and Kiseki-Ou: *screaming*

Mitsuba: WH-

Yoichi: Huh, Gekkouin!?

Kimidzuki: Kiseki-Ou!!?

Shinoa: According to my sister, humans created me to handle demons. It would seem that in terms of animals to experiment on, I am the strongest. Ability comes with motivation, after all.

Shinoa: So then

Shinoa: Lowering the walls around your heart

Shinoa: Oh my, what a state you've found yourself in. Weren't we all just in the palm of your hand?

Shikama: ...shit, not now.

Shinoa: What's that? Have I come at a bad time?

Shikama: Summon Wall

Shinoa: WALL, DOWN.

Shinoa: We still have a faint connection, you and I. Shii-chan. I specially chose the time it felt like you wanted to see me the least.

Shikama: What does a human want with me?

Shinoa: You made the demon army, yes? And you're the one who made me like this, aren't you? It was you who resigned my sister and my friends and I to this fate?

Shikama: O, Darkness

Shinoa: Consume!!

Shinoa: AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Shikama: This fucking....

Humanity's strongest counterattack....!!

T/N:

*lit trans. "My life is so light within me" I wasn't sure how to get this across in english because in English it sounds as sad as it is, but in JP the meaning is still like that but the tone is lighter, like she just doesn't really care. Spending her life is easy to her.

**lit trans. "So you're saying you want to be acknowledged by Yuu" She technically only implies the "only" part, although I stand by it being closer to what I wrote with all context considered.

***Man over his head in mud. I decided to lean into a secondary definition of this word because we know they're talking about Yuu and he's Doomed By The Narrative but there's a few different ways it could be said including translating it to swamp man. Or swamp of men. I can't find any consistent established phrase related to it and if you google it you will get actual photos of guys covered in mud so. I'm going to put this here to explain better since I'm not even really sure how I want to interpret this as a reader sksdfkj

****I want to note that the word used for love here and also the word for love that Shinoa uses for most of the chapter is 恋, rather than 愛. 恋 has an explicitly romantic meaning and also a connotation of selfishness in some cases. However, she uses 愛, selfless and nonspecific love, in her line to Mitsuba.

[ygodmyy20]

Hey anyone want to read my *looks at doc name* Pukes Words On A Page? From a teru pov of him having a panic attack?

SURE

Also I dunno if what I write is body horror or just regular old descriptions but I'll tag just in case. Also I used to never share these but...I am kinda proud of these crazy writings I do. So. Yeah.

If panic attacks are triggering maybe don't read.

Anxiety is eating him alive.

It crawls through his skin like worms through soil, burrowing its way upwards and settling in his chest. He feels sick, his fingers rattling and ribs tightening like a rope around his bones. His insides are rippling with hums and wheezes and he can’t breathe.

Teru doesn’t know what to do with anxiety.

It’s like his body is being eaten from the inside out, rusted talons scraping out his ribs for meat. Dull as they dig into his liver and the bottom of his spine. Blood rushes away from extremities and his head lightens and maybe he will pass out that would be nice but there is nowhere to go. He can’t seem to shake it. He needs to get things done. But his brain is rampaging with thoughts and ideas and he can’t seem to sit still, legs shaking, fingers clawed.

He is distracted but aware, fully present but his mind is lost in space. Nothing is working, like dragging his feet through the mud. Pouring buckets of sand into his eyes and ears and the thoughts are so loud and screaming at him. Crystals pierce the sides of his tear ducts. He wants to call for help, but he wants to talk to no one. He desires a hug, but also wants to go out and find a random ex-CLAW and punch them so hard they fly into the sky.

Panic is settling in.

He is so exhausted.

His powers barely register under his skin.

He never used to feel anxiety when the world was moving so fast and he had no time to even think about being anxious. But now, it is like an extra layer on top of his skin weighing him down. Was it better when I ran off of adrenaline? He thinks briefly before quickly shaking his head.

No no, that was worse.

He knows that was worse.

It was worse

….right?

But at least it made sense before.

You get chased, you run. You get attacked, you fight back.

Not like whatever convoluted hellscape this is where he feels like he just ran a marathon but is sitting at his desk, homework laid out in front of him, hand fisted in blonde hair that comes loose from his sad excuse for a ponytail. He pulls at his hair, noting as some locks come out. He tosses them to the side, the blonde strands floating to the floor.

He is behind in every class, and no matter what he does, he can’t seem to catch up. He can’t seem to figure out why.

He keeps using his powers to get to school faster because he is sleeping in too much.

He can’t sleep because he can't seem to keep his eyes closed.

His powers are drained and he knows it but he just just barely treading through waves.

All he wants to do go over to the Kageyama’s and play video games with them and Shou, and eat too much and be too full and stay up so late that he starts to imagine that the walls are moving into shapes of figures he can’t describe. Shadows and molten black and figures that reach for him but then he feels the flutter or purples and greens and reds from his friends and everything settles back into the walls from where it came.

If he could just take in a full breath maybe he'll be okay.

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The kingdom of Terramoist PARTIES: Regan and Jonas SUMMARY: The worms need some assistance on matters of love. Jonas and Regan help sort out their wormance. CONTENT: Worm spice

The rain from last night would bring the worms, and the worms would bring Siobhan’s face flashing in Regan’s eyes, burning into her occipital lobe. The examination room… Regan had been so cowed during that exchange, so pliant, after the trial had bled her out. Despite that, if there was anything she regretted saying to Siobhan, it was not ‘I hate you’. It was ‘I will think of you next time I see a worm’.

As it turned out, it was not only the next worm, but the one after that, and the next, and the hundreds that followed. Each had Siobhan’s presence oozing from their clitellae; their seductive squirming was like her long legs; the lines between segments her scars; the way they pulsed, like Siobhan’s desperation pushing itself to the surface. 

But Regan needed out of the cabin, because its jaws snapped around her whenever Jade wasn’t there. Outside was better, if only slightly. So there probably would be worms thriving. Was Siobhan thriving, too? Regan planted herself on the front steps, legs far apart, elbows on her knees, and tried not to stare down at the mud.

“Good morrow, my lady!” 

Regan jumped, then blinked at the small voice that seemed to come from below. Fine. She would look. Hadn’t she learned that the inevitable was the inevitable? There was a worm by her foot, an impressive specimen, pink and thick. But there was no way. Worms could not talk. And even if they were intelligent enough to (they were not), the worm had no mouth to speak of, and it wasn’t like it could see her. But the tiny animal looked up as if it could, its body wiggling with each word like they were being funneled through its anatomy. The voice came again. 

“How fare thee? I am Princess Soggerella from the Kingdom of Terramoist, and I am hither to bid for thy help. Prince Worming is to wed a compostor at dusk.”

It definitely talked. Unless there was a speaker in the mud. Unless it was her blood rushing behind her ears. Unless it was a strange echo from afar. Unless it was her phone. Unless a lot of things, which were becoming harder to believe than whatever twisted reality she was living in.

The worm tried again. “Well met?”

Recently, Regan had noticed the human simulations had begun to stare up at her through the screen. Between that and this incident, she really had to start wondering if her brain was supplying its own stimuli after being starved of what it wan– was accustomed to: the morgue, the death, the autopsies, the way all of it was able to touch peoples’ hearts, both literally and figuratively. Also, why was the worm even speaking like it was from the Middle Ages? Why a princess? Were worms a monarchy? Was Jade going to think she lost her fecking mind? Did she? Fearg an chinniúint, she would respond; Regan was going to speak to a worm.

The stubs on Regan’s back tried to flick, as they often did in the face of the unknown. “Uh… huh. What are you, really? Not fae. I would be able to tell. Not a worm. This is impossible.” Regan pressed her lips together. “Should be impossible.” Yet she found her face closer to the worm. At least its talking distracted her from Siobhan. And everything else, for that matter, including that those stubs had grown a little. “Why are you talking, um, to me?” The worm should have gone to Hamstring. Why didn’t it? Hamstring was so good with worms. Everyone knew it. Cliodhna knew it. Regan flushed with shame at the way her fingers had curled tightly around the wooden step. She released it.

“I am but small,” The worm curled up in demonstration, “and thou are nigh.” 

Nigh? Close, that meant close. Well, that wasn’t exactly flattering. She was a worm hero out of convenience. Her ego could have used moistening right now, too. “What is it that you’d like me to do? I am not going to kill any worms. I am done with worm battles.”

Hearing that, the worm drained from a healthy pink to an ashen grey, like Regan’s own worms had been. “No, not slay! They hath found the worm bride, the compostor, yet I don’t think the bride is a worm! This bride is too long, vertically. Thou must interrupt the ceremony. Kingdom Terramoist shall fall if thou dost not. As shall I.” The worm drooped. “Prince Worming… the prince is long and grey, lithe. Some do believe the prince to be ill, yet Worming is my heartworm.”

Regan rubbed at her eyes. No. This was all still happening in front of her. And Prince Worming sounded like one of her worms. How was that… she supposed this was close to the field the worms did battle at, but could that really be true? And if Worming was one of hers, was Soggerella one of Siobhan’s? Regan did not like that. She stifled her prejudices, but barely.

The worm went on. “I learned of love on a blissful February day. Mine mother read mine poetry. And I love the Worm Prince. The Prince shall shower me with love and his slime packet if only I were granted a chance.”

Ó, lobhadh mór, definitely Siobhan’s worms.

But Regan had another chance to do right by her worms now. If stopping the marriage was for the good of the kingdom, then she should do it. But what about Prince Worming? Did he return Soggerella’s affection? Regan had raised her worms on vastly different literature, painting a harsh picture of the moors, detailing strife; Siobhan softened hers with notions of romance. As always, for better or worse (and it was usually worse), Regan decided she needed to see for herself.

“Fine. You can show me. But I need to be back here before the sun sets. Can you even see the sun?”

“Prithee, follow meeeeee.” The worm squiggled into the woods at a much slower pace than even the average geriatric post-hip replacement patient. Reluctant, Regan glanced back over at the cabin – new memories with Jade were coating the old, but the paint thinned sometimes, and she could still see what was underneath: iron blades and spattered animals, secrets and isolation. Remains of her own making deep in the soil.

Regan followed the worm.

—

Yesterday had been a normal day with normal happenings until just past 12 in the afternoon when a small voice called up to Jonas from the soil. From there things went terribly, horribly wrong. Of all the things in Wicked’s Rest to have happened from giant cicadas to a shrimp cult to someone breaking into his house to spread cream cheese on his shoes, this was by far one of the strangest. The surprisingly deep voice came from a worm. Not just any worm, but Prince Worming himself. The small crown atop his body solidified his position as did the ball of worms wriggling underneath him keeping his gray skinny body from touching the ground. 

“This one.” The curt sentence was punctuated with a nod of what Jonas assumed was the worm’s head. 

“I um… excuse me?” Jonas wasn’t sure what was stranger, that a worm just talked or the fact he could hear them so clearly. He didn’t get much time to ponder it though as the worms started creeping up his legs, slimy mucus coating the skin as they inched higher. His eyes widened as he did his best to sweep them off. However there were simply too many of them. It wasn’t long before Jonas found himself sliding slowly across the ground on a bed of sickly colored worms, passers-bies ignoring his calls for help. He had been dragged deep into the forest and left to sit tied to a tree until the sun came up the next day, kept under strict worm guard. 

As the sun began to filter between the tree tops Jonas was finally approached by what seemed to be a worm general, “Greetings wormling! I see you are up and attem with the sun! Very good! The prince likes his early mornings, he truly chose a most fitting bride!” The worm spoke as if he was an older gentleman, in fact Jonas could swear he saw a tiny gray mustache on the worm’s face. “It won’t be long now, you must be quite the happy wormlet. A bit big for my taste but it’s the prince you’re marrying, not me.” The worm’s hearty chuckle rang out by Jonas’ ankles. 

Jonas sat quiet as the shock seemed to set in. He was here to marry a worm?! What’s worse is that they didn’t seem to realize he was a human at all. Did he really look so wormly? “I um am flattered? But I must get home. I do not think I am quite um right for the prince.” He mumbled softly. He had never had to turn down a worm before, let alone a royal one. Then again he supposed he was more letting the general pass on the message in his stead.

“Nonsense! This is great honor to be wed to the prince! You must just be having, oh now what do the children call it ah yes the wedding wiggles. They will pass once you are down the aisle.” The worm patted Jonas’ foot with the end of its body before slithering away. 

“Wait! I do not wish to go down the aisle! I am not a worm!” Jonas’ calls were promptly ignored by the worms around him who were all going about their daily duties in the tiny camp. He was beginning to think that he really ought to stop lending Blue out to Jamie for jobs, then again maybe she was warning his friend about the fact Jonas was in danger. He prayed silently Blue was getting help somehow or that Lil had noticed he hadn’t come home the night before.  He didn’t want to be a worm bride, he didn’t think he could fall in love with a worm let alone make said worm happy even if he did. They ate different things and obviously had different lifestyles, but more importantly Jonas could never really be in support of a monarchy. Sure it was fun to imagine a prince sweeping him off his feet and having a tragic romance where the prince couldn’t love him because of their different status in life but throwing it all away to be by his side, but that was more of a fantasy to lull him to sleep at night rather than an actual desire. The prince in those dreams had never been a worm either. 

Perhaps Jonas had to simply accept his new worm life and worm husband until he could find a good chance to slip away. Would his friends notice him missing? Surely Lil would. What would she think of a worm brother in law? Would they even let him meet her after the wedding? Where would Blue be kept? Who would take care of his bakery? Was there anyone out there looking for him right now? The questions without answers seemed never ending. 

—

Every few paces, Regan waited for Soggerella to catch up with her, then she questioned her sanity. She was following a talking worm into the woods – not just any worm, one of Siobhan’s. To stop a wedding. She had never dared do that before, even when she thought a relationship was destined for death row. How many weddings had she been to? Some… she couldn’t remember. Names and venues hid in the grooves of her brain, but she knew they were there. And she remembered a few unconventional wedding gifts she had given. Who wouldn’t appreciate a bulk order of formalin? How else were they planning on preserving soft-bodied organisms? (They liked the money more.) Greg... the name came. Greg and Allison. That was who. She hadn’t interrupted then, even though she knew Greg was not a particularly good cardiologist. What did she know about hearts, though?

This was taking too long; she couldn’t be missing when Jade returned. Eventually, Regan just picked the worm up and had it direct her. But Soggerella did not know left from right, so Regan was relying on the subtle gesturing of a worm tail (posterior? Not quite a tail). It had been about an hour, and she regretted not bringing water before setting out. The worm was starting to look a little dried out, too. But she was assured they were almost there. Finally, Soggerella told Regan to stop.

Regan was facing a thick tree. “Here? Are you sure?” She asked the worm, with an uncertain tone. 

There was no uncertainty in the worm’s voice. “Welcome to the vast kingdom of Terramoist! Thou art a guest of the princess. Strive to blend in. Draw not attention to thyself. Knowest thou my decree?” Stop the wedding. Regan did. “Now I must return to mine own quarters. This pink, fleshy skin of mine doth need moistened before I present myself before Prince Worming and prove that I am a suitable bride.”

Regan set the worm on the ground and watched her squiggle away to moisturize. Meanwhile, Regan took in her surroundings. There wasn’t anything special about this place, as far as she could tell. Except… what was that around the tree? And when the birds quieted, she heard something like breathing. Human-sized breaths. She did not know how worms breathed, but this was from something large-bodied in comparison. She placed her hands against the tree and slowly peered around.

At the human there.

One she knew.

“Jonas… Ballard?” Right, he was deaf. Regan circled in front of him so he could read her lips. It was certainly him. No need to repeat the question. She had many others, though. For example, why was he tied to a tree with what was only a string? And why were there strange leaf and rock tent-like structures at his feet? And then, finally, why had the worm brought her to Jonas?

She shook her head and snapped the string with a quick grab at it. Because Jonas hadn’t, for some reason. “Hello. It is me. Why didn’t you do that? Does Lilian know you’re here?” She asked him. Perhaps this was self-imposed exile for his bagel crimes. That made sense.

A grey worm emerged from under one of the leaf tents and shouted. “HOLD IT!” Regan knew, personally, that something could be tiny and loud at the same time. But this was a worm. Her eyes ticked to Jonas for some kind of explanation. More shouting came from the direction of the pencil-thin, ill-looking worm. Oh. Her worm. Who didn’t recognize her. “What do you think you’re doing, soldier? This is Prince Worming’s bride.”

Soggerella wiggled out from under a leaf, newly moist, and wept slime at the mention of the other bride.

The commanding worm continued. “You can’t just barge in and take the bride for yourself. We have the red carpet ready.” The worm pointed its tail to, what Regan now realized, was a rectangular mass of reddish worms forming a long mat. It ended in front of a flat rock decorated with intricately patterned dirt.

“Compostor!” Soggerella wept more slime. “Worming was to marry me! We were to continue the tradition of union between our families! We were to rule Terramoist! This worm hath no royal pedigree. The worm is a commoner!” If it was love, real love, how could Regan judge the way Soggerella’s voice became a soggy warble? She and Siobhan both saw the way their worms had coupled on Worm Day.

The army worm seemed sympathetic, to an extent (don’t ask Regan how she intuited that) but he served the prince. “You are wrong, Princess. Go back to Dampmoss. Find a strapping young worm, and rule there. Prince Worming chose his bride, and he knows what he wants. A worm who eats common dirt does not grow this long. This bride is fit and strong, girthy with the Jade sauce.” 

Regan choked. These were her worms, alright, if she possessed any previous doubt. She looked down at the grey worm (did it have a mustache?) with a raised brow that was longer and thicker than it was. “You think this, uh, this–” she gestured to Jonas, “– is a worm bride? Oh… kay. Huh. Where is this Prince Worming, anyway? I need to speak with him. I am someone important, you see. An, uh, envoy. From Cadaverville.” 

Regan reviewed the facts. She was here to stop Prince Worming from marrying… Jonas, who the worms thought was a tall worm. Because Princess Soggerella was in love with Worming. If she helped Worming see how great Soggerella is, the two of them could bring an era of prosperity to Terramoist. And she would redeem herself, her failure to take care of her worms, to treat them kindly, to see them to victory against Siobhan’s (it was mostly about the victory). Well, maybe more importantly she couldn’t let Jonas marry a worm. Probably. Did he want to? Regan gave him a sideways look. “Are you in love with this worm? Not this hairy one. Worming.” She got a stern look from the grey commander. “I mean, Prince Worming.” It was an utterly foolish question, but she didn’t feel like a fool. In fact, Regan stood tall, a human among worms (and Jonas). She should have been thinking she was insane. Or wondering why she was bothering with this when none of it was real. But those thoughts from earlier made way for a different one: for the first time since she’d come back, she felt useful.

—

Jonas was tapping his feet as he sat there awaiting his wormy fate, when suddenly a familiar face popped around the corner of the tree. “Dr. Kavanagh!” His face lit up at the sight of the terrifying woman. “Oh um I did not want to get swarmed again.” Once time was enough. He didn’t particularly like the feeling of worms crawling all over his skin, he also didn’t know how long it took worms to make string. It seemed a little rude to just break something that may have taken months to fashion without hands. He may have already resigned himself to his fate before the woman appeared from the forest to save him.

“I do not believe my sister uh knows I am here.” If she did he was sure Lil would have broken in by now and caused havoc upon the worms or died from laughing he wasn’t sure which. Perhaps it would be both. She at least wouldn’t let him marry the worm that he was certain of. She knew what kind of man Jonas liked and Prince Worming was as far from his normal preferences as one could get, not that he would ever insult Prince Worming, they simply were not compatible. Apparently there was someone else who also thought the same. A princess? Jonas hadn’t seen her before while here. She looked much healthier than the gray worms that had kidnapped him. She was very pink and more girthy than the general and Prince Worming were. Apparently she was also in love with the prince, how lovely! Though apparently she had already been rejected by the prince, something Jonas could relate to. He felt bad for his comrade in unrequited love. He was about to squat to talk to her as Regan seemed to be handling the situation just fine for now when a certain question made him pause and look at the doctor in disbelief. 

“Oh no! I do not. I um am not into worms.” 

The general seemed to take particular offense to that, “Not into worms? What kind of worm is not into worms?! The audacity!” He huffed and grumbled in his shock at such a notion, his little mustache trembling. He seemed to want to say more when a commanding voice sounded from the other side of the camp. 

“General, what is all this commotion before my wedding?” Prince Worming himself was being carried across the clearing, worms making sure to get out of his way as his caravan passed. He was now adorned with a small white cape, gold patterns of worms wrapped around branches and leaves were stitched into it. His crown was golden in color as well and looked cleaner than it had yesterday. He stood tall despite his sickly body, what Jonas supposed was his chest was puffed out as he took in the people who had come in uninvited. The balls of worms under him paused at Regan’s feet. “What is the meaning of this, you tall one speak. Explain to me what is so important that you feel the need to interrupt me on my most special of days.”

— 

Jonas certainly recognized her. Regan was (mostly) done questioning reality when someone from Wicked’s Rest showed up in an unexpected place. That was simply something that people here did. The ham child in her bedroom, Wynne and Elias in Ireland, Jade in that custom, two-person casket with her under the moonlight (that last one might have been a dream). So why couldn’t Jonas be tied to a tree with a string, surrounded by worms? Sure. “Then you should tell your sister about… whatever this is,” she gestured toward the army worm, who, yes, definitely had a mustache. That was its face, right? She was an expert on vertebrate anatomy, not worms (another disappointment of her grandmother’s). At the worm's booming fury, Regan almost regretted asking Jonas about his worm fetish. Almost regretted it. 

Motion near the ground caught her eye. What the scread was that? No, she probably should stop asking that, too. Worms. The answer was always worms. The roiling ball of worms rolled over, and Regan could see now that there was one worm at the very top, a princely crown adorning what she assumed to be its head, and a decorated, white cape the length of his body trailing behind him. She had never known worms to be so industrious. And… was this one of her worms? By context clues, she knew he had to be Prince Worming. 

“What is wrong with commotion?” Regan narrowed her eyes at the regal worm. There were more important things than being offended. Like Jonas. “I mean, um, W– Prince Worming. Hello. It is kind of you to call me tall.” Jade might like these worms. “Pardon my intrusion. I am here because I, um, the reason you’re sickly and grey is–”

“Enough!” The prince declared. Several worms that had squiggled out of the way of the worm ball trembled in the dirt. “You call me sickly? I am strong. I had trifling rations of Jade sauce and a harsh upbringing. I learned of war and the foggy Irish moors when I was only a clod of dirt. My mother screamed while the girthy worms knew lullabies and poetry. I am a soldier and a prince, and you come here to disrespect me, my bride, and all of Terramoist! Speak for yourself! Why do you come here? Why do you attempt to harm the kingdom I will inherit?”

No confession then. Regan winced. How could she not? It sounded like a traumatic life, and she was the one responsible for dragging Worming through the dirt (or… a similar metaphor that worms would not actually enjoy). It seemed smarter to not admit that. The word harm had her head sinking into her collarbone. Maybe she should just let the worms have Jonas. He could leave on his own. And then Regan wouldn’t be once again responsible for causing these worms pain. She had harmed so many animals, but the worms survived. Her thoughts turned to her grandmother struggling in the tar pit, still standing, still alive. Would it have been better if Siobhan’s worms had killed Regan’s worms instead of loving them? This was absurd. She shook herself free of Cliodhna – not for the first time, and not for the last. All she could do was try and find the best outcome for both parties. Regan could do this. She had done similar countless times! Like… uh… well, actually she couldn’t recall a single compromise she had made. Forget it.

She didn’t think she’d be able to convince them that Jonas wasn’t a worm, but maybe she could help them see (could they see?) what a low-quality worm he was. And what a fine specimen Soggerella was, in contrast. Soggerella, who was sinking into the dirt that had been made moist by her tears and slime.

“Look how moist she is,” Regan said, gesturing toward Soggerella as if presenting her. “This is, uh, a fine worm. Boneless, which is unfortunate, but it cannot be helped. Meanwhile, this other, um, worm…” She gestured toward Jonas now, “has dry skin. There is no sheen of slime. You see?” Regan grappled for Jonas’s arm and waved it up in the air; the sun did not gleam off his skin. “Not nearly as permeable as you would like.” She wasn’t sure if she needed to convince Prince Worming or the army worm more, so she made sure both of them could see how pitiable of a worm Jonas was (was not?). “You have such a beautiful kingdom. There is a dead bird or squirrel somewhere underneath us. The tree here is dying. Decomposition is in the air.” She had no idea where the kingdom actually was – was it just this patch of soil they were on? “Don’t you think you’re deserving of an equally beautiful bride? Hm?”

“I’m beautiful!” Soggerella continued to weep both slime and desperation. “I shall be your bride! Pick me! Not this… this serpent!” 

Prince Worming stiffened from atop his worm ball. The army worm’s mustache twitched. If worms could look contemplative, this was probably, well, what it looked like, which was not much. Was Jonas reading their body language? She eyed him, trying to figure it out, but he looked almost offended and a little hurt. “What?” She mouthed to him.

—

Perhaps Jonas was a little too sensitive, he wasn’t sure why Regan putting him down was punching holes in his self esteem. It was the smartest thing to do after all, these worms seemed to think he was one despite everything. Still he never thought of his skin as dry, maybe in comparison to a worm but Jonas had always made sure he kept his skin soft. But she was right he was ugly according to worm standards, really something that shouldn’t bother him but the lack of sleep was catching up and his emotions were a little more worn than they would be with a full night’s rest. He shook his head at Regan not really wanting to admit that her comments had an effect on him, it would be embarrassing and really he embarrassed himself in front of Regan enough. Still perhaps there was another approach than just simply insulting him in front of their wormy captors. 

Instead he turned his attention to Soggerella, crouching in front of the pink slimy worm. She truly was the most moist one here but her desperation to be loved by someone who had no feelings for her was hitting a little too close to home for him to just sit back and ignore it. “Um your majesty, I…” He fidgeted a little, trying to focus on the right words that would comfort the tiny creature. He wasn’t sure if the techniques he used on human ghosts would have the same effect on a worm but there was no harm in trying was there? “Your feelings for the prince are truly something beautiful, love always is, but that does not mean you should try and force the Prince into something he does not want. It is not fair to you or to him. Chasing someone who will not look at you is far more painful than letting go.” 

Like Jonas was one to talk with how he held onto Zane still like a dumb lovesick puppy. Maybe these words were also for him as much as it was for the girthy girl in front of him. “You deserve to be loved by someone who will love you back.” He turned to the prince, careful not to step on any of the worms in his entourage, “You also deserve the same my lord, I am incapable of loving you and trying to force me to do so is simply not right. Maybe you do not wish to join with Soggerella despite her many beautiful worm qualities, but I am sure there is another worm out there for you who will love you just as you love them.” 

Another voice popped up from behind them, a grey lady just as slim and wet as Prince Worming pulled herself from the woods and spoke. “The tall one is right princess, I Georgeous your faithful servant have been in love with you this whole time! You do not need a prince who cannot see your worth for I am here! I have always been here! I came here to stop you from stopping the prince from marrying!” The tiny creature sounded out of breath as she shouted her affections across the admittedly small distance between them. Her long flowing locks of auburn hair seemed to be blowing in a wind that wasn’t present, “Please come home with me and forget this man!” 

Jonas blinked at the addition of another character, standing up to take in the now love square that was forming among him and three worms. Though he was truthfully hoping he was more or less out of it by now having properly turned down the prince, much to the shock of the trembling general on the ground. Jonas was sure if he shook any harder the tiny mustache on his face would surely fall off.  

—

As Jonas was giving some of the worms a pep talk (possible he just wanted to be closer to the worms, because he was attracted to them), Regan tried to ignore the gentle pulse of a dead rodent only a few inches underneath her feet. It wasn't a bird; she had likely been right about the squirrel. And it felt like it might only be bones now. Would Jade like– No, she needed to focus. And not on the rodent. The worms, she was here for the worms. She owed the worms. And they were alive, so really, Regan deserved double the praise, because the worms weren’t particularly interesting to her beyond her guilty and their apparent capability to speak (she nearly shot a mental apology to her grandmother but thought better of it). Oh, it wasn’t one rodent. It was two. Were they like the lemmings? Regan toed the soil like she could dig the remains up with just her foot. Jonas was still talking to the worms. Something about being loved back, like he had experienced some rejection of his own. That was unfortunate. Death never rejected anyone. His future would be brighter.

Maybe she could dig them up with her foot. They weren’t all that deep, so– a tiny cry from behind her made her jump. Another worm? A long, grey worm with what looked like a full head of ginger hair slithered in front of Regan. She was a little sluggish, actually. This had to be another one of her own worms, right? Like Worming. There was a resemblance… siblings, perhaps? Regan snapped to actual attention when she heard what the newcomer was saying. Soggerella’s worm servant, her handless maiden, was in love with her. Regan’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. 

All eyes (Regan’s and Jonas’s, not the eyeless worms) were on Soggerella. The crowd was silent. Like worms. The prince looked offended, his cape flung in front of him. Regan was never shy about breaking silence – in fact, she usually saw it as a personal invitation. “Princess?” She asked, “Is this satisfactory?” Not what Regan had come here for, which was irritating, but who was she to stand in the way of love? Even Siobhan refused to do that. A happy ending for everyone, and Regan could clear her conscience. Well, everyone except Worming and the general, but Georgeous was one of her worms, too, and she would be happy.

When Soggerella cried back, Regan breathed out tension that she hadn’t recognized.

“Oh, Georgeous! This whole time? Truly? Thou? And thee?” Soggerella fanned herself with her tail. The slime pouring from her face thickened, pooling beneath the two worms. The sun marked it with a rainbow streak of light. “Forget the prince! Thou are grey as the most wondrous stone, my five hearts doth grow drenched. Thee shall not retire to your abode yet, for, together, our love will be known across all of Terramoist.” 

Soggerella wrapped around Georgeous, and her girthy pink head angled upward, to the very top of an impressive throne of dirt, as if she strived to be there. The army worm mumbled something to the prince, concerned. Regan still wasn’t the best judge of worm expressions, but Worming seemed almost afraid.

And, hold on, the worms were… gay? Could worms be gay? Weren’t worms– oh, forget it. She wasn’t sure what was worth questioning anymore. She could return to her mental breakdown later. Jonas could join her if he wanted, though he seemed rather comfortable here. She was going to have to rip that particular band-aid off of him.

“We are no longer necessary.” Regan tugged at Jonas’s sleeve to get his attention. “You’re too long, and I’m too impressive. I mean, uh, normal.” Leanbh. Maybe not impressive. But normal! Several standard deviations above regular normal, though wouldn’t that mean– “YES. Normal. Me. Come on. We should leave them to their blissful worm intercourse.” Seeing worms copulate once (hers, with Siobhan’s, which were really too girthy when you thought about it) was already more than she needed, but there were a couple of questions that kept her in place. “Do you think this is good for the kingdom?” Regan asked Jonas, then checked on Prince Worming again out of the corner of her eye. The worms that had previously held him up had scattered, gathering around the coupled Soggerella and Georgeous instead. His cape was torn up. His long face drooped, slime wetting the earth. Regan looked back at Jonas. “Soggerella requested my help for love, sure, but also for the good of her, uh… worm… people. What do you think will become of Worming?” 

Regan gave the princely worm one last, lingering look, an uneasy shadow hanging over Worming, and, perhaps, all of Terramoist. It was probably nothing, that feeling (harbinger of death? Not anymore). So Regan chose instead to think about Soggerella and Georgeous, and their true, wet love. That was good, wasn’t it? She had helped. She had been useful. She had done something good, something that didn’t have to do with death, and didn’t it feel so right?

—

Jonas' eyes widened as the worms seemed to writhe and wiggle on top of each other. The happy pair was passed down the aisle of red to the stone that acted as an altar. A pink priest, if his hat was anything to go by, was holding his head up high as he read the vows to the girls praising their union under the light of Wormodite, the goddess that granted them love and blessed the little wormlings that would come from such sacred unions. Jonas wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that worms were monogamous or that they had a religious institution set up. Then again he never thought worms could talk or had genders until today.

The tug on his sleeve broke him from his thoughts of how a worm society was more accepting to the lgbt community than his own, as he stared at Regan’s lips. “I think you are quite um impressive.” He wasn’t sure why the doctor seemed to be putting herself down but was more than happy to leave this place. “You came to help them and helped me, that is um far from just normal!” Joans smiled but paused at the question looking back at the forlorn prince, feeling bad for his former captor. 

The worms around him were celebrating in tangled messes, doing what he didn’t know, well until the good doctor brought up copulating. His eyes widened and he did his best to look away feeling as if he was being a pervert for watching something so intimate. Jonas lifted his hand to block the view entirely, “I um am unsure. Perhaps he will find another lover, but I do not um think it is right for us to meddle anymore.” Scientists were always saying it was better not to interfere in nature, or as Star Trek put it ‘No starship may interfere with the normal development of any alien life or society,’ they should leave them as they are to do as they please. Then again the crew of the Enterprise hardly listened to such a rule. 

It was taking a great deal of effort not to go back and pick up the sad gray worm. Jonas was trying to remind himself that said worm had kidnapped him just last night as he walked away from the clearing, “Oh, um would you be able to help me find my phone? I um… Lil may be worried for me.” He also didn’t want to leave his phone where the worms could find it and reverse engineer the technology. That sort of thing always happened in Star Trek. he couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the worms to have electricity and telephones, but something told him it was for the better that they did not. For once Jonas was very glad he could not hear, he couldn’t begin to imagine what worm sex sounded like and was more than happy to never find out. No for now he would ponder how to explain things to Lil once he got back home and what to bake for the doctor as a thank you. The worms would fade from his mind and be left to the fate of their own making. 

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

A Great Big Phech-niverse Chapter 2

Tech and Phee post canon with the question "Would you still love me if I was a worm" but with a twist!

AO3

The rustling of sheets told Tech that Phee had rolled back over towards him before he even heard her voice. “Okay, what is it?”

Tech sighed. “It is inconsequential.”

“Tech, I’ve heard you hemming and hawing for the past twenty minutes. Something’s on your mind, and I really don’t think it’s inconsequential.”

Had it really been that long?

Tech turned over in the bed so he could face Phee. “I heard a phrase spoken by some adolescents earlier today. It has remained with me since then.”

Without his goggles, he could not see the definite details of his fiancée’s face, but her smile was discernible. “Kids say the darnedest things sometimes, but whatever it was seems to be bothering you.”

“That it is,” Tech paused at the sound of a moon-yo scampering across the roof. “It is an interesting question to ponder on the terms of love among sentient beings.”

“Ooo, getting deep,” Phee propped herself up on her elbows. “Okay, Brown Eyes, lay it on me.”

Tech took a deep breath. “Would you still love me if I was a platypus?”

Silence, save for the nocturnal insects and the moon-yo chittering.

“Run that by me again, Brown Eyes?”

He nodded. “The youths were talking about it as a question that apparently circulated with couples near the end of the Clone Wars. The question was whether or not one member of a romantic partnership would continue to love the other if they were a platypus.”

“You’re asking if I would still love you if you were a platypus?”

“Correct.”

“Huh,” Phee mused. “Why a platypus?”

“I was unclear until I refreshed my knowledge of the creature. They are native to Ailartsua and while there is little knowledge of their cohabitation, it has been documented they live a solitary existence save for mating.”

“Am I also a platypus in this scenario too?”

“No, you are your normal human self. Only I am the platypus.”

She made a noise of disappointment. “Damn. They might look funny, but swimming would be a breeze.”

“That is true,” Tech mused.

“To answer your question, yes.”

“Yes?” 

“I think you’d be a lovely platypus,” she said. “I don’t know how platypus brains work and if you’d still love me, but if we woke up tomorrow and you were a platypus, I’d still love you. Even if you just wanted to swim all day long.”

The sentient made Tech smile. “I hope I would still love you if I was a platypus.”

”I hope you’d still have those brown eyes as one,” Phee chuckled. “Although what goes on inside would matter more than the out. I hope your personality would still be there. It’s one of the reasons I fell for you anyways.”

“And your ability to look beyond exteriors is one of your many attractive qualities,” Tech told her. “I do fear our wedding plans would no longer be in effect if I was a platypus though.”

“Yeah, but I’d still want platypus Tech in my life.”

To hear that affirmation that he was important to her still made Tech feel butterflies after all their time together. 

“For what it’s worth, I would like to have you remain in my life if you were a platypus and would still have feelings of affection for you provided your personality was intact and not overridden by animalistic instincts.”

“You love me for me,” she translated.

“Correct.”

Phee shifted over in the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, Brown Eyes. Now we should get some sleep. Hunter’s having us over for breakfast tomorrow.”

He nodded in agreement, slipping his hand under the covers to find hers. “However, I’m now pondering the multiversal universe theory, and if there is a universe where the both of us are platypi?”

“Maybe so?” Phee yawned. “Ask me again in the morning though. Last time we were yawning, Crosshair thought we’d been up to something else and kept grinning.”

-0-

In another universe…

“Tech?” Platypus Phee asked as she packed more mud against the side of their nest.

”Yes, Phee?” Platypus Tech turned to his mate from where he was placing the new grasses down.

”Would you still love me if I was a sloth?”

[seefullforecast]

S.H.

Part 2 Mr Cool

Steve x oc

part 1

"Let me get this straight. You were some lab rat and have had these powers for as long as you can remember, you managed to escape and now after all this time you're back because you have a 'bad feeling'." Steve was no longer shouting. Instead he just seemed confused and Mia could understand how that felt.

"I mean that is all grossly simplified but yeah pretty much." Mia responded trying to pull her wet jacket off her whilst under the restraints of her seatbelt. 

"okay so um this bad feeling you had, that's why you were in the woods?"

"You know I think you've maybe had enough so I'm gonna pop that question in the classified pile." Mia knew opening up the can of worms that was monsters was too much in one night for Steve.

"Classified yeah okay whatever I don't believe any of this." he grumbled his focus still on the road. The rain was getting lighter now but it was still quite dark out.

"You don't have to." she stated matter of factly.

"what?"

'I said you don't have to. I just needed a getaway car so thank you for that. And anyways even if you go to the police or tell your friends or whoever it's not like they're going to believe you. Even I know how crazy this all sounds." She chuckled to herself as she played out in her head what it would be like for Steve trying to explain all this to the police. 

"Yep okay you are totally crazy." he confirmed to himself. 

"Whatever could you just drop me off somewhere central in town, I need to find a hotel for the night." She was done with his comments and crossed her arms already regretting her actions leading her into this situation. 

Steve glanced at Mia. She was about his age. She wore a pair of jeans and a white tee, her jacket now strewn across the backseats of his car. Her hair was flat and dripping and along with being covered in mud she also had blood all over half her face.

"I cant believe I'm about to say this." Steve muttered to himself looking up to the sky hoping that if god was real he would protect him in the future from anything that may occur as a direct result of what he was about to say. 

"Look it's the middle of the night and you're not going to get anywhere to stay at this time looking like that. I'll take you back to my place but..." He was cut off. He was beginning to realise this was a bit of a pattern.

"no way."

"no way? What do you mean no way I thought you needed somewhere to crash."

"I do but I'm not going back to yours I don't know you. How do I know you don't drive around at night trying to pick people up to take them back to your lair."

"Lair? what is this the Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

"Oh my god the fact you even thought of that confirms you were thinking of it." Mia shot at him accusingly.

"That doesn't even make any sense. Besides you have literal super powers. If anything I am still scared that you are going to kill me."

"Fine okay let's make a deal, I crash at yours tonight, I don't kill you, you don't kill me and I'll keep my mouth shut about the fact that you either need your eyes checked or your licence taken off you." Mia didn't have any other leverage on the boy and knew she would need something to try and keep him quiet. She came back to Hawkins for a reason and would be screwed if Steve was the reason she failed within her first few moments here. 

Steve contemplated it for a second and nodded his head with a tight lipped smile mumbling a few okays. He tapped the steering wheel to a random beat in his anxious state. He was still up a height over everything he had just witnessed but a small part of him knew he would feel guilt and regret if he was just to leave the girl on the side of the road not to see her again. She has literal super powers. You only see that shit in the movies!

A few minutes of awkward silence passed between the two. Mia pretended to take interest in the scenery out of her window. Steve kept glancing at her then back to the road still with so many questions on his mind.

"You're right though." he tried to start. She gave him a quizzical look. "Apart from your hero and or villain origin story we don't actually know anything about each other." Steve's eyes  were wide as he spoke, Mia noticed, clearly still spooked. Maybe small talk was what they needed.

"How about we play a game. We each get to ask the other a question and the other has to answer it, yeah?" He suggested.

"That's not a game that's just us having a conversation. What's your idea of fun if those are the kind of games you're playing?" Mia knew he was digging and did not want to put herself in a position where she was showing all her cards too early. She was taught from an early age not to trust people. 

"Look I'll go first okay, um okay let's see um." Steve rattled his brain. There was so much on the tip of his tongue that he actually needed a moment to organise all the mess. "Favourite ice cream flavour go!" He managed to force out and was actually a little proud of himself for doing so.

"Ice-cream flavour?" she really didn't know why he had asked that. She couldn't understand why of all things that would be the first thing he would want to know in this so called game of his.

"Don't think! Just say that's the whole point go on." He was frantically nodding his head in encouragement. God this boy was like a golden retriever. 

"Okay well I think that uh..."

"I said not to think!" he caught her off guard. She began fumbling her words and he kept pressing for an answer. 

"Ice cream flavour go!"

"Maybe..."

"Just go! On instinct what's the first thing that pops to your head."  

"I don't know oh my goodness let me just..."

"Hey do I need to go over the rules again look I'll go first." There was no anger between the two despite the heightened voices. Granted they were both shouting but more like a couple of younger kids who are overly excited and are about to be scolded by an adult nearby. 

"Chocolate!" Steve yelled. 

"Chocolate?"

"Woah what's wrong with chocolate?"

"Nothing nothing I just didn't peg you for the kind to sit and indulge in chocolate ice cream." She shrugged.

"I do not indulge in chocolate ice cream okay? You say it as if every night I sneak downstairs to steal a tub of ice cream then hide the remains so nobody suspects anything. It's ice cream! Everyone loves ice cream." Steve tried to defend himself but once he had finished his little rant continued to glance between the girl and the road catching a growing smile on he face.

"What? What are you smiling at?" He questioned. She began laughing now. Not for the first time since seeing this girl he was confused. 

"You totally do sneak ice cream!" She managed to tease between her giggles.

At this point Steve could only roll his eyes. Getting something out of this girl was like trying to draw blood from a stone. It was impossible.

"Excuse me for trying to get to know the stranger I have in my car."

"And you thought the best place to start would be with my favourite flavour of ice cream?"

"You can tell a lot from a person by what they choose."

"Evidently." she stated given all she had learned about Steve from his answer. "But I guess I would have to say chocolate too, now that you've made such a song and dance about it." 

Steve let out a breathy laugh in response. This random girl in a matter of minutes knew how to get under his skin. He thought she was crazy but maybe he was a little mad himself for going along with it all. At least that's what he was telling himself.

"Home sweet home." Steve announced as he pulled the car into the drive. Nothing but the few street lamps lit the way. The rain seemed to have gotten lighter for the meantime but Steve had remembered the news that morning predicting a bad storm throughout the night. 

The two teens hopped out of the car and made their way into the home, Steve leading the way. Mia took note at the size of the house when she first entered. It was spacious and clean and photos and pictures littered the odd empty space. 

Steve shook off his jacket to hang it up and noticed Mia must have left hers on the backseat of his car as she stood there shivering before him. 

"Nice place, nobody else is here right?" She seemed worried he noted. From what she had explained to him in the car about being held captive as a child he assumed she didn't take too well to strangers. That and the events that occurred on their short drive home.

"Yeah no, parents are on a business trip so as far as the eye can see is all King Steve's" He dropped his keys onto the side and lead her into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a couple cans of coke, passing one to Mia. 

She refused to touch it. Her eyes locked on the can and Steve noticed. Blinking and clearing her throat she pulled back choosing to ignore the gesture altogether. 

"Can I use your bathroom?" She timidly asked. This girl didn't seem like the same girl that was in his car. She had recoiled and looked like a claustrophobic person  who had just got trapped in a broken down elevator. 

"Yeah, yeah sure right this way." He spoke softly leading the girl upstairs. "Theres towels on the top shelf for you to take a shower and I'll leave you a change of clothes outside of the door for when you're done." He brought her into the bathroom.

He went to walk out but paused at the door when she called his name.

"Steve..." she gulped. "Thank you, by the way." She felt vulnerable and exposed despite being fully clothed and having not actually told him too much about herself. But she had. He knew she had powers and didn't belong anywhere other than a government facility as far as she was concerned. She just needed a place to stay and warm up. Steve was the best she was going to get, she didn't need anything more than that.

"Yeah of course." he blinked still speaking in his same soft tone. "Uh theres uh stuff in the cabinet if you need a bandaid of anything." He motioned above the sink where they were kept for the cuts she had gained due to her time in the woods. The full extent of what happened he was still in the dark about. 

He gave her one last look before pulling the door behind him shut. He went into his room to grab Mia a change of clothes. One of his old crewneck sweaters and sweatpants would do. He also took out a pair of socks and laid the folded pile of clothes outside the bathroom door where he could hear the shower turning off. Whilst she was finishing up he went to grab some spare blankets and pillows.

Mia was just drying the ends of her hair when she actually had a moment to see the gash on her head. How could such a small cut bleed so much. She wiped the mirror above the sink free from the condensation and closed her eyes tight. Something she had grown to learn from an early age was that she didn't always need first aid kits. Smaller cuts were simple. Focusing her energy she pictured her face in her mind and saw herself without it. When she opened her eyes the cut was gone. 

"Good as new." She smiled. Pulling on the clothes Steve had left her she had to roll the waistband over a couple of times so she wasn't tripping over them. She folded the towel she used and left it on the side not knowing where the boy kept his laundry. 

Opening the door she came back out into the hallway and was not too sure which of the rooms Steve was in at first. She saw a light coming from the end of the hall and followed it assuming she would find him there. She was right. As she stood in the doorway she saw him making a bed on the floor out of numerous pillows and blankets. It all looked quite excessive actually. His back was to her and he hadn't realised she was there yet. She took a moment to glance around his room.

"What's a blondie?" She questioned whilst startling the boy. When he turned to the voice he found her standing on his bed pointing to one of the posters on his wall. He thought she was joking. He thought she was trying to lead him into some sort of trick to try and embarrass him. 

"Yeah right." He grabbed her arm pulling her down from the bed and crossed his arms. Mia stood waiting for him to expand. "Wait you're serious?"he asked judging by her confused face it did not look like Mia had any idea who Blondie were. 

"Okay I'm gonna put it down to the fact that you most likely have a lot of other stuff on your plate rather than the fact that you are just plain ignorant but they're a band." he tried to explain assuming there was probably lots of music she didn't know about. 

She gave him a look to show she was slightly unimpressed. 

"Right well, I grabbed you some blankets and made you a little bed, or if you'd prefer there is the couch you could always..." He changed the subject.

"No this is fine yeah thanks." The two of them both awkwardly stood nodding slightly. 

"Okay no I cant do it. I cant do it." Steve broke first raising his voice. Mia could only roll her eyes and sat herself onto Steve's bed. She crossed her legs and watched as he paced in front of her.

"You just get in my car in the middle of the night after running into the road and do this weird witchy woo voodoo shit then suddenly you're sleeping in my room tonight."

Mia started picking at her nails zoning out of the rambling ahead of her.

"And don't think I didn't notice you have magically healed. What the fuck is going on I need some serious answers if you're staying in my bedroom." He ranted slightly out of breath and coming to a stop in front of the girl. 

"Why, do all girls need to have an interview before sleeping in your room?"

"God dammit!" He knew it was useless but he was so frustrated nonetheless. His hands made fists at his sides as he threw them around above his head seemingly trying to shake out the frustrations. Mia could honestly not believe the fact that this boy was breaking down in front of her and she was the cause. The thought made her giggle slightly to herself. 

"Would you sit down already your pacing is hurting my magically healed head." She grabbed his raised hand and forced him to sit opposite her on his bed and also cross his legs.

"Thank you, I"m cool, okay I'm good."

"Sure looks it Mr cool." she referred to his weird outbreak but he decided to ignore the jab. "Since you have made me a bed and have given me some clothes I think it is only fair that I give you three questions." She felt sick as she spoke. Mia really was not a people person but thought she would get a better nights sleep if Steve could also maybe sleep. 

Steve was surprised at that. A little part of him couldn't help but think it was a trick though. She was probably going to let him ask all his questions and then refuse to answer anyways. 

"You mean it?" he cautiously asked making eye contact.

"I do, ask away." She felt obligated to open up somehow no matter how much she was reluctant to do so. 

"What exactly is it that you can do? These powers you have?" she had predicted that would be one of the questions. 

Mia thought it would be better to show Steve rather than tell him. Steve watched her close her eyes tight and take in a deep breath. The light above him flickered and the radio alarm clock he had began tuning frequencies until the sound of a local station came through. His bedroom door slammed shut and his bedroom curtains shot open. Steve made his way to his window in awe at the streetlights one by one going out like it was a synchronised light show. 

"Woah..." he mumbled turning back to Mia. When she opened her eyes all the lights returned to normal and his radio shut off. She wiped the small blood that had started dripping from her nose. "So um that was cool." he stated actually impressed by what he had just seen.

"Cool was probably the last thing I thought you were gonna say." She muttered more to herself.

Steve with a burst of energy now jumped back onto his bed where he was sitting before, ready for his next question.

"How long have you had these powers?" he wondered still astonished at what he witnessed from her.  

"For as long as I can remember really. I escaped the lab a few years ago and to be honest haven't used them since meeting you. I was always scared something bad would happen like I would lose control and they would find me." As she spoke Mia had wrapped her arms herself and looked down as she spoke as if she was ashamed. Her voice was soft and meek like a hurt mouse. 

"They would find you, what the people from the lab? When you say escape, do you mean you were trapped there because of what you can do, did they hurt you?"

"They were bad men Steve and I saw my chance and took it. Leaving the others behind." Mia had a solemn look on her face as she spoke still holding herself tight.

"Mia, if you ran away why are you back?" Steve thought back to finding her running from the woods of all places, the more he was finding out in drips and drabs the more it didn't make sense and the more questions he had. 

"I told you I had a bad feeling. Something about this town, about that lab..." She didn't know how to explain it to him so he could understand. She looked up to see his eyes transfixed on her urging her to go on. "I've always felt so guilty for leaving and now felt like the right time to do the right thing." 

"Well that's not vague at all!" he exclaimed.

"I think that's your three questions Harrington Steve Harrington. Now if you do not mind I shall be going to sleep now." Mia didn't want to go any further. She knew he was probably even more antsy now to interrogate her but she couldn't let herself. Steve seemed nice enough and didn't want to drag him into any sort of mess she knew she was going to cause. 

She pulled back one of the blankets that Steve had put on the floor for her and lowered herself down. Steve sighed and found himself following suit in his own bed. 

As the two of them lay in the room the storm outside continued to grow worse and yet it felt so quiet to Mia. She closed her eyes in hopes of trying to sleep. She knew it was futile as if she did try to sleep it would just allow the nightmares of the monster she had been seeing for weeks to take over her head again.

Disturbing the silence Steve began hitting his pillow trying to fluff it up. Then he began shuffling his covers so it was sitting right over his body. When he started turning in his bed to find the comfiest position that was when Mia had enough and decided nightmares in her head were better than whatever the fuck she was currently experiencing. Steve wouldn't settle and she knew she was right in liking him to a golden retriever earlier. 

"I just find it weird how that cut on your head..." He finally broke the silence

"Dear Lord help me find strength not to murder this boy!" She yelled into her pillow rolling onto her stomach. 

"Hey we made a deal not to do that!" He shot upright pointing an accusatory finger in Mia's direction. 

[wishitweresummer]

Nights Like This

GeorgeNotFound x Sapnap

Word count: 659

Warning: Kissing.

This is for snf week!!! If you want to participate, you still can! The prompts are very cute!! It was put together by hiddenheavens!! Everyone was really cool about my tickle fics and has been nothing but sweet and amazing. I’ll definitely participate more next time!! (And everyone say thank you to @dreamnotnapss for bringing this to tumblr <333)

Day 7: Bonus Day (I chose Playful Kissing)

“Sapnap!!”, the shrill shriek of terror filled the darkening night. Sapnap loved it. Everything about George was so exciting.

Sapnap had always been annoyed to be the youngest. Everyone else years ahead of him. He always felt behind. Well, until he fell for George. Even though the other was so much older, he never felt it. Sapnap could be himself and sink into the childlike excitement of being in the other’s presence. His best friend.

Now, he chased him through the yard. No cares in the world. George’s lovely shrieks were only getting more panicked and louder as he almost got his hands on that tiny waist just out of reach.

Neighbors next door? Dream inside trying to sleep? Who cares?

George’s foot slipped out from underneath him and they both toppled over each other. Loud cackles rang out as they rolled through mud and Sapnap ended up on top.

“No!”, George yelped. They wrestled, messy. Already covered in mud and uncaring for more. Sapnap grappled with George’s hands and when he couldn’t get ahold of them, he aimed for ticklish sides instead. George screamed. Sapnap laughed as he collapsed against him when the boy convulsed.

They rolled and flipped. Complete messes. The rain came down at an unforgiving pace as they giggled close to each other’s faces. Closer than friends should be, but who’s watching? It felt like there was no one else in the world.

George reached up and smudged mud across Sapnap’s forehead; hat long gone. He quickly ducked down and nuzzled his face into George’s neck until he was screeching.

That dreaded inch Sapnap had once thought meant everything, really meant nothing. Under him, George was helpless and sweet. He felt so small. He could be manhandled so easily. And the slightest bit of teasing made him flame with adorable embarrassment. A few well placed pokes could bring the taller to his knees. Sapnap was obsessed with how much smaller George felt even if he technically wasn’t.

Sapnap sat up on top of him. They were both breathless and giggling. At some point between the backdoor and here, they had lost their minds together. Or maybe it was when George landed in Florida? Or when Sapnap touched down in London? Maybe it was when they met for the first time all those years ago through a screen.

Either way they were together and it was so exciting. Wild eyes met each other in the darkness.

George grabbed roughly at the front of Sapnap’s soaked shirt and pulled him back down. They fell together like they were always meant to. With lips wet with rainwater and breaths stolen from laughter, they kissed.

This was the first, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like home. Like fate. Sapnap whimpered against the connection and George tugged him in closer and they sunk in deeper. Love. Electricity sparked between them and the sky lit up with the proof. Deafening thunder clapped around them and the sky opened up, drenching them further.

With a surge of energy, George was on top. The rain was warm, but George’s hands were freezing as they wormed up Sapnap’s shirt. The younger shrieked and giggled. Kisses became sloppy as Sapnap desperately tried to keep their lips connected while also trying to keep George’s playful hands away.

George pulled back and they panted together. Dream would be so mad if he knew they were out here making out in the mud in the middle of a thunderstorm. Thank god they had him to keep them grounded. Well, not now. George giggled as the lightning lit up the sky and illuminated how much of a mess Sapnap looked.

Instantly, he was flipped into the mud on his back and shrieking laughter filled the beautiful night. It’s volume competed with the thunder. But really, nothing was as loud as them.

Their love. Messy and loud and everything.

[enbysiriusblack]

ooooh okay Lily headcanons!!

She’s chubby definitely, and at one point she had hair that grew right down to her waist (but then chopped it all off into a mullet during fifth year or something)

Loves Doctor Who. Her and Remus bonded over it. She’s more of a fan of the TV show while Remus is more of a fan of the comics.

She’s Jewish. I am correct about this.

She’s a dirt girlie, as in she loves getting her hands dirty, gardening, playing in the mud, dirt under her fingernails, digging up worms and woodlice, do you understand my vision.

Always braiding everyone’s hair at all time. Hers, the Girls, Sirius, James (even though his hair is definitely not long enough, she still tries).

She’s a thrift store kinda girl. All of her clothes are from charity shops by choice.

Massive cat person.

She has sooooo many freckles they are literally ALL over her!! James says they look like stars <3

She’s from Scotland and has a Scottish accent bc yeah.

She’s pansexual imo and definitely had a crush on Marlene at the very least and totally dated Mary for a bit before James.

I have more but these are the ones off the top of my head I love her so much. Rotating her around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

chubby lily- yes so true!! i can def see the hair thing. i feel like she'd have the really long hair and cut it off after her and severus fall out (cause of the whole hair holding memories thing)

doctor who- yess. i cannot see lily reading comics at all, but she'd def love the tv show (she's a sarah jane girl)

jewish- so so real. i think thats anothet one of the things her and remus bonded over, although remus isn't religious whilst she is

dirt girlie- 100% true. literally as a kid she spent almost every day playing with severus in the woods. and at hogwarts she helps out slughorn with getting potion ingredients

braiding her- feel like it would so be a calming thing for her. like exams are stressing her out, or she got a mean letter from her sister, and one of her friends just sits in front of her, lets her braid their hair

charity store- yess. i mean by choice but also its cheaper than normal stores and she is fairly poor. she'd also always notice clothes that her friends would like and just grab it for them. also always uses things not as theyre meant to be used for (tie as a belt, shoelace as a hair ribbon, shirt as a skirt, etc.)

cat person- YES. her and james so got a kitten as soon as they finished school (in my head lily moved in with like all the marauders plus marlene and dorcas so literally all of them were straight away coparenting a cat)

freckles- so true.

scottish- yes yes. i feel like her accent would be very strong. she makes fun of her english friends all the time (with the help of remus, marlene, emmeline, and dorcas)

pansexual- real!! very much agree.

[captain-joongz]

Hello! I saw your update on how the next chapter of Dragonheart is going and I just wanted to let you know I have not been this excited for a fic on this site in a while. The first chapter was phenomenal and I’m looking forward to the rest. That’s all. Have a nice day!

that's so lovely darling! thank you so much for coming in to tell me like this, it made me so happy!

i really hope the rest of the fic keeps you happy and interested as well, i also love writing it and it's so rewarding knowing people are just as excited about it as i am <3

and as a thank you for being so amazing, here's a little sneak peak for you:

“Hobi-hyung!” Jungkook shouted out, nearly vibrating and full of toothy grins. Based on his reaction (to which I didn’t secretly smile at all, I was cold as stone definitely) it was probable that the older dragon decided to drop in unannounced.

“Hello younglins,” the man greeted us with, extending the expression to me as well, which… fair. His smiley face turned to me, eyes scanning me head to toe with a calculating gaze, a sliver of seriousness surfacing through.

“I am Hoseok. Nice to meet you, potential rider,” he introduced himself in the end. Whatever he saw when looking at me, I nervously hoped it wouldn’t make him get Jungkook to reject the bond.

With anxious eyes flitting around, I bowed to him which he reciprocated and then shook his offered hand, both of our gloves firmly on. Jungkook and Jimin were both watching us with sharp eyes and bated breath, Jungkook hopeful and Jimin with that strange darkness I couldn’t fully place.

“Nice to meet you too, Sir Hoseok,” my voice wavered slightly, but I hoped they’d disregard it as usual nervousness when people met them, and wouldn’t read too much into it. That they wouldn’t find out just how desperate I was for this to work out.

“No sir here, young mistress, dragons don’t get titles,” he said it teasingly, but a little bitterness still wormed its way into his voice. I swallowed, finally taking my hand back after realising I’d been shaking it for a suspiciously long time and gave him my own wonky smile.

“I will call you Hoseok-ssi then,” I insisted, carefully toeing the line between polite and smarmy, “My name is Kang Y/N, of the northern clan.” I saw clearly how Hoseok tried and failed to keep his face neutral, how his smile froze and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown the moment he realised what family I belonged to. I tried not to let it hurt me. Tried not to panic that this was the end for me, and he’d never allow me near his thunder again.

“Neither of you rascals mentioned she is General Kang’s daughter,” he gritted through his teeth and stiff grin, eyes shooting daggers and warnings towards the two younger dragons. Both of them watched him with wide eyes, guilty and innocent all at once, trying to buy themselves some leeway.

I had no idea whether they didn’t mention on purpose or whether they forgot, but I had to quickly get on top of this.

“You know my father, huh?” I chuckled awkwardly, jumping in panicked before anything else could be said, “He does have quite the reputation.”

When Hoseok turned his gaze back to me, it was a lot less warm even though he was still grinning at me. I felt the shiver run through me at the change, my instincts suddenly kicking in now that he looked significantly less friendly.

“I fear there isn’t a single person in this city, maybe even in this empire, who doesn’t know your father,” came his stilted reply. And it made sense really, all of the dragons must have known my father for all his life. They’ve probably had to deal with him ever since he himself entered the Academy some 30 years ago. Yikes.

What does one say in a situation like this? Sorry about that? I would have killed him years ago if I didn’t need him alive still?

Another bout of extremely awkward silence blanketed over us, and with every second stretching I felt the dread pull me deeper and deeper into the mud, mind racing and trying to come up with a way to save this. My chest hurt from how fast my heart beat and I felt the panic licking at the seams of my mind, but in the end the atmosphere was saved by Jungkook himself.

“Don’t be too scared, hyung just has a personal vendetta against him,” the young dragon suddenly blurted out, immediately flushing as Jimin barely covered how he burst out laughing. Hoseok also froze and in wonder I saw some of the coldness melt away into embarrassment, the man rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that in front of her,” he whined lightly, and it was both a tease and a warning, but finally I shook myself out of my stupor and laughed as well.

“Don’t worry about it, as his daughter I’m more than used to people having grudges against him,” I said amicably, playing it as cool as I could with my hands shaking and tongue stuttering me up, “as I said – he has quite the reputation.”

Hoseok laughed politely, but his gaze was stuck on Jungkook, promising some kind of a dressing down later when they’re alone, which the young dragon steadily ignored with an easy smile, but in a way that made me queasy. It was foolish of me to forget the weight of tossing my surname around like that.

we'll be meeting all the dragons in this chapter and the tensions are high! see you when it comes out, lovely anon <3

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: Every Man Must Choose His Way

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: Gunshot wound, stitches, angst

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Word count: 3189 || Approx reading time: 13 mins

Every Man Must Choose His Way

Teaser: At my gasp—pain is ripping through my entire goddamn abdomen—Bree Cooper jerks awake in the chair where she was dozing. For a moment, I do not know where I am or why everything hurts or what happened that led up to this moment.

Jamie

When Will and I were kids, things were easy and soft, even when they weren’t. He was always pissing someone off, and yet miraculously he always seemed to worm his way out of things, and sometimes he even managed to get what he wanted. Including the time he came home with the dog.

“You can’t keep it,” I remember telling him. “Joe will kill you.” I liked to think of myself as the man of the house back then, when Dad was away building the new railroad along the stretch of coast that would eventually become his tomb. And I knew our landlord Joe wouldn’t be happy if we suddenly had a dog yelping into the deep hours of the night.

That was how it always was: Will did something silly, and I tried to talk him out of it.

He turned his ridiculous eyes to me with a mournful expression that so perfectly matched the puppy he was clutching in his arms that suddenly I forgot all the reasons we couldn’t keep a dog.

Just as I can still hear my time-misted voice, so stern and childish at once, telling him to take it back where he found it, I can still see, too, the look on his face when I went back on my refusal. “Fine,” I said, “but that mutt is yours. You need to take care of it.”

“She’s not a mutt,” he insisted. “She’s perfect.”

She was—which was less than true about the next puppy he brought home a few days later.

“Don’t even think about it!” I had no idea where he was even finding those beasts, and I never found out.

“Jamie, look at her!”

Some cursed compulsion had me stretching out my hand to stroke the dog’s silky ears.  She took one look at me, sank her little puppy teeth into my thumb, and we were inseparable for years.

If Will was chaos, his pup was calm. If I was reason, then my dog was pure bedlam.

“I’ll never understand why you chose that one,” Ma said. It was a few months before she died. Her eyes were still clear, body failing but her mind still with us. I think I was nursing a new scratch along my arm, cursing and swearing while the damn creature sat on her haunches looking at me with a look of innocence on her deceptive goddamn little face.

“Neither do I,” I grumbled, pressing a mass of cotton to my arm to soak up the blood. But I knew—and Ma did, too—that if anything had happened to her, I would have fallen apart.

Ma blinked and smiled and puckered her lips at my little mutt as if to kiss her. The dog growled back.

When I open my eyes, Ma is gone, and so are the dogs. So is Will.

At my gasp—pain is ripping through my entire goddamn abdomen—Bree Cooper jerks awake in the chair where she was dozing. For a moment, I do not know where I am or why everything hurts or what happened that led up to this moment.

Fuck.

“How are you…” Bree’s words trail off when I try to shift. “Wait. Wait for Allan. Don’t pull on the—”

The wound.

God, I took a fucking musket ball in my side.

Allan. I can dimly conjure his image, though he doesn’t seem to be in the room now. Earlier, I woke up with rain pelting me in the face, and he was there, soaked through and perfectly calm, giving Bree Cooper quiet instructions as if he’d been born to patch up torn flesh in the mud.

“Will,” I manage. God, I sound rough. “Is he… Did he…” I remember gasping at her in the mud, feeling the sickening mix of icy rain and blood gushing hot against my skin. He got out. “He did get away, right?”

Bree nods. “With Geoff.”

“Hurt?” She shakes her head. “Both of them?”

“They were both all right, I think.”

Although it seems like she’s about to say something, she cuts herself off when someone else enters—the mysterious Allan, I suppose.

“Hello.” He pauses next to me, and I realize I’m sprawled not on a bed but on a table. “I’m pleased to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Like I got shot? Instead of answering, I say, “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Allan. I’m the med—” He stops. “I’m a doctor. I’ve done my best to patch up that wound in your side.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Bree and Allan exchange a glance that appears almost wary, and I wonder what the fuck I missed while I was bleeding and unconscious. When no one responds, I ask, “Why are you helping us?”

Again, that long pause.

“I just got out of training,” says Allan, and I’ll take it, even though that doesn’t answer the question. “Wrote my exam a few weeks ago. Took the first job I was offered—for the constabulary.” The moment he sees me trying to jerk upright, he presses a hand to my shoulder. It’s embarrassing how little pressure it takes to push me back down. “I do not work for them anymore.”

“I don’t understand.” Pressure is building in my chest, panic, fuck, it’s getting harder to breathe.

“I’ve seen how they… What they’re like behind closed doors.” He glances at Bree and her cuts. “I cannot respect them. I certainly can’t work for them.”

 Slogging through everything he’s said, I ask, “You met Will?”

“Briefly, yes.”

“Was he hurt bad?”

“Not as badly as before they hired me, from what I understand.” At this, Bree turns her head away. The only one who knows just how bad it was before.

“How do I know we can trust you?” I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he says, You don’t.

He absently reaches into what I assume is a bag somewhere behind my head, rummaging quietly within. “I tried…” He clears his throat, as if he isn’t sure how to go on. “I tried. To help your brother with what I could. He wouldn’t let me get too close.”

I think of Will on his knees, held down by the constables, looking at me with hollow terror in his eyes.

“And I don’t blame him.” Allan shudders. “He looked at me with such…” The thought ends abruptly, and he stops fiddling with whatever is in his bag. “I saw the way the constables treated him and everyone else in there. I don’t blame him for not trusting me.”

Somewhere in the distance, I can hear other voices, footsteps, the clattering of pots and pans, the scraping of chairs. Must be some sort of boardinghouse where he lives. A regular house, out in the real world, not the one we made for ourselves through IA, just people going about their lives, unbothered by constables and the back-breaking terror of living on the edge every single day. What would be different if I had worked harder to catch that kind of future in my hands rather than grasping the one I did? How would Will’s life have turned out? Who would he—we—be instead?

“I think he might’ve tried to bite me if he got the chance.” The corners of Allan’s mouth twitch, so I can tell he’s trying to be funny, and I know I should be pissed off at the joke. But I’m so tired, and everything hurts like hell, and if I’m being honest, he’s probably right. Grudgingly, I mutter as much out loud.

“I’m sorry for leaving you on the table like this.” Allan gestures to my less-than-comfortable bedding. “I didn’t want to risk moving you. You lost a lot of blood with all the moving around earlier.”

“I don’t care.” Hell, does he think I haven’t slept on a hard floor before? It’s not much different. “Is it bad?”

He tips his head from side to side, as if he’s deciding how to answer. “The musket ball wasn’t lodged in there, but still—it’s worse than that,” he says, nodding towards Bree, and for the first time I notice the bandage around her upper arm. “I’ll need to watch carefully for infection. Black powder is… Well, it can be nasty.”

“It didn’t hurt when I fell.” I frown as I try to remember. “Not really.”

“Well, it will if it becomes infected.” Allan peers down at the bandages on my side. “I’d prefer not to disturb those just yet. How is your pain now?”

“Unpleasant.”

That gets tight smiles out of both of him and Bree. “I mean, how strong is your pain at the moment?”

“Unpleasantly strong.”

Nodding, sighing softly, Allan steps back and glances around the room. “Would you prefer to stay where you are, or try to shift to the bed?”

I don’t have to waste much energy on that question; the thought of moving anywhere is nauseating. “I’ll stay.”

A memory drifts to mind—Will sprawled on a table just like I am now, bandages around his abdomen, too. “Gonna have a scar to match Will’s.”

Bree murmurs, “I think I saw that scar. What happened?”

“He jumped into a fight about two years ago.” Thinking of it still makes my insides shrivel. “Being chivalrous. Helping some girl. In a fucking snowstorm, no less.”

Helping some girl he didn’t know. Unbidden, the image of him during the trade invades my thoughts again. For all his faults, when he wants to, Will can be selfless. He’s good. Yet they made him suffer… Again and again, they hurt him…

So lost in this spiral, I miss the look on Bree’s face until Allan prods her gently, “What’s the matter?”

“A—A fight?” She looks stricken. “What happened? How’d he—”

“Stabbed. Don’t know much else.” I don’t know why she cares so much about something that happened years ago. “He was always cagey on the details.”

She’s got her hand pressed to her mouth. I take another few moments to realize she’s holding back tears. “I didn’t know he was hurt so badly that night.”

“Why would you have kn…” I stop, realizing what she’s saying. For fuck’s sake, the universe is cruel—it likes to play tricks—but this is too much. “It was you?”

My memory of that night: whipping wind and a stolen kiss. Colette’s tangled skirts and Will’s bloody shirt. Terror we might never find him, and spilled-over anger when we finally did.

Even though Will told us why he got a knife in his gut that night, I never thought much about the other character in the story, the one I never saw.

“I didn’t know,” she says, slightly frantic, “I really didn’t, I never would have just walked away if I had known—”

Allan is glancing between us, brows furrowed. “I can see we’re getting distressed here,” he interrupts, “although I’m not entirely sure why. I’m going to go to the kitchen and heat some water. Make some tea. Get some broth going.” To me, he says, “No getting up.” To her, the command is, “Don’t let him get up, and no more upsetting stories, if you please.”

I’m certain this bluntness will make her cry for real, but Bree laughs hollowly. “No promises.”

“Hmm. I mean it.” He disappears.

After a moment, Bree says, “He’s an…interesting fellow.” She’s completely abandoned the previous thread of conversation, per Allan’s instructions, but her voice still quivers.

I watch the doorway through which he vanished. “Do you think we should be trusting him like this?” It’s a question I’d normally ask Colette. But Colette isn’t here.

Bree waits a moment to answer. “He sent the constables in the wrong direction. Pointed them away from where you fell. Do you remember?” I shake my head. “And he helped you anyway even after I tried to throw a rock at his head.”

The laugh this draws out of me sends a wave of fire through my side. “Tried?”

“I missed.” She points toward the bandage on her arm.

The lure of sleep is dangling over me, trying to pull me into its warm embrace—alluring in its promise to dull the pain at least for a while. The prospect of tea, however, is enticing, even if it won’t be as good as Geoff’s. “Maybe it’s a good thing you did.”

She nods.

Silence falls between us. Sleep pulls a little harder on my mind, and her gaze is far away, thoughts apparently completely elsewhere. But there’s something I need to say before I fall asleep.

“You…” My voice draws back her attention. “You came back for me.”

She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Thank you,” I say, “for—for running back. I think you might have—”

“I did it for Will,” she says, cutting me off. “He… He would have run back himself. If Geoff had let him.” She blinks rapidly, and I know she’s holding back tears. “After everything, he would have run back anyway. For you.”

I close my eyes against her gaze, where I see the simmering anger I know I deserve. Will was arrested in my place, was tortured trying to protect me, and only didn’t throw himself back into the arms of constables because Bree risked it for him instead.

“I’m sorry,” I say. She, too, suffered. “I—”

“And I know what you did,” she says, every word rushed, as if she can’t stop them now from spilling out, “sending that message. To the constables. Trying to trade yourself for Will.” When I open my eyes, I catch the last moment of her wiping a tear from her cheek. “And that…. That was… It was courageous. And selfless. But then—but lying to everyone about it—and then guilting everyone else about lying to you.” Her cheeks turn red. “That wasn’t.”

Shit.

“So…” I barely know her, and I shouldn’t care what she thinks, and yet… “I didn’t do it for you. It was for him.”

I want to say something, but when I open my mouth, I realize I have nothing to say.

“I didn’t say anything. You tell them yourself.” She still won’t look at me. “So you better not fucking die. Because if you do, it’ll kill Will, too.” She turns away.

“Thank you, anyway,” I say again, not know how else to respond. I think it comes out in a stutter. “For saving my life.”

“I didn’t.” Her fingers flutter against the bandage on her arm. The sleeve of her shirt—my old shirt—is cut just above the cotton, a faint line of rusty brown staining the fraying threads. “He did.”

Heavy silence hits again, and I let it crush me.

I’m about to drift off into what will surely be nightmares when there’s a crash and a yelp from the other room.

“What the—” Allan’s voice bursts into more of a choke.

Someone else is in there with him.

Fuck.

Bree leaps to her feet, paling. Where did they come from? The front door is in this room, which means they got into the kitchen through the—

“I have some questions,” a familiar voice says, “and you’re going to answer them for me. Now.”

I don’t need anything more to know who’s in there, or what the hell she’s doing.

“Colette! Put the knife down!” At my words, Bree’s face goes from stricken to astonished. “I’m in here!”

“Jamie?”

A scuffling sound—a sharp intake of air—footsteps—and then Colette torrents in.

“Oh, god.” She’s here, alive, she’s all right, gripping my hands tightly enough to hurt. “I was so scared you were dead.”

“Well, you know,” I say, so relieved I’d be laughing if I didn’t think it would split my side right open. “Almost.”

Allan hovers in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand pressed against the side of his neck. “You all have very interesting ways of getting to know people. Violent. Perhaps unnecessarily so.”

Colette glares at him, the daggers in her eyes sharper than the one in her hand. “Allan Armstrong Dale, huh?”

Coughing in a way that sounds suspiciously like it’s covering a laugh, Bree takes over the explanation, which I’m grateful for.

“If you’re a turncoat,” Colette says once she’s heard the story, glancing around Allan’s apartment, “coming back here probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Won’t they come looking for you?”

With a gulp, he says, “I didn’t think of that.” Pacing around a little, Allan goes on, “Maybe they think I’m dead?” After a few moments, we realize he’s musing, mumbling to himself more than us. “Well… I suppose I wasn’t supposed to be there, so perhaps not…”

“Jamie,” Colette says, talking over his muttering, “you can’t stay here. Will is going to lose his mind if he doesn’t know you’re all right.”

I wince. “How is he?”

Her fingers squeeze mine again. “As fine as can be, but I’m scared he’ll go looking for you and end up getting arrested again.”

Just like Bree said.

The very thought of moving is a torment, but I have no choice. “All right. Where did you go?”

She hesitates—actually stumbles over her words. “We’re—Well—” She takes a deep breath. “They’re with my family.”

Hearing that is like taking another musket ball. “What?”

“I left them with my family.”

“You have a family?”

“Obviously I—”

“You have a family who’s still alive?”

Huffing a sigh, she drops my hands. “Yes. And I don’t feel like talking about it because—”

“In six years, you never said a damn thing!”

“Um, can I interrupt?”

We both swing our heads to look at Allan, who is done talking to himself and reapproaching warily. “Might I suggest that it’s hardly the time to be having this argument?” He points to me. “You’re going to exhaust yourself even more and I’d really prefer not to redo your stitches if I don’t have to.”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Colette folds her arms. “He can’t stay here.” Glaring at him, she adds, “He’s coming with us.”

“No.” For the first time, Allan’s voice turns harsh. “Are you mad? Look at him. He needs rest.”

“Then I’ll…” Colette bites her lip. “I’ll send a carriage.”

A rich family who’s still alive, apparently.

With a sigh, she says to Bree and Allan, “It’ll be crowded, I suppose, but it’s best if you come along, too. Unless you have somewhere safe to go.”

Allan frowns as if he isn’t sure.

“May as well,” Colette says, impatience colouring her voice. “If you’re in it, you’re in it. One of us now.”

“I wouldn’t go that f—”

Ignoring him again, Colette says, “Don’t you dare die, Jamie. Will and Geoff are waiting for you.”

Mostly through the conversation, Bree has been silent. Now she glances at me with sharpness—and sadness—in her eyes. “He won’t.”

With a tight smile, Colette presses a kiss against the top of my head, a rare and unexpected show of affection. “Good. Now take your rest. I’ll be back for you. Soon.”

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Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles, @whither-wander-whump 💕

[axl-ul]

The Flight of the Western Crane: Chapter Seventeen

(A reupload/repost of my fic/dark retellingof Journey to the West which can be also found on AO3 under the same name)

(General info about this fic/wip/retelling is here)

****

An orange light cut through the veil of the macaque’s eyelids. The rustling and crunching of old twigs belonged to the ancient banyan, which grew in front of the cave’s entrance, underneath the leather boots woke him up from the trance. The nameless macaque squirmed in his cross-legged seat on a tattered bed roll dirty from the dried mud and full of parasites that emerged from the tall grass seemingly out of nowhere. Yet, his fingers continued to form hand seals one after another. Occasionally, an ominous sharp ping of a claw against a glass interrupted the gestures. “One was born, one shall live, one shall burn.“

He never turned to face the incoming guest.

“Bones to bones, rock to rock.“ He took a fistful of ash and sprinkled the black blood. In the small grey pile, there was a tiny skull with protruding cheekbones, long sharp canine-like teeth and great eye sockets, features well similar to the chanting demon.

Again, his hand moved in the air. “May the eyes melt and may the bones crumble and the mind be stripped of the light. Let it drown in hatred and death. May the innards slide out of the mouth like worms. Let the skin rot alive for it’s the skin one stole long ago. Let one lose grasp on hope, let one forget the reason to live. Let that emptied skull become mine solely to wear as a crown of my victory. Let the weakness in me die.“

A low grumble formed by his quickly moving lips, so chapped they revealed the glistening flow of his vessels, scratched the cave’s walls covered in ancient symbols and incantations revealed to incoming Golden Wind Viper in the torchlight.

Turning right and left, not only was the viper shaking like a leaf. His heart skipped a beat as well. An empty stare of a single bulged eye of a young snake clutching a bridle in his left hand, which had two fingers bent into an unnatural way, was piercing the gang leader’s back since he’d walked in. It took him a second to realise that the head wasn’t attached to the body. Instead it had been pierced on a stake. What was left of him, the guts, the bladder or the lungs, hovered above the rest. The other socket, though eyeless, wasn’t left a yawning hole. Instead, just like the torn open trunk, it was stuffed with fur-like hair and talismanic scripts of a charcoal colour.

With a slack jaw, the viper backed away. His movement attracted the flies and they flew from the corpse right to him. Tripping over his own legs, Golden Wind threw away the torch in order to catch himself from hitting his head on the slippery ground. The thunk of the falling torch filled up the space.

The stranger clutched his sore temples, the cool golden metal electrified the rough pads, though it wasn’t the sound that made his veins pulse with pain as the light finally devoured his dark silhouette. Although his senses were strangely dulled like a cleaver which a butcher forgot about decades ago, he sensed a terror coming from the snake, even if Golden Wind wore his sly mask.

“Sir, I came to inspect whether everything’s alright. Is your head better?“

The macaque’s triangular nose wrinkled, the face markings created black pools and their ink clenched around his big eyes, covering them completely. His head still ached from the fall when a sudden stang in his right thigh and knee made him lose balance. Worse, his torso burnt as if an unwanted touch from his brief daydream still lingered. An urge to snap at the gang leader built up. He, however, fought it off. He knew better.

“You didn’t find him, did you? Nor you darned sister you’ve claimed to inform so well.“

“That hawk arrived there for sure, sir! After all, it returned safely with a reply. I know my sister’s handwriting very well,“ Golden Wind’s long tongue came out and his bald head retracted as he carefully hissed out the excuse,“Just be more patient-“

Although the snake couldn’t see it well, the macaque’s brown fur bristled up as the howling wind picked up. The monkey devil straightened up and finally turned around. Still, in the fading torchlight, Golden Wind spotted only the imp’s wet chin glistening with a mixture of cinder and saliva. “I’ve been patient enough, Golden Wind Viper. What about your men, though?“ the macaque began unnaturally calmly and went to make circles around the other demon. The rounds got gradually smaller.

“Hungry. Lost. Injured from your hideout’s collapse. Neither did the troop with your right hand return from the city. Now, my little brother escaped too. What do you think? Are they patient enough when the enemy’s got the upper hand?“ At last, the nameless one stopped and looked directly into the snake fiend’s narrow eyes.

The fiend choked on his words. Truly, the remaining viper demons were the ones who executed the scout. He shivered upon recalling the recent incident. The macaque’s promenading and rousing the men with these very same questions. Even though his stature was scrawny, his voice, a hoarse and mighty thunder-like roar, sealed the scout’s fate. His comrades, those he’d once seen as friends, tore him apart while he screamed and cried and cursed. Golden Wind Viper remained silent. Even when the viper’s ruby blood spattered his clothes and eyes. Not that his protests would calm down the raging crowd.

But there was something else that made the exiled soldier squirm. 

For the first time, he saw the demon without his cowl. The face was significantly less scarred than his own. A single elongated slit by the left eyebrow was nothing in comparison to a whole missing cheek. Nonetheless, it was repulsive with deep wrinkles from the frequent snarls. The face bore two hellish pupils and amber irises wrathfully glowing back at Golden Wind. Tips of three pairs of pointy ears, which were sticking from the sides of the head, reminded of a broken crown. A belonging of a fallen king who might have lost but still heard everything that the past, the present and the future whispered to him.

Golden Wind swore he recognised the grotesquely horrifying picture displayed in front of him. The shock didn’t allow him to recall any further about the origin of his suspicion.

The longer the macaque was staring him down, the more the snake wanted to run away. Yet the promise of infinite riches and immortality blinded him enough to ignore the stranger’s boiling malice. “But sir, you haven’t been feeling well. The nightmares, your leg. Don’t you need to be prepared for the attack?“

“I do,“ realising the viper saw him unmasked, the macaque hurried to put on his cloak, which was hanging on a mildly curved stalagmite at the back of the cave. Covered from head to toe, he walked to the centre towards a set of alchemical flasks stationed over a not so big bonfire. Even that was surrounded by numerous paper scripts.

A fraction of an oozing liquid he kept was finally done. He mixed the cursed blood with the viper’s bile and venom. It spluttered. Its angry sounds were long and thin as if the viper was hissing even in death. Soon, it calmed down and the monkey was allowed to pour the poison into a gourd. He minimised the vessel and stored it inside his ear without batting an eye.

“The time’s running, though. He can’t keep getting away with his crime against us… me…,“ he murmured before he added in a stronger voice,“I’m tired of playing on a cat and mouse with Her Majesty’s captain. I’ve heard more than enough of his men’s footsteps in the distance. That bothersome swarm of mosquitos’s an insult to a true fighter. I doubt anyone from under the captain’s command is competent enough to hold a weapon.“

Golden Wind was prepared to maliciously grin but he cut off himself when the imp turned to face him wearing an expression as hard as a stone,“The former members included.“

A cudgel as tiny as a needle tickled the inside of the macaque’s ear just like the thrill of the hunt tingling his palms. Fingers with black claws fluttered in the mild breeze. The air from the upper hills brought some freshness inside the humid cave in the middle of a bog. It was a pleasant change, even if short-lived, as the algae in the river’s dead arm stank terribly, making the guts twist and the mouth fill-up with a bitter taste of digestive juices. The macaque twisted his face. Everything about the place was the exact opposite of Mount Huaguo and yet it was so similar to his birthplace. Or was he even born there? An image of the location was getting blurrier each day. “Maybe,“ he tried to figure out his bizarre condition,“this mystical connection’s finally wearing off? Or is it even a connection?“

“Viper.“

“Yes, sir?“

“Leave some men behind. They shall march out according to the original plan. You and the rest are going with me,“ the macaque wiped his chin and airily tossed the cloth on the snake demon who listened attentively. Closing the distance between himself and the entrance, he covered his eyes from the sudden contrast of the daylight. No smirk followed his gaze. Instead, his expression remained stern, tough to read, gloomy almost. Looking up he noticed a hole in between the treetops. Heavy clouds covered the golden sky wheel. A heavy rain attacked the valley.

****

Márgerdra stretched in the rosewood armchair she’d pushed towards the mildly open window. The cool breeze blew and lifted the upper corners of the paper lying under her ink orange brush. Equally, it blew into her hair, she’d tied in a loose ponytail, as the demoness leaned against the windowsill cross-armed. Her light nightgown and the loose trousers underneath were no exception to the weather condition the downpour brought. Yet the witch didn’t complain. Her mind was elsewhere, anyway.

Scanning the sight below like a hawk, the she-wolf spotted the river. Its flow was disrupted by the constant drumming of great and numerous raindrops. The source of life would have easily turned into a deadly cradle if it weren’t for the elevated shore which kept the inhabitants safe. Shivers ran down her spine underneath the damp clothes. She’d seen the raging seas. Their tides mirrored in those grey waves. Despite the river’s lack of a salty stench, Márgerdra didn’t wish to be left at the mercy of its depth from which tall and needle-sharp rocks covered in algae were sticking out. Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the city so charmful in spite of its preserving sleepiness. The humidity of the place combined with the remaining bits of the night’s coolness created a tender satin veil of fog above the roofs where the last flames throbbed inside the golden-red lanterns. Although the sight petrified her at first, the sound of the river oddly calmed the witch down while she observed the streets and the quarters.

The marketplace didn’t have any customers so far, but it wasn’t completely abandoned. There were always a few vendors or performers dedicated enough to their craft who marched out of their warm homes and presented their offers.

Again, her attention drifted back to the river. Unable to escape the hectic swarm of mixed feelings, she began to notice slight changes on the surface. Colours and shades began to form figures and faces. One in particular appeared numerous times.

The petite young woman with a glazing look on her face was dressed in a flowy wedding gown from brocade, her hair hidden under a large crown with peonies and peacocks. She finally sat hand-in-hand with her groom. In a distant land under a foreign roof, she appeared to be a thorn in the eyes of the guests.

The wind picked up again. Márgerdra’s long sleeves covered the filled note. It grasped the chance and slid underneath and bit her on the chest and delicate shoulders. The cold wasn’t a primary distraction, however. It was the thin streak of blood that trickled from her nostril. One rapid movement of her sleeve and it was forever gone, unlike the fair headache lingering for a few more moments.

While grasping onto the thoughts of the future, her hand seemingly moved on its own. Dipping the brush’s tip into an ink, her stiff limb wrote a new set of characters.

The sheets behind her rustled forcing her to turn. Immediately, her cheeks, a colour of jasmine flowers lately gifted with a golden hew by the sun, regained the rosy colour.

Wukong had rolled on the other side, now facing the witch. He seemed oddly peaceful as he curled on the bed and clutched his tail with both hands. After his troubles with trying to fall asleep, Márgerdra wasn’t surprised at all he wasn’t up already. By the hour of the rat, his twitchy movements and upset fumes had stopped at last and his body hadn’t moved since.

Letting him rest a bit longer, she averted her gaze. The demoness murmured under her nose.

“Little tiger, what to do? How can I leave you to your fate, my little one? Especially now that we’re still in the clutch of the demons that would feast on you. Not that humans are any better,“ Márgerdra squirmed upon the terrible idea. The Wolf Witch gazed towards the horizon, then her head turned as the woman followed the river running through the hills and mountains. “Spring Guardian Beast,“ she read the shaky characters she’d written. Only then did the witch pull out the flask she’d once ordered Bajie to take from the queen’s bedroom. 

“If the queen saw the creature herself, I may do so through her eyes once again. But,“ she paused; there was no potion to create a magical circle,“Not even that would help. I’d need more. Talismans, incense, a rite, a magical spring…“

The temptation was tantalising. Her fingers shook. Her foot in a fine slipper didn't seem to stop tapping the floor any soon. Just a single peek would be enough. All she needs is to focus.

The she-wolf shrugged.

“It would be worth a try. In the past. I’m smarter than that. There must be other way,“ the witch settled on her decision upon watching the grunting monkey.

He abruptly exhaled from his sleep.

Márgerdra quickly hid the flask under her gown. Fortunately, it was a nuisance alarm. Collecting herself once more, the advisor walked over and carefully slid a blanket over the monkey demon, her caress settling down on his forearm.

The Thunder God let out a mighty roar somewhere in the distance. Knowing well he wasn’t going to wake up any soon, she slipped out of the bedroom.

In the dim hallway, while closing the door, the Wolf Witch was thrown off balance when a hand lightly tapped on her shoulder blade.

“Márgerdra?“ Mei whispered,“Why are you up at this hour? Something happened?“

Márgerdra covered her mouth to silence herself upon witnessing the princess dressed in an orange nightgown appear behind like a ghost,“No, sweetie. Everything’s fine. I thought the thounder might have frightened you…“

“Well…it did. That’s why I’m going to the boys’ room, just in case. I mean I’m much less scared by it than before,“ the princess gulped when another loud crack rolled down the place.

“Don’t you wish to join us?“

“You’re taking care of the Great Sage.“ They began to move down the long dreary hallway devoid of any other living being. Even the fantastical guardians depicted on the walls with their keen eyes never seem to have lost the mystical spark of life in this sort of weather. “That takes enough of your time.“

“It’s nothing serious.“

“Still, it’s better if he gets to rest properly. Otherwise he won’t be able to win the tournament. Or to keep a good eye on me when we train.“

Clearing her throat, Márgerdra cocked an eyebrow,“Young lady, what sort of an idea do you have in mind?“

“You witnessed the attack. It’s about time that I better learn how to fight. Who else to ask for help if not the seasoned martial artists?“ Mei beamed, her wide smile complementing her shining black eyes. As if it weren’t enough, the younger woman tilted her head like a puppy and clasped her hands,“Pretty please!“

The witch returned to her previous concern of Mei’s life in the palace.

She chuckled once they reached their destination, a large door from a black wood with a red tint. “Fine. But you will pay attention to everything that's going to be explained.“

“Sure thing!“ Mei leapt out and threw herself on Márgerdra. “Thank you, jiejie.“

The taller woman broke their hug and leaned over to playfully pinch the princess’ cheek,“No problem, meimei.“ Before Mei had any chance to raise another question, Márgerdra slowly slid the door open and led her inside right to Sanzang’s bed.

The Tripitaka was lying on his right side. His lanky hand supported the head instead of the white ceramic pillow he unintentionally broke at night. A few snowy pieces which escaped his attention when being swept away were glistening under the furniture. They watched the incoming women, who trod like mice.

“Venerable Master, my apologies for disrupting you. May I humbly ask for your permission to allow Her Highness sleep here till the sunrise? The thunderstorm doesn’t allow her to rest by herself and she does not wish to bother me and your eldest disciple given his recent state.“

“Lady Wolf Witch,“ Sanzang blinked rapidly after suddenly waking up. “Of course. There’s no problem with that,“ he shoved aside to make more room for the woman.

Mei thanked the monk many times before she hopped on the mattress next to him and drifted off. The blonde was prepared to bid a farewell when the young man asked,“Lady Wolf Witch? May I ask how my disciple’s doing? Does he feel better?“

“It should go without further saying that the Great Sage heals fast. It’s mostly his restless nature that’s suffering the most as he’s not capable of diving into anything… questionable.“

“I see,“ the man lightheartedly chuckled,“No shenanigans is the worst of punishments for him. It should be no surprise. Even when he’s gone such a distance from who he used to be.“

Although she originally didn’t plan on spending too much time there, the advisor found a seat and listened further. “Well, we all did. I am not talking about our initial meeting. We all change during our lives.“

“I cannot possibly talk back on this. Life's a stream of water, after all. Even a rock doesn’t dare to stagnate as it crumbles over the years until it becomes the finest sand.“

“Excelently said, Venerable Master.“ Pinching her chin, Márgerdra decided to proceed with something that had been biting her mind from the very beginning,“How did you and the Great Sage come to tolerate and respect each other? I sense the bond between you is strong.“

“Now, I can see from who Her Highness gets her curiosity,“ Sanzang’s large eyes shone brighter than the lighting which cut the grey sky upon the city. Unlike the firebolt, there was no treacherous spark to it. His delicate palm grabbed onto the blanket and slid it over the heiress when she shrugged upon hearing tremendous sound.

Márgerdra didn’t hesitate. It took her one jump and her hand soothingly covered Mei’s to console her. Fortunately, the princess didn’t wake up. “It’s nothing but an observation, Venerable Tripitaka. You two are polar opposites. I’m sure it must’ve been a lot of work to tame his short temper,“ she added, amused, not noticing that Sanzang’s smile froze at first.

The monk gazed past the woman’s shoulder and replied in a hushed voice,“Yes, his temper.“ On the empty wall, another flash drew terrible images. Similarly to the princess, he too trembled. Yet his fear rooted somewhere entirely else.

He could have sworn he felt the weight and the cold of the cudgel falling onto his skull. But nothing happened. Instead of the monk spitting out his blood, the furred devil rolled on the ground as his skull pulsated and the headband tightened around his forehead. The golden metal cut through the skin like a blade. It tore the muscles like a bear tears through a mountain goat. It shattered the skull like the mountain that had crushed Wukong’s bones five hundred years ago. The monk couldn’t bear the thought of harming anyone. Yet now he couldn’t stop reciting the mantra. Not even when the fiend pleaded with his sobs breaking through the screams. What was more, he himself, a monk, a saint, Golden Cicada, felt the need to proceed. To make the evil demon feel the terror he brought upon the others. An eye for an eye.

Are all the demons inherently evil, actually? Do they know nothing else but murder? Pillaging? Cannibalism?

Yet, was the Tang Emperor any different? Even he and his ancestors tasted the human flesh and led the wars though they were no demons. What did the Tang monk do then? 

What has he done to the loyal monkey? The monkey that murdered his own, the demon who carried the red of his kind in order to appease the monk and to avoid further punishment. The path to enlightenment and sutras was paved by it.

Still, the young man led his notes and vilified the fiend in fear. Until their blind eyes, the monk’s and the monkey’s, finally began to see.

Who’s the monster and who’s the man? The one with fiery eyes and heart of stone? The one who openly admits to arrogance and violence? Or the one who hides behind the prayers of false innocence like a coward? The one who went against his brother’s orders?

Who is the Death? The executioner? Or the judge?

“Venerable Tripitaka, if you don’t mind I shall return back to my chambers. Once again, thank you for keeping Her Highness safe and for guiding us all,“ the blonde picked herself up when the man remained silent. Before she vanished, she gathered her courage and approached the monk’s bed, leaning down with the softest and kindest smile Sanzang had ever witnessed. Her fair brows gently arched over the bright gaze. “Venerable Master, my apologies for I don’t want to disrespect you. Yet I am of the opinion that I have to be as honest as I can.“

“Please, Lady Wolf Witch, do not concern yourself with formalities. The heart of a man is made of a beating flesh to dance with the rest, not carved of wood so it would burn with every slip of a tongue.“ Oddly, Sanzang realised the words had never come out of him this easily than now that he was in the presence of the princess and the witch. “Suit yourself.“

“I must admit,“ Márgerdra stroked Mei’s head at first but immediately patted the bewildered man,“that you and your disciples are the bravest and the kindest people out there, young man. Keep that in mind, my boy. Otherwise this little tiger shall write it down for you. See you soon.“

****

Once she returned, the woman went directly back to her previous post by the window. Thinking she could steal a few additional moments of peace for herself, Márgerdra couldn’t be more wrong.

“Looks like I was right when saying you’re gonna do pretty well. I guess I could do pretty good as a fortune-teller. Anyway, are you hungry?“ the Monkey King cackled from behind.

As it became a small custom, Márgerdra yelped and turned in her seat only to find smug Wukong sprawled on the hard mattress. The monkey man winked at her playfully. He was munching on a peach undoubtedly taken from the small heap of fruit stationed on the low table between him and the witch. The same rich orange juice which marked the corner of her paper was now dripping on the demon’s plain yellow shirt. Unlike the she-wolf, the monkey didn’t seem to mind either of the smudges.

“Nah, I won’t ever pass on the chance to give you a scare.“

“Darling,“ she returned to her private task,“next time try not to ruin tha paper, please. Is your leg doing any better? Did you feel any pain at night or when promenading around? Because I remember specifically advising you not to outdo yourself.“

“Always so polite and caring. Though this sounds more like a command,“ he wiped his lips. “Kinda. The knee aches a bit when I turn. Other than that all’s fine. Thanks to those switches between cold and hot wet packs, I suspect,“ he motioned to his bandaged leg.

They both minded their business until something struck Wukong again. He couldn’t wait any longer and stood up. Limping over, he nearly tripped on the foot of the low table.

Although he recovered quickly, Márgerdra jumped to his help anyway. Tenderly supporting him, she made him sit in her armchair.

“Careful there, you silly monkey.“

“What an easy-going stance. Say, did I contribute to it?“

“No. You just didn’t let me sleep and I have zero energy to pull your hair out.“

At first, Wukong took the answer easily. Soon, when it all settled down and he noticed she was dead serious, he grew disappointed. His letdown took away the shine from his gaze no matter how hard he forced the easy-going attitude. “My utter apologies, I had no such intentions. May I set this right in any way?“

“Just shush yourself for a moment, please.“

The witch began tidying up the space. Bending over to pick up the pair of dirty trousers, she cast a glimpse only to find Wukong glancing over the splendid, though gloomy, view. His head was reclining on his hand, the nose twitched as he deeply inhaled the moist air. Once in a while, he reread the practised lines on the paper.

Her whole face crinkled before she softly voiced her issue,“Yeah, I think I am hungry. Could I…have a bite?“

“I don’t know. Could you?“ He did his best to sound sour, but she’d come to know him too well. Wukong finally stopped grooming his tail. It wrapped around the second armchair and dragged it to the window. “Here. Enjoy,“ he threw her the pulpiest peach from the bowl. In less than a second, his legs spread wide apart as the monkey disciple leaned back.

Sitting down, Márgerdra bit into the fruit. In a matter of seconds, her eyes widened, her hair stood up. Even her voice made a light thrill as if the wolf demoness had transformed into a blackbird.

Letting her enjoy the sweet taste for a few moments, Wukong hesitantly started,“I’m glad you remembered our agreement, Márgerdra. Honestly, I had a feeling you’d stay true to your word no matter what. Don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about.“

“A few people made me think.“

“Only people?“

“A certain cocky demon with loads of charm, too. I should pull my wits more often instead of endangering myself.“

“Anything else you’d like to add? Something you wanna say but fear it may sound dumb?“

“Perhaps.“

“I’m all ears, blondie,“ the Monkey King tilted his head.

The Wolf Witch gave in rather easily to his pleasant surprise,“I’m tired of pitying myself. I’m a big girl after all.“

Sun Wukong stretched out for the last velvety fruit left in the white bowl. Faithful to his lively temper, he bumped into Márgerdra’s half-eaten peach,“Cheers to that, then, Lady Wolf Witch.“

Márgerdra finally laughed, a heartfelt sound travelled from Wukong’s head to his toes. “Cheers, Handsome Monkey King.“

In silence, they enjoyed both, the rain which progressively turned into a drizzle and the delightful company. The sky eventually cleared up and a colourful rainbow appeared for a brief moment over the horizon. It vanished without a trace sooner than they hoped for. The allure, however, remained breathing and alive.

The ghostly thrushes, nowhere to be seen, chirped.

Wukong shifted but Márgerdra gently placed her index on his lips. She pulled away as quickly as she’d drawn closer and returned to admire the view in front of her. Yet Wukong’s wrinkles went on to straighten up as he offered her a tender glance.

Suddenly, the door swung open and in the doorframe, a massive boar-like figure in a short coat appeared. Bajie’s booming voice hit the walls of their bedroom, his hooves clinked against the floor even through the horse-skin boots he wore, showing he didn’t care whether he woke up anyone. “I wish you a lovely morning! Lady Márgerdra, you look stunning today! Sorry, but the girl’s chirping like a bird again. She can’t stop asking when we’re heading out. Prepared?“

****

Mei, though clumsy at first, quickly made progress after her many attempts. Like her advisor, the princess switched her usual corset-like garment for clothes more similar to the garments of the disciples - a plain long tunic with side slits and loose trousers tied with strings under the knees. Only the scarlet ribbons keeping their hair in two buns differentiated them from the monks.

Watching them with a wary eye from afar was the Monkey King. The Eight Rules, who sat beside on the creaky bench in the corner of the hall and whose poor attempt at hiding his giggling behind the calloused palm, vexed the Great Sage. Apart from the occasional grunt, they kept themselves so quiet they nearly blended with the dull background.

Finally, Mei grasped and striked the dagger in a proper way - straightforward and precisely like a wild bee.

“Can we go for another position? Or something rougher? Or do you need a break?“

“Not at all, jiejie,“ Mei panted and took a right lead stance. The moist air and high temperature didn’t help at all during the warm-up. “Let’s go.“

“The other side this time, Your Highness?“ Márgerdra joked and positioned herself in front of Mei in a mirrored fashion.

“Sorry…I always forget about the rule.“

As Mei started shifting to switch the sides, Márgerdra quickly jumped in to stop her,“No, sweetie, that’s fine. No pressure about that. Whatever’s more beneficial and natural to you, okay? We’re alone here.“

“Well,“ the witch looked over her shoulder,“ almost alone. Besides, it’s quite useful when you become an ambidextrous fighter.“

“Something your jiejie taught you?“

“Perhaps,“ Márgerdra winked.

The advisor’s encouragement had a strong impact on the Tiger Princess who gladly went back. Yet, Márgerdra noticed the princess possessed stranded thoughts.

“Mei, I’m here. Cross your arms. We’re going to try the block, okay?“

“How’s he?“

“That was a really nice one! Come on. Arms up. We’ll do it one more time.“

Mei did as she was told to and awaited Márgerdra’s steel-like leg. This time, the princess didn’t attempt to hide her impatience creeping its way to the surface. “That wasn’t an answer to my question.“

“He’ll win. Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be at the Brocade Lantern soon, I promise you that.“

“I didn’t mean that,“ Mei’s almond eyes shone like that of a cat when Márgerdra tried to follow,“It looks like you two can finally talk like two normal people.“

The witch laughed even louder when Mei protested. Her short breaths interrupted her complaints during the grappling. “Are you sporting a sharp tongue, too?“

“Am I not from the Great Tiger Kingdom? I better have it like a beast’s claws.“

“You’re right. You’re neither a cub anymore,“ Márgerdra sighed, taking a meaningful look at the princess,“You’ve grown into a real tigress.“

“Thanks to you, my fiercely loyal wolven advisor,“ Mei bowed her head, unaware her jest froze Márgerdra’s blood.

“Blondie! Are you for real?! Blathers instead of teaching the martial arts?“

The rough voice pitched as Wukong snapped at them. His tail rhythmically slammed the bench. Bajie had no other option than to let out a shriek once the impact nearly broke the half-rotten wood.

Nerves from steel didn’t let Márgerdra react in the same manner. “You’re also talking now.“

“I’ve got a good reason for that,“ he stood up and made his way forward. The demon’s walk wasn’t energetic but at least he wasn’t waddling anymore. “What sort of basics is this?“

“One that I was taught in my youth.“

“Yeah, I noticed it must be an ancient technique.“

Márgerdra took a deep breath to cool down. “Excuse me? Are you implying something?“

Paying her a little more attention than he would to a fly, the Monkey King closed the yawning distance.

His clenched fist darted into Mei’s face.

The princess’ head dodged at the last second. The rest followed as the wave of contractions affected each part of the body. “Are you mad? That would’ve hurt!“

“Then don’t let me hit you.“

“Jiejie!!!“

The monkey’s kicks nearly landed on her shoulders. Mei ducked down as his next attacks arrived. Still, having no way of escaping she locked her forearms in a crossing manner above her head. The limbs collided. Her palms quickly found the exact position. Her fingers interlocked. Those silky ribbons transformed into shackles. Wukong’s leg remained imprisoned.

“She’s pretty good! Seems like your lessons weren’t a total waste of time! The kid just needed a bit of motivation!“ His wild laughter made even the dead stone of the walls shiver. Despite that, Mei wasn’t able to hide the joyous giggling from the action.

Even though the princess caught his leg just in time, she didn’t count with Wukong using it to his advantage. He tightened the muscles and started pushing the leg down.

“You madman! Do you intend to hurt both of you?!“ Márgerdra almost knocked Bajie to the ground in the process while rushed towards the carefree monkey demon. “Put that leg down immediately!“

“Make me, blondie.“ Wukong smirked as he watched Mei’s forehead drench in sweat. He flung his arm as if there was a swarm of invisible mosquitoes around. Unknowingly, he created a perfect target for the witch.

The tattered leather tightly encircled him. All the witch needed was to yank. The Great Sage immediately drew from the princess.

“Stop messing around.“

“Bossing me around again?“ Wukong played with the short loose end of the whip.

“Did you miss that?“

“What a stone-cold tone! If I did? What if I’d like some more of that kind of attention?“

“You sure you want to play with fire?“

“Blondie,“ thousands of sparks flew from the Great Sage’s irises, meanwhile red tongues of flame spurted out from the pupils,“I am the fire.“ He grinned and repeated the witch’s earlier action.

Although she didn’t expect it, Márgerdra didn’t intend to grant him the advantage of surprise easily. As she was stumbling forward, the agile demoness managed to regain the balance for a short moment. It was enough, however. She leapt forward, the monkey man’s leg swishing underneath, touching the empty space instead of the advisor. Appearing behind Wukong, Márgerdra kicked him in between the shoulder blades.

“Careful, I may need to cool you down,“ the Wolf Witch swung her weapon. Its tip obeyed - it easily slipped out from among Wukong’s fingers and coiled up just like the rest of it.

While she was tossing it to Mei, the Monkey King let out his order,“Daizi, keep a close look on us. You’re gonna be much needed. Prepared, blondie? A master of the craft sparing a fellow master. What do you reckon?“

“An art against another art? En garde, my dear.“

They leapt at the same time with equal determination. The wind of the distant Taihang Mountains wasn’t as swift as they, nor was it as sharp with its treacherous thrusts in comparison with dozens of fists and knocks and kicks those two were throwing.

The imp grabbed the witch’s wrist. Instead of inflicting a punch, his elbow collided with the woman’s jaw twice - for the first time when he drew her near and for the second when Wukong distanced himself as quickly as he could have. Márgerdra’s eyes watered. Forced by the burning pain, she had to bend over, one of her arms creating a weak support on the thigh for the torso. A massive bruise began to form by the side of her mouth. For a few heartbeats she struggled to catch her breath. Then, she gritted her teeth and forced a chuckle,“Reconstructing my visage again?“

“Sorry, dear, these hands are rated E for everyone.“

“So are my legs.“

Without further hesitation the Wolf Witch lunged. At first, the Monkey King expected her kick to target his shin or ankle in hopes to get him rid of his balance. At the last moment, the advisor redirected her foot.

Wukong grumbled. He almost fainted. The dull pain struck him right away. There was an endless ringing in his left ear. It didn’t take long for him to solidify his stance as he curled his toes.

“That…was pretty good, blondie. You’ve always been a tough player.“

Wukong brought his feet up and down, slowly stumbling forward, grunting, irregular pants following each step. His body once twitched to the left, the other time to the right. Nevertheless, he was approaching the woman.

“Wukong, stop the act, will you? Wukong…?“ her voice gradually lost its sternness. “Hey, are you alright? Wukong, answer me already!“

The Great Sage charged at the Wolf Witch who had no way of escape. Although she deflected his incoming attacks, Sun Wukong only needed a tiny distraction to avert her attention. Once her jaw remained uncovered for a split second, he struck for the last time. He didn’t kick, he didn’t punch. He only tapped the fresh injury with his long tail.

Márgerdra’s sharp inhale stuck in her throat. She wasn’t able to suppress the reflex on time. Now, she awaited for the hard fall after the trickster had swept her legs.

Her torso and limbs did meet the coolness of the fighting ground eventually. Yet she found the back of her head in the embrace of a hand. The man with a charming youthful spark smiled and whispered so only the two of them knew,“So when are we meeting for the private language lesson?“

“Oh my,“ Márgerdra shook her head, though she didn’t fight the entertainment,“killing two birds with one stone, are you?“

Wukong simply winked and positioned himself in Márgerdra’s lap in a way he wouldn't crush her inner organs. Although gentle at first sight, his right was pinning Márgerdra’s left wrist to the ground like a shackle. The same was done to her other hand but instead of his iron-like arm Wukong used his tail.

“I think it’s clear. Big Brother, you’re the winner!“

“What a spectacle! Too bad it was so short.“

Mei whoops blew into the Tang monk and the Friar Sand who entered the place with cheerful greetings. Soon, everybody discovered the reason behind their uplifted spirit.

“Is that true?!“ the four cried out, their excitement filling up the moist place.

“A monk honest in his heart must not think of a lie, let alone tell it.“

The more they asked, eager to dig out more details, the Tripitaka was left a single response,“My apologies, me and Ol’ Sha were left with as many questions as you have. We can only go and attend the city’s pre celebration tonight. We shall meet him there.“

“And if we don’t find him,“ Ol’ Sha followed, the anticipation creeped among his bubbling words,“he finds us for sure.“

****

His willpower has been tested many times. But now it was quite a different sort of a dance for the Dragon Prince. Praying that the handmaiden with a beauty mark wasn’t hot on his heels anymore, he slowed down, catching his breath while leaning against a column of red wood. He was still getting used to walking on two legs instead of four. At first, he was joyous. He had a chance to switch his form but soon he regretted it while lamenting his aching legs and spine. The storm outside surely added to the atmosphere of his current poor condition. The son of the Dragon King, the one who’d devoured the monk’s horse prior to joining the pilgrimage,  was now being hunted by a demoness even shorter than his Big Brother. Yet her eerie needle-like gaze pierced Ao Lie through and through.

“There you are, musician!“ Speaking of the devil, the handmaiden shot out from the hallway in front of Lie. Right where the prince intended to run.

Just like earlier, when he’d first sighted her in the sumptuous throne room by the queen’s side, the way she hissed the sentence made Lie’s skin crawl all over his body. Good thing he’d managed to slither the small note in Ol’ Sha’s pocket when the disciple was passing by once the audience ended. The sooner he gets together with the rest of the Pilgrims, the better. No, the greater.

“By Buddha, how did you get there?“ he murmured under his breath and tried not to grip on his ears while hearing the squeal.

“What are you looking at? Do you have a problem with me? Do you have any idea who I am?“

“Well certainly no saint. Or a solid singer either, I bet my neck.“

“Another sharp tongue? Like that stupid girl with her sister wasn't enough. But for your information, I am Miss Yawen, Her Majesty’s advisor, right hand and handmaiden.“

“So just a rat.“

“What was it?“ Yawen’s neck elongated until Lie felt her nose pressing against his. The inhuman proportion would have made him laugh. He had to catch himself, though. After all, he himself wouldn’t be much different in his dragon form. Besides, was she sniffing him? Did her hand slithered around his waist?

He moved briskly like there was a swarm of cockroaches climbing onto him.

“Nothing, Miss Yawen. I’m sorry but I need to go. I’m sure the rest’s waiting for me to rehearse. After all, Her Majesty was more than happy to welcome the head performer once again. I’m sure you need not to worry about the music being that of a low quality. Now if you excuse me…“ Lie started slipping through the small space between the demoness and the column.

“You better play nice on that erhu of yours at the city parade. Otherwise, Her Majesty’s beloved pet shall smash your skull on the spot. You see, her ears are very sensitive. One note off and you’re done. For good.“

There was an uncomfortable air around her which he couldn’t put his finger on. The snake demons, just like the animals which they derived from, were naturally cold-blooded, one of the few details that made them differ from the dragons. But this viper, she had something more sinister. Not malice, but ambition even though a shallow one.

Knowing those were only his personal guesses he vanished behind a corner, thankful that a bunch of friendly soldiers showed up and escorted him to the travelling troupe of musicians.

“There goes the horse boy. It looks like the whole family’s now together, gege.“

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51

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List of chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Epilogue

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 15

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While  Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a  client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a  sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon  (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Leo made sure he was punctual and on his best behavior. Damián had picked out a nice shirt for him to wear and begged him to keep it tidy. It was like Leo was still a child in Damián’s mind. Like he was sure Leo hadn’t matured past seven when he would try wrangling worms out of the mud while in his church clothes.

It could have been that Damián was nervous that Leo was going to make a heterosexual spectacle of himself. Leo could see the way Damián was almost holding his breath before he left the apartment. It was the classic “straight people are around” rigidity. Leo saw it often when Damián tucked a part of himself away when they left some bubble of safety Leo couldn’t see.

Leo considered asking Damián if he should stay away from the lecture, if it was best if he didn’t try to force himself in, but then Damián told him he was happy he was going. That maybe in the future, they could go to stuff like that together. There was no shortage of queer events in the city. When they both had the time, Damián had said fixing Leo’s collar, they should think about the next one to go to together.

Leo showed up 15 minutes before the lecture was set to start, waited patiently in the back of the lecture hall until Eve shuffled in, and found a seat with her in the middle of the audience.

He looked around the lecture hall. It was a sea of multi-colored hair cut short or grown long. Eve wasn’t the only one with an undercut, and she wasn’t the only one rocking an academic goth look—large black sweaters and Doc Martens were all over the place.

In the corner of the room, the guest was speaking to some faculty member Leo had seen a few times around campus.

“Who is this woman?” Leo asked.

“You didn’t look her up?” Eve asked, a bit of judgment in her voice. “Jo Sheryl?”

“I asked my brother, and he didn’t know, and that was the extent of my research.”

He should have put forth a little more effort, but he had thought if he knew everything about her, the lecture would be underwhelming. He didn’t want spoilers. If she had any great anecdotes, Leo wanted to hear them from her in person.

He also might have neglected to look her up in favor of working on grad school applications. He had finally sucked it up and applied to the out-of-state schools he had been looking at. Michigan had a well-respected, competitive applied math program, and Michigan wasn’t too terribly far away. It was cheaper than living in New York, too.

There were also programs in Connecticut and Massachusetts. 

Leo submitted the applications when Damián was gone on a date with his new, weird client. It was the only way to distract himself when Damián had texted him to say he’d be out a little later than planned.

“Yeah, well, Damián is a little older than her target audience,” Eve said. “He probably hasn’t seen her stuff because’s a guy in his 30s.”

“Damián isn’t all that old.”

Wait.

What?

Leo turned in his seat, infuriatingly small for him. All the seats on campus felt like they were made for someone three inches shorter than him. Complaining about how his legs were cramped in the small space between him and the seat in front of him only got him eye-rolls from people who didn’t seem to realize that while being tall was nice, there was such a thing as being too tall.

“How do you know Damián?” Leo asked.

“He didn’t tell you?” Eve said it so easily. “We’re in a gay book club together. I saw him last night, and we connected the dots between you and me and him.”

“Oh, yeah, his book club.”

“I actually run it.”

“No shit.”

“And my brother is—well, he’s been hanging out with Damián. They’re doing a whole thing together.”

Was he maybe the person Damián had been planning a night with at the end of the month? Was Eve’s brother the guy Leo stewed over? Eve probably shouldn’t have been giving up so much information about Damián’s clients and appointments. Leo had always held that information close to his chest.

“Anyway,” Eve said. “Jo Sheryl wrote a graphic novel. It was called Stories from a True-to-Life Dyke. It’s about lesbians in college.”

“That’s all it’s about?”

“Obviously there’s a plot. There’s Minnie, this freshman, and it’s all about her coming to terms with her sexuality and falling in love with this cool dyke.”

“Is that an okay word to say?”

“What? Dyke?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay for me to say, and it’s how the character describes herself. But if you’re asking if you can use it, then no. You probably shouldn’t.”

“Okay. I wasn’t planning on using it, by the way. I just wanted to know what the status was. I know there’s other words, and I’m trying to keep on top of the list.”

“What, a slur list?” Eve gave him a curious look and shook her head. “You’re a funny ally.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“I know. I’m just saying. You’re funny about it.”

Leo wasn’t trying to be funny. He was trying really hard. If he was a better ally, if he understood things better, then maybe he could return to Damián with some of it and make up for some of what their family had done to him. If Leo could be on top of all the struggles and hot topics, then he wouldn’t have to worry about Damián feeling isolated.

“Being queer isn’t all about the words you can and can’t use,” Eve said.

“I know. I know. I just want to know about things.”

The president of the GSA walked to the podium and leaned into the microphone. Leo had never seen him before. He was a little guy with purple hair. And though the dye job was patchy and growing out with a few fingers of dark roots coming in, Leo thought he looked pretty cool.

Jo Sheryl also looked cool. She had a leather jacket and a men’s button-up top, and her hair was cut very short. Her unplucked eyebrows, the lack of make-up, and the way she held herself was all very masculine. Her hands were shoved in her pockets until she walked up to the podium. When she walked, she did it with purpose. Shoulders held square, chin high.

Leo was very familiar with butch women. He thought they were neat. He admired them on the subway like they were a piece of art. He took everything about every single one of them in.

But seeing Jo stand in front of the room, he felt something stir inside him. Like this was the first time he was actually seeing a butch lesbian for what she was. Beautiful, bold, and so wonderfully not quite one thing or another.

Leo leaned over and whispered, “Is part of being gay looking cool?” He meant it as a friendly joke, but he feared it came off as a serious question.

“Yes, it is,” Eve whispered back with a smug smile.

Jo Sheryl began speaking. Her voice was low. She rocked back and forth on her feet and waved her hand as she ran through notes and a slide show. The lecture hall was silent except for her baritone washing over the waves of seats.

She talked about how she first came up with the idea for her graphic novel and how it seemed to blow up overnight as she was posting it to her blog. The response to it had been overwhelming. With love for Minnie came long-awaited-for acceptance for herself. She had received the positivity she had been seeking for years and also provided it back in turn for those who needed to see themselves in comics.

It was a cycle, she emphasized. When queer people lifted each other up, they lifted themselves up. When queer artists and writers wrote for themselves, they wrote for others and vice versa. The importance of community was never so evident to Jo as it was in the comment section of her comics. Strangers on the internet, all across the country, had made her feel more comfortable in herself than she had felt in a long time.

She was hiding less and less of herself not just to her audience but to the people around her. Though she was out to her family, she hardly ever talked about dating women in front of them. She had straight friends who she knew accepted her but didn’t understand the deeper parts of the LGBT community—the finer details of the history, the ongoing struggles, the little things Jo had to see and cope with every day. With the success of her comic, she started speaking up. Started showing herself more and more, no longer fearing isolation if they decided that she was being “too much.” There was now a massive community to fall back on.

Leo had never thought about being queer in such a way before. It was just like being Latino. He liked seeing people like him succeed. It felt good. It felt like he was capable of also succeeding—and doing so without having to give up any part of himself.

For a while, after he started college, he didn’t speak a lot of Spanish outside of the apartment. If Damián slipped into it when they were out, Leo stubbornly only responded in English. Damián, equally stubborn, would only respond in Spanish until Leo realized that Damián wasn’t forcing it but was giving Leo permission.

And it wasn’t like there weren’t other people speaking Spanish in New York. Leo heard Spanish all the time.

But there were some spots—the organic food stores Damián sometimes took him to, the clothing stores in the less diverse neighborhoods—where Leo didn’t want white women side-eyeing him or white managers coming up to ask if he needed “help” with anything with a tight smile.

Leo already had it rough in those spots. His complexion was darker than Damián’s, and he was taller and built up a little stockier. He was young enough to be up to no good but old enough to threaten someone, somewhere. Speaking Spanish, even in a place like New York City where people really should have been used to hearing an ever-changing flow of languages, made Leo feel like he was making a spectacle of himself. He could tell when someone turned to look, when people shuffled away while keeping a close eye on them when he and Damián naturally switched between languages.

Damián always handled those moments well. He never stopped speaking that lovely combination of Spanish and English, flowing so easily between the two. And eventually, Leo, as he grew older by a few years, understood why he did it. There was no point in trying to hide that part of them. It came with pain, sure, but it was worse to keep Spanish to the “right” places. It was worse to play by the invisible boundaries other people had drawn for him.

Leo was sure that that must have been how Jo felt when she cut her hair short or when she started shopping in the men’s section. It had to have been hard and came with the fear that was unique to being unapologetically visible, but it must have felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. When she saw other women like herself, when women like her saw her, that would have been well worth it all.

Leo tried thinking about how Damián had to navigate the world being both gay and Latino and if he could only be visible in one direction or another at a time when Leo wasn’t looking.

There were questions after Jo’s lecture. Someone asked if she was going to continue her series. She said she had plans for one more volume and then she would move on to other projects. She had more confidence now to pursue other stories she had been too scared to tell.

She was asked about upcoming artist workshops she was hosting in the city, thoughts about a recent collaboration with a writer, and if she had any advice for other queer artists.

“The one thing I want to tell all queer artists,” Jo said, “is that a lot of people are going to tell you no. Publishers will turn you down. Readers will leave nasty comments around the internet. It will feel like you’re not doing anything right for anyone because everyone has something to complain about. A lot of straight people who are trying to help you will tell you to ‘tone down the gay stuff.’”

There was a wave of laughter. Leo laughed, too, to show support and that he understood that pressure to suppress an identity, to try to be a more tolerable version of yourself for others.

“But,” Jo continued, “you don’t have to listen to any of those people. There’s a whole new world out there online where you can share your work with people who are looking to read it. If everyone else is telling you no, you need to give yourself permission to tell yourself ‘yes.’ And I want everyone here, even if you’re not an artist, to be as authentic to yourself as you can be. Even if—and I know you’re all in college so this might be the case—even if you don’t really know who you are yet. Keep telling yourself that you’re allowed to exist in whatever way you’re happiest. The world deserves to know the real you.”

The room was filled with applause. Leo clapped the loudest out of everyone.

The president announced the questions were over, thanked everyone for attending, and thanked Jo for being their guest. What a way to end things! Leo felt inspired. He was going to go straight home and tell Damián all about Jo Sheryl and how much he had learned from her.

He was going to see every single guest the GSA had through the next semester.

“I think I get it,” Leo said after Jo stepped away for a book signing. “Being queer is like being Latino. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yup. Us marginalized groups have to stick together. And you know, True-to-Life Dyke has a Latina character. She’s not a major character for the first half, but she gets a bigger role in the second volume.”

“Seriously?���

“Yeah. And I have a hunch she’s going to have an even bigger part in the next volume.”

“That’s dope.”

Jo’s books were for sale at a collapsible table with a long line right outside the lecture hall, but Damián didn’t have the money to spend $40 on two graphic novels. He’d have to find them later. Maybe at the queer bookstore Damián went to. Maybe he’d tag along the next time Damián went, and they could bump into Eve together.

The president of the GSA spotted Eve and made his way up to her. She greeted him kindly and introduced him to Leo, who made sure to tell him that he was an ally. The president looked up at him with a smile and as he began asking if they were going to attend the next meeting, Leo’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He left Eve to explain her hectic schedule and stepped away.

It was his mother. Great. It was like she always knew the absolute worst times to call.

“Hi, mom.”

“Leo, are you busy?”

“No, mom.”

“Good. I wanted to know when you’re visiting home. We haven’t seen you in months.”

Leo closed his eyes. He didn’t want to go “home” at all, but it was expected of him, and he felt like it was important to keep some peace between him and his parents.

“You don’t live that far away,” she said. “It shouldn’t be that hard to see us every once in a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Leo said. “I’ve been trying to get applications for grad school submitted before the end of the semester.”

“That’s why I want to see you. I want to know how it’s going. I can’t brag that you’re getting into all the top schools if you don’t tell me when you get accepted.”

“I haven’t heard back from anyone except SUNY.”

“You’ll get accepted to all of them.”

Leo laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Some of these programs are pretty competitive.”

“Talk to your father and I about it over brunch in a couple of weeks. How’s two Fridays from now?”

She always scheduled their meetings like they were business partners rather than family. He just knew that she was penciling him in between a hair appointment and some tea with her church friends.

“Uh. That’s fine. I have class at noon on Fridays, though.”

“We’ll make sure you make it to class.” There was a few seconds of silence. “Where are you right now? It’s very loud.”

“I’m at an author’s visit on campus.”

“That’s nice. I’ll let you know where we get reservations. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Tell dad I said hi.”

Fuck. He had to deal with this shit in person. But it’d be fine. He’d get it done and out of the way, and he wouldn’t have to see his parents again until Christmas. If he moved a little further away, he could probably go longer stretches of time without seeing them.

Sorry, no money for a plane ticket. No time to leave work and grad school projects. See you Easter, maybe!

Leo hung up and returned to Eve who was now alone and scrolling on her phone.

“I’m heading back to my brother’s apartment,” Eve said. “Unless you want to learn more about the GSA. I told Chase I’d indoctrinate you if you were interested.”

“Don’t you mean recruit?”

“No, it’s an inside joke.” Eve shoved her phone into her pocket. “Want some flyers?”

“Sure. Yeah. Definitely.”

And so he left with Eve, hands full of flyers and a calendar of events and his phone buzzing again from his mother telling him that she had already made a reservation. When Damián asked him later how it was, Leo lied through his teeth and said it was great. He had had a great day.

[padfoot0216]

Part 1 of me single handedly trying to grow the Miracle Workers fandom because I love the show.

Segment 1: Out of context quotes (Season 1)

1. Eliza - “Theres no way we can answer all of those [prayers].

Craig - I generally try and shoot for three, four a day. Although, now that I’ve got you, a teammate, theres no telling what we can do. I’m thinking 5…6…maybe as many as 6!”

2. Eliza - “There’s got to be something we can do .

Craig - I mean you can press F7.

Eliza - Does that stop typhoons?

Craig - No but it turns the sound off.”

3. Craig - “And does the debris ever dance?

Person - What?

Craig - Say the debris had lost an object, and then that object were found for it, would the debris be like *insert Craig dancing slightly*”

4. God - “But if you fail…

Eliza - Earth explodes.

God - Yeah but also…you have to eat a worm. Alive. The whole thing. The head and the butt. In front of everyone.”

5. God - “So we could explode his heart, or his lungs, *under his breath* or his penis.

Sanjay - Explode his penis?

God - Woah now that’s an idea!”

6. Abe Lincoln - “Out of my way black cat I’m late for my fun play!”

7. Craig - “Oh, no. No. Im not scared.

Eliza - You’re not?

Craig - No. I’m a bold, intrepid man with a strong mind. I’m a risk taker. I’m a big, bad…boy?”

8. Man 1 - “Oh shit my melon.

Man 2 - There goes our fruit salad.”

9. Craig - “If the world explodes then you will go down as history’s greatest murderer. Nobody wants that.”

10. Person - “This isn’t the department of anuses. We have integrity.”

11. Craig - “Thank you, and this pizza gentleman is gonna live, right?

Eliza- We are back on track.”

12. Eliza - “That necklace…why? I mean who wears bones to a massacre. I mean ugh I thought I was so hip.”

13. Sanjay - “We just watched you eat mud out of a bog.

Craig - Yeah that was clean mud.”

14. Person - “Why is the tornado staying in one place! This is impossible!”

15. [God scatting]

16. Craig - “It would make me really sad if God couldn’t read.”

17. Eliza - “Did he just turn that guy into a jellybean?!”

18. Eliza - “I am objectively bad at my job. I have accidentally killed a ton of people and I’m the leader of this group.

Sanjay - It’s true.

Craig - She leads us.”

19. Craig - “Yes! She saved us! Nooo, I have it away! He knows.”

20. Sanjay - “Okay, okay, new pitch. Uh, how about a romantic carriage ride?

Craig - Nope. Sam’s afraid of horses. Doesn’t like their eyes.

Sanjay - All right, then, uh, what about an eyeless horse? We get some crows, right?

Craig - Wait, where are you getting crows from?

Sanjay - It’s Earth. Anywhere. We get them to swoop down and peck the eyes out of the horse.

Craig - No, crows only peck out of dead things, though. So unless you’re going to get a dead horse-

Sanjay - Then I’ll get a dead horse!”

21. Eliza - “You’d go for it, right?

Craig - Well, no, not necessarily. Not if I was unsure about how she felt about me, or was scared to death if losing her as a friend, and also pretty frightened of her in general.

Eliza - What?

Craig - What?”

22. God’s Brother - “Explain cows.

God - I don’t want to do this anymore.

God’s Brother - Tell mom and dad what a cow is.

God - It’s like a big dog you can drink from.”

23. Gods Brother - “Tell then about giraffes. What’s a giraffe.

God - Tall dog with a leg for a neck.”

24. Craig - “(singing) Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket you live on a shelf. One is wet and one is dry and you are both my friends.”

25. Eliza - “(to Craig) Listen I’m sorry we put you in the cabinet.”

26. Person - “I’ll be honest, I’m always high, you know?”

27. Eliza - “Craig! Craig! Are you okay? Craig?

Craig - Bzzzzzzzzzz.

Eliza - *gasp*

Craig - Just kidding.”

28. Sanjay - “(pointing to a word that is clearly mammoths) We do it right here in the department of love.

God - Oh. Makes sense. Okay.

God - There sure is a lot of mammoth stuff in here.”