#and Alain wanting to be able to ask him things/talk about stuff the way they did after Adelaide still but not being able to

[gr8ntaire]

Alain always saying he has so many things he wants to talk about with/ask Ayrton 💔💔💔💔

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

but it is sunlight

Fandom: Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Gaim, Kamen Rider Ghost Characters: Tsugami Shouichi, Hikawa Makoto, Tendou Souji, Kagami Arata, Kazuraba Kouta, Kureshima Takatora, Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto, Alain Song: "Sunlight," Hozier (playlist here) Warning: Mildly NSFW--not especially explicit, but people do have sex in this story

a buried and a burning flame – i

A shared day off is rare, but it does happen sometimes, and today the weather is so warm and perfect that Makoto is content to sit on the step drinking a lemonade and watching Shouichi garden.

Their garden space here isn’t as big as the one Shouichi got used to at Professor Misugi’s house, but it’s been expanded upwards with poles and frames and other contraptions that Makoto isn’t quite clear on. Really, they’re lucky to have a plot at all—the restaurant has its own rooftop space, so it’s not like Shouichi’s hurting for plant contact, but he needs it for himself as well. Makoto’s not sure he’ll ever understand the way Shouichi craves the presence of growing things. But then, he’s just happy to see Shouichi enjoying himself.

He glances around the garden briefly as Shouichi’s murmuring over a cucumber plant and frowns. “Aren’t sunflowers always supposed to face the sun?”

“Generally, sure.” Shouichi smiles but doesn’t look up from his work. “Why?”

“Well, if they don’t then doesn’t that mean they might be sick? The sun’s south of us right now, but your flowers are facing west.”

“Our.”

“Mm?”

“It’s your garden too.”

“Well, sure, but I mean it’s really—”

“Anyway, don’t worry, if they were sick I’d know. They’re probably just a little slow today.”

Makoto’s dubious, but he nods, and Shouichi beams at him for a moment and then goes back to fussing with the cucumbers. Once he finishes with them, he does something with a tomato plant nearby, and then hurries over to a small patch of green onions on the other side of the garden.

The faces of the sunflowers move to follow him as he walks. Makoto almost misses it, catches their motion out of the corner of his eye as he, too, is turning, and then freezes as they continue to shift. “Do—did you just see that?”

Shouichi frowns. “See what?”

“Ah…no, never mind.” Makoto settles forward, elbows on his knees, watching in soft fascination as Shouichi continues to work. “It’s not that important, I probably imagined it.”

---

the icarus to your certainty – i

Tendou doesn’t make demands most of the time, but he doesn’t make suggestions either. He makes statements and then continues on in the calm assumption that they’re true.

When he gets back from his trip abroad, for example, the first conversation Arata has with him ends with, “We’ll see you for dinner at six.” It’s not an invitation, or a request, or a question. It’s just a statement of fact, its truth etched into the fabric of the universe, and so Arata gets to the house at six precisely.

There are other statements that follow, of course. Like, “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow,” and, “Other people address me by surname, not you,” and, “It’s late, you’ll stay the night.” The thing is, Arata wants to bristle at this casual certainty, but he can’t manage it, because so far Tendou—Souji—hasn’t said anything incorrect. When he makes these statements, Arata wants them to be true, and so they becometrue by default. He shows up at the same time the next day. He says, “Souji,” instead of, “Tendou,” and is shaken by the faint, surprised smile he gets in response. He stays the night.

Tonight Souji’s making some kind of crab risotto thing, and Arata is helping, which is to say making a salad. This is already strange, since it used to be that he was barely even allowed in the kitchen. Hiyori, visiting for the evening, is sitting on the couch with Juka while Juka talks about one of her classes at Jounan University. It’s very domestic.

He finishes slicing cucumbers and is reaching for the lettuce when Souji turns to him holding a small spoon and says, “Taste this.”

On automatic, and because his hands are busy, Arata just leans forward and eats the spoonful of risotto, letting it spread out creamily over his tongue. “Mm.”

Souji is looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think—wait, you’re actually asking me for my opinion?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You just…don’t usually ask for opinions.”

“Not from other people, no, but other people aren’t you.”

Arata laughs in warm surprise. “Really? What makes me so different?”

He’s not really expecting an answer, but Souji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “If all of humanity were alchemically distilled into one specimen exhibiting only its finest qualities, that specimen would be you.”

Arata stares at him. “I. You. Are…is this a quotation, are you quoting something?”

Another one of the faint, surprised smiles he’s gotten to like seeing. “No. But perhaps someday, someone else will quote me, and rest assured, the recipient of the quotation will not deserve it nearly as much as you.” And, before Arata can really process that, “I would appreciate your opinion on the risotto now.”

“I…it’s really delicious, but. Maybe it could use a pinch more salt?”

Souji nods firmly. “I’d suspected as much. Thank you.”

He returns to his cooking, reaching for one of the little pots of salt next to the stove, and leaves Arata to cut up lettuce and try to figure out what just happened.

---

i had been lost to you – i

Kouta’s visits are infrequent, inconsistent, and never announced. The most warning Takatora ever gets is a sudden, powerful waft of flowers and fruit, moments before a zipper opens in the air in front of him. He’s gotten used to it, as much as one can get used to something like that.

(Kouta always comes to him. His house has more privacy than most other spots Kouta knows in Zawame, and anyway, according to him, “You’re always easy for me to find.”

Sometimes those visits are for “work,” as Kouta calls it, and he stays only for a brief moment before rushing off to whatever world-ending crisis has caught his attention. More often, though, the reason is nothing more than, “Things are aligned correctly right now, and I missed Zawame.”

He’s sitting in the park now, on a bench under a camellia tree. A casual observer wouldn’t look at him and see a god, just a smiling young man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, shoes kicked off so that he can curl his bare toes in the grass. Maybe he’s waiting to meet a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; maybe he’s just enjoying the good weather. As Takatora watches, though, a squirrel runs down the trunk of the camellia tree and leaps onto Kouta’s shoulder, and he turns and beams at it, apparently listening intently to its chattering. A jay is perched on his knee. Two stray cats are sprawled on the grass flanking him like indolent sentries, and a dog with a collar, probably lost, is curled up against his hip on the bench.

He lifts a hand, cupped, and Takatora knows without being able to see it that his palm is filling with seeds, manifesting as if from his skin. He’s done it before. The squirrel runs downs his arm and begins to stuff itself, the jay hopping from his knee to his fingertips to do the same. With his other hand he reaches up absently to catch a gleaming red apple that drops down from the camellia tree and begins to eat. Only the plants nearby lean away from him, which seems strange until Takatora realizes that they’re not really leaning, they’re growing, extending outward from his presence like an aura, the grass increasingly tall around his ankles.

How strange to see him at peace. And what an astonishing thing, that he should turn his face even for a moment from the new world he guides and his cosmically-designated beloved to walk once more in the city that treated him so poorly.

(She doesn’t visit. She can’t set foot outside of her hallowed forest now. But Takatora did get to speak to her, once, and he knelt and begged her forgiveness for all that he allowed to happen and received in return a kiss so gentle and yet searing in its benediction that even now he can feel it on his skin, and sometimes has to look in the mirror to see if she left a mark on his forehead.)

“Hey!” Kouta is waving to him with the hand holding the apple core. “Takatora! Are you done with your meeting thing? Come on over, I want to hear everything that’s happened since the last time I was here.”

Takatora blinks and nods, shocked out of his reverie, and heads over to the camellia tree. The stray cats scatter as he approaches, but none of the other animals move, so after barely a moment’s hesitation he sits down in the grass at Kouta’s feet, unmindful of his suit, and says, “Well, reconstruction work is nearly finished, we’ve only got two or three more buildings left to repair. Did I tell you about the dance classes at the new community center?”

“The ones that Zack and Peko are running? I think you mentioned them a little last time, did those finally start?”

Camellias bloom out of season over their heads. “Yes, only a few weeks ago. There may be a few other Beat Riders assisting as well, possibly by running additional courses, apparently enrollment was well past what anyone had anticipated.” Takatora leans against Kouta’s shin as the grass slowly creeps up past his knees, comforted by his radiant warmth. “And Mitsuzane’s continuing to enjoy university, he’s going to be working for one of his professors next semester as a teaching assistant…”

---

love and its decisive pain – i

Being around Takeru is a strange experience now, because by simply existing he exerts a spiritual pressure unlike anything else Alain’s ever encountered. The pressure isn’t negative, but it is constant, the weight of a higher reality radiating from his skin. Or, not a higherreality—Alain isn’t sure what it is, but Takeru’s certainly of the human world.

Alain isn’t sure if people who aren’t from the Ganma World even notice it. Certainly he’s seen Javert twitch minutely when handing Takeru something, he’s seen how Igor goes tense around him, even Alia’s been known to flinch away from the intensity of his proximity. Are they unusually sensitive, or are the people of the human world just numb to it?

Perhaps it’s nothing new, and he’s just always been like that and that’s why people don’t notice. Makoto would know—he’s of the Ganma World now, even if he came to it late. “Has Takeru always had such…presence?”

Makoto glances at him, and then over at Takeru, who’s crouching to offer a rice ball to a child sniffling on the temple steps. The child takes it, hand brushing Takeru’s, and relaxes in the same way that Igor might tense at the same contact, perceptibly basking in that unseen but powerfully felt aura.

“No,” Makoto says. “No, this is new. He wasn’t like this before. Or at least he wasn’t like this when we were young.”

Somehow this answer isn’t reassuring at all. “I see. That’s…it’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

That’s the point at which Takeru hears them and looks up, face transformed by delight at the sight of them. “Makoto! Alain! When did you get here?” Behind him, Narita comes forward to walk the sniffling child over to a quieter corner, asking her as they go whether she knows either of her parents’ phone numbers. Takeru waves goodbye to her, beaming, and then hurries across the room to crash into Makoto’s arms, and Alain can see Makoto being overtaken by that benevolent pressure. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Nothing’s going on, right? Everything’s ok? Who’s taking care of things in the Ganma World?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makoto says into Takeru’s hair. “Alia’s got everything under control.”

“This is a social call,” Alain adds, and is favored with an embrace of his own, knees almost buckling under the warmth of Takeru’s presence. “We just missed you.”

“I missed you both too. I hope you’ll be here for a couple of days, at least?” The weight of his joyful expectation is so much that Alain can only nod. “Wonderful! Here, come on, you’re both probably hungry, let’s go get takoyaki.”

He’s human, Alain realizes as Takeru’s fingers wrap around his and he feels that shiver run through him again. That’s all it is, and also everything that it is. More than anyone else in this realm, he is human.

What an extraordinary thing.

“I’d like that,” Alain says out loud, and Takeru is already grabbing Makoto’s hand as well. “It’s been a while since we shared a meal.”

“It has, hasn’t it? Let’s go, you two can tell me all the news while we’re eating.”

---

a buried and a burning flame – ii

For the most part Shouichi doesn’t initiate. It’s not that he’s not enthusiastic about sex, he’s just an awful tease. Little gestures, bumps and brushes, obvious double entendre that he then winkingly denies; he’d rather drive Makoto to distraction and pretend innocence until Makoto finally loses patience and backs him up against the nearest wall. He even admitted to it once, in an unguarded moment of drowsiness. “I like when you do that, it’s fun. And it’s not like I can just ask you to.”

“You could, though,” Makoto had said, but Shouichi had already drifted off.

They’ve been together all day, but Makoto can barely remember any of it clearly except Shouichi. Everything else fades into the background when faced with the vividness of his smile.

Makoto’s shirt is somewhere back in the living room, he thinks maybe on the couch. They’ve been trying to get Shouichi’s shirt off, but that’s been a tougher prospect, because it’s a pullover. Finally, though, it comes off over his head and lands on the floor, and Makoto presses him to the wall again. And now, even more vivid than his smile is the feeling of his skin, burn-hot against Makoto’s lips and hands and chest, his fingers like a brand curling around the back of Makoto’s neck as Makoto kisses his throat.

They barely make it to the bedroom.

The heat of him is extraordinary, feverish, it would be frightening if Makoto wasn’t used to it. He is, though, they’ve been together for years now, so instead his own thoughts can melt away in the face of Shouichi and his pleasure, the taste of him, the sound of his breathless cries, Shouichi arching up against him. Sure, he gets off somewhere in there too, but the important thing is Shouichi, climaxing underneath him with a gasp of, “Makoto,” and a kiss that Makoto would be willing to end the world for.

Afterwards, they lie wrapped around each other in a state of abstracted bliss until Shouichi mumbles something about being thirsty, at which point Makoto extricates himself despite the attendant sleepy protests and heads to the kitchen with a blanket around his waist to get drinks. Passing the bathroom on the way back, he pauses, frowning, at the sliver of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It hadn’t been sunny enough today to get a real sunburn, but there’s a sunburn on the back of his neck nevertheless, bright red although not painful. He sets down one of the glasses, reaches up and covers it almost perfectly.

When he realizes what it is—although Shouichi’s palm is slightly broader than his, Shouichi’s fingers slightly shorter—he blushes and picks up the glass again, heading for the bedroom, hoping that his hair is long enough that no one at work asks about the handprint burned into his skin.

---

the icarus to your certainty – ii

It’s not always so precipitous.

Normally they have to be quiet, because normally there’s at least one other person in the house. And in any case, Souji dislikes rush—he’ll approach anything and everything with a plan in mind, sex included.

Tonight, though, after dinner finished, Juka distributed a round of cheek kisses and then gathered up her bag and headed out, to meet up with a university friend she’s doing a project with. Hiyori left shortly after that. (She rarely stays the night anyway, she doesn’t like to leave her parakeet alone.) They’re alone in the house unless the Zecters are around somewhere, and they mostly keep to themselves, they’re hardly company in the same way.

But.

Precipitous.

They do dishes together, in comfortable silence, and once that’s done and his washing gloves are off Souji turns to make one of those true statements. Except that Arata decides he doesn’t feel like hearing one right now, so before Souji’s even gotten through one word Arata takes a step forward and kisses him, bracketing him against the edge of the counter with both arms. Souji makes one of those little surprised noises and drapes his arms over Arata’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and a couple of minutes later Arata’s hands shift down to lift and Souji’s legs wrap around his waist, and.

It’s good that they have the house to themselves.

They can’t stay at the kitchen counter, because it’s a bad height and also that’s not sanitary, and the dinner table won’t support their weight, which is a lesson they learned the hard way. The couch is an option, though, and it’s not easy to get over there with another person wrapped around him, but it is doable. He sits, or more lands, with a thump, Souji in his lap, Souji’s hands on the sides of his face tilting his chin up, and for some while lets himself be overwhelmed by having all of Souji’s considerable attention focused on him.

A pause for breath, for the removal of at least some clothing (and if Souji fumbles Arata’s shirt buttons, Arata’s going to save the memory for himself and certainly never mention it), for—“Are you all right?”

For Souji looking down at him, dizzy-eyed, and saying, slowly, “Your depths are such that I think I could drown in you.”

Arata reaches up, takes hold of his wrists, thumbs rubbing gently across the pulse points. “I mean, I can’t get poetic about it like you can,” more quietly than warranted given that they’re alone, “but you’re so much that sometimes I feel I could burn up, so that seems like a fair trade.”

He’s expecting that surprised look, but it doesn’t come, because what he gets instead is a kiss that would definitely have him on his ass in seconds if he wasn’t already sitting down. “More than fair.”

---

i had been lost to you – ii

Even before his apotheosis Kouta was a man built for pleasure. It must have been a glorious accident of his birth, Takatora thinks, that on his mouth smiles are so natural, that his body responds to any rhythm with grace, that he laughs so easily. Takatora has lived his entire life on the far other end of that spectrum—at best, he might call himself austere—but he can’t bring himself to be jealous of such an infectious and in-born joy. He can only hope to increase it, in whatever way he can.

So he kneels.

It isn’t worship, because Kouta will not accept his worship. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, he may be a god but he refuses to be treated like one. But love, as a great man once said, is a sacrament best taken kneeling, and while there are many points Kouta will argue, Takatora’s esteem and affection for him are not one of them.

Really, though, Kouta isn’t saying anything especially coherent right now.

His unnecessary but habitual breathing is coming short, and his hair flickers from deep brown to unearthly gold as his concentration disintegrates. If his eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they, too, would be flickering. His fingers, curled on the edge of the bed, have flowers blooming between them. And Takatora, the indirect cause of this riotous growth and rendered speechless for more immediately physical reasons, continues until his lips are numb and Kouta is pulling him up and flattening him to the bed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to stop me, you know I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No,” and a kiss, “no, we don’t know if it could—” and another kiss, “so no, even though you know I, you know—Takatora, I—” and the dissolution of coherence once again, now for both of them, as Takatora dizzily allows himself to be subsumed by Kouta’s passion and enthusiasm.

The first few times he was able to visit, afterglow involved actual glowing on Kouta’s part, which was the cause of some mutual hysteria—Takatora doesn’t want to call it giggling, but that’s really the accurate term. The glow’s under control now, and Kouta lies against him, asleep, and does not look more divine than any other beautiful man in repose.

There are still flowers blooming on the edge of the bed, red and orange against the plain bedspread. They’ll be scolded away later, but for the moment they are bright and strong and vivid. Takatora, drowsy himself, drifts off gazing at them, Kouta’s arms tight around his waist.

---

love and its decisive pain – ii

They are devoted partners, and thus Takeru’s anger is their anger, Takeru’s sorrow is their sorrow, Takeru’s joy is their joy, and, most crucially in this moment, with the dawn not arrived and the day yet to start and make them all busy, Takeru’s pleasure is their pleasure. And because he is who he is, because he feels everything with such strength and fervency that it radiates from him like sunlight, it is such pleasure. On his back, hands above his head, eyes bound, he has given himself over to their loving mercy and yet the weight of his existence is still enough to envelope them both.

Alain leans down to kiss the smiling mouth below the blindfold and say, softly, “Is there something you want?”

“Isn’t the point of this that you two are making the decisions?” Takeru sounds like he might laugh.

Alain glances over Takeru’s chest at Makoto, who is already looking over at him, and who raises an eyebrow before saying, “Is that a serious question or are you just being difficult?”

It’s definitely suppressed laughter. “A little of both, really. I want you to do what you want. I trust you.”

So they do what they want, which, gloriously weighed down by Takeru’s unconditional trust, is what he wants too. And what they want is to kiss, to touch, to take their pleasure in ways that render him arch-backed and breathless and crying out as they take their turns on him. They take their pleasure until he’s coming in an unexpected avalanche of laughter which, like all avalanches, overtakes them as well.

Dawn is breaking, light spilling in through the open window for Takeru to flinch against as they uncover his eyes. He buries his face against Makoto’s chest as soon as his arms are free and he can move, mumbling, “It’s too bright, I’m going back to sleep, you both have to keep me company since you’re the ones who wore me out.”

“Right,” Makoto says drily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Alain is draping himself over Takeru’s back, “humans need sleep, I forget that sometimes.”

He can feel Takeru’s smile like a separate presence in the room, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, like you’re so inhuman.”

Alain presses his face to the back of Takeru’s neck and finds that, at least for the moment, the pressure of his reality is not so much a weight as it is an embrace, enfolding the three of them as they lie together drowsing. “It’s not that we are less, perhaps.” A yawn against Takeru’s warm skin, occasioning a ticklish wriggle. “It’s just that you’re so much.”

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Reeducation & restraint

TIMING: A couple days ago LOCATION : White Crest General Hospital PARTIES : @notsoharsh​ & @carbrakes-and-stakes​ SUMMARY : Therapy, patience and suspicion.

Harsh cast another glance over the chart in his hands, frowning. He didn’t usually have much to do with physical therapy, but it was darker out earlier now and it never hurt to pick up a couple extra shifts where he could. It was just his job to get them in and out, no big deal. This one gave him pause though. Loss of limb wasn’t exactly anything new in White Crest, Harsh had seen his fair share of people in all parts of that process. What was weird were the doctor’s notes. Five weeks in, but healing like it had been months. That wasn’t totally out of the ordinary either. Well, in some terms. Plenty of things healed a lot quicker than run of the mill humans, enough that the staff at WC General had stopped worrying about it. Harsh couldn’t exactly fault them for that. With all the batshit things going on, complaining about people getting better too quickly would’ve been insane. Still, it made Harsh hesitate outside the room for a minute. There was no reason to be too concerned. He had helped plenty of patients who got better a little faster than they should have. This would be fine. Sticking his easy smile into place, he lightly knocked on the door before letting himself in. “Hey there, Mr. Babineaux. You ready to head home? Anything I can do for you before I get you out of here?”

A puzzled look on his face, Alain looked at the door. There was a vampire on the other side of that door, this much he knew. If he claimed that he was done hunting, his distaste for the species was not gone, and his resting frown intensified as the door opened. His eyes caught the name on the tag, and he replied with a stiff upper-lip : “I think I will be fine,” his hand reached for the back of his chair as he pulled himself up. Standing on his leg, the man gave the hospital worker a concerned look, wondering if he would just approach anyway. Reaching for his crutches, Alain noticed only then that his therapist had left them on the other side of the room. Of course. Biting on his cheek, he glanced from the crutches to the other man, then back at the crutches. “Would you mind?” If he was not thrilled about accepting his help, hopping around like a spring was out of the question too.

Apparently having just the one leg wasn’t going to keep this guy down. Harsh could respect that. He wasn’t sure if he should trust it though. If anyone was going to lose a limb and keep on swinging it would be some kind of hunter. Then again, there were plenty of corners of the supernatural world he had never even dipped a toe into. This could be nothing. “Huh?” He followed Alain’s glance and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He crossed the room and grabbed the crutches. “Do you want me to wheel you out of here? I can grab a chair, it’s a lot faster,” he said, offering Alain the crutches. Those probably couldn’t be used as a stake… probably. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around much before. I’ll probably be helping you for the next couple weeks, we just switched shifts around. I’m Harsh, by the way. I like to try to get to know my patients.” Maybe if he could keep up the friendly smile, this would be fine. He was probably already overthinking things. This was fine.

The prospect of having to accept the vampire's help did not enchant Alain, but the man was so tired that he had decided, at least for this morning, to put aside his hatred for them and to let the vampire help him. He suspected, of course, that Harsh was only working here for the hospital's vital resource, weak people, and more conveniently, a pocket supply of blood. The hunter was pragmatic, and he actually saw little harm in vampires feeding like this. A person at the end of their life, or blood in their bags, would still do less harm, and would be a much less risky way of sustaining themselves. However, putting aside his hatred didn't mean all animosity was gone, and it was no wonder his shoulders seemed to tense as the vampire approached with crutches in hand. He could probably stab him with those, he told himself. The hunter found himself confused when he began to ask himself the following question: what had this vampire done to deserve such a brutal and arbitrary death. If Alain often asked himself this question when he was alone, this was the first time he had asked himself this in the presence of these individuals whom he had considered since his childhood as monsters, shadows in the night, and whose sole purpose (and these were again traces of the teachings received as a child) was to terrorize men, and destroy lives. “I lost my leg not long ago,” though his voice sounded harsh and dry, the expression on his face seemed a little more relaxed, as he watched the other man act in a respectable manner. “The next couple weeks,” he repeated, and you could read in his face that the revelation puzzled him, as if he doubted his ability to endure such promiscuity in the long run. Maybe this was an opportunity that life gave him, to learn to bear with these individuals? The hunter, confused, glanced away from the vampire for a few seconds. This was evidence that he didn’t feel in danger, although that didn’t last long. “Harsh, okay. You might as well call me Alain then. I don’t think I’ll stand being called Mr. Babineaux for too long,” being reminded that he was his father's son was not something he enjoyed, and although he could rarely avoid it, if he could, he made it known. The hunter wondered about confessing who he was, but since he also wanted to know if he could endure a vampire for the long haul, he kept that to himself, hoping it wouldn't come back to hit him in the face in the weeks to come. .

There wasn’t anyone around. This guy was down a leg. The doctor wasn’t supposed to come back to check in on him. How hard would it be to snap his neck and get him in a body bag? Harsh had done more with less. But no. There were still half a dozen happy little hearts beating away just down the hall. If Alain screamed, they would come running. And what if he wasn’t a hunter? What if he was just some poor asshole who lost his leg? The last thing Harsh needed was that kind of heat on him. No. No murdering. This would be fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. Not having to breathe came in handy when it came to hiding his rising nerves. “Ah, yeah, I sorta noticed that,” he said, with a light little laugh. “How are you adjusting? I know that kind of thing can’t be easy.” That at least was true. He had seen plenty of patients and plenty of others before White Crest who had lost bits of themselves. “Alain, got it. Nice to meet you. So do you want me to grab a chair? Or anything else to help get you out of here?”

“You asked why you never saw me before,” the hunter deadpanned, little amused by this little exercise in humor. The last thing he felt capable of doing, right now, was sharing jokes with this kind of people. The man hadn't done anything wrong except that he wasn't really a human being. Alain wondered how old the vampire was, or whether he had been living here for a long time. He always had a lot of questions when he met a vampire, but more often than not, he never really had the opportunity to ask them, and more often than not, it was the hunter’s fault that he couldn’t ask those. “Well, things are not easy, no,” he didn’t have to lie to this guy. Alain always tried to preserve people, and figured that they simply could not care for him, but he was not going to be so careful here. “I had to stop work ever since it happened, and that has not been fun. My house is in the middle of nowhere so I had to move out. The realtor was pretty nice though, I think I made a friend there. That’s about the only positive bit though,” he stopped in his tracks. He rarely was so talkative, but it did not really matter to him now. It just felt off. “I think the crutches will be enough,” glancing over at the door, he pursed his lips. “Though I could use help getting out of this maze,” he agreed.

Not the joking type, okay, good to know. But the guy wasn’t flipping out or trying to go for a pencil to stake him with. Maybe he was alright. Maybe he wasn’t. This shit was so hard to tell. At least when a slayer was coming at him, Harsh knew what he was dealing with and how to respond. This not knowing, playing nice, this was the stuff that got under his skin. He nodded sympathetically. “I’ll bet. That sucks, man. Is your new place more accessible? People really just don’t consider this kind of stuff when they’re building property. Where did you work? If you don’t mind me asking.” That was all pretty rough, slayer or otherwise. It was easy enough to pretend to care about. “Yeah, no problem. You wanna stop by the cafeteria on your way out? I think they’re making the good cake today,” he said as he moved to the door, holding it open for Alain before falling into step. He kept his pace even. As funny as it would be, making a guy on crutches rush to keep up with him would probably qualify as a dick move. “Is someone picking you up or are you driving yourself?”

“It is much better,” and yet, the hunter's eyes fell to the ground as he thought of his old home. Lost in thought, he stared in that direction for a few seconds. The vampire's question pulled him out of that state of inner contemplation, and if he normally would have avoided saying too much about his personal life, everything was already on his medical record. “I own the garage on the way out of town,” which reminded him that he would also have to sell his car for something he could drive : which meant switching to automatic. “I should be able to keep working. I’m doing the accounts these days. They’ve never been so tidy,” his eyebrows raised. If this was one thing he could have never imagined, it was his accounts ever being up to date. He had always hated paperwork and administrative work, and he still hated that, but this was a weight off his back. “The good cake ? I’m scared to ask,” he looked over at the other man and shook his head. “I’m not getting near any hospital food by choice, I had to eat only that for weeks,” Alain had a thing for exaggeration, but in this particular case, he was fair. “Well I was thinking of walking back home. I don’t live far from here now. About fifteen minutes away, I think,” walking with crutches might have not been fun, but he missed being outdoor, and he insisted on walking whenever he could.

That didn’t sound a whole lot better. Maybe Harsh was being too nosy, but he was supposed to be chatty and friendly with the patients. People never suspected the upbeat friendly guy was the one stealing blood. “Well that’s something. I know it can be hard to find brightsides with this kind of injury, but it’s good to keep looking anyway.” This guy didn’t seem like he wanted bullshit platitudes or assurances that everything was going to be perfectly fine. Good. Harsh was always garbage with those. Laughing, he shook his head a little. “The bad cake isn’t that bad, it’s just that the good stuff always goes so fast. The cooks here… I mean, they try their best, y’know? But it’s not exactly gourmet, which I’m sure you noticed. So when they make something good, I always try to grab extra.” The surprise on Harsh’s face wasn’t the least bit fake. Walking that long on crutches sounded like a massive pain. “Are you sure, man? I can see if someone can drive you or call you a ride or something, it’s no problem. Your charts are looking good, but you still shouldn’t strain yourself.” He frowned as they reached the doors, hesitating with one hand on the bar. “I don’t like letting you go on your own, man. It’s already dark out. I’ve seen way too many animal attacks in this place to feel good about sending you out there.”

“It’s something. I just want to keep moving now. I feel like shit happens to me whenever I stop, I gotta keep doing,” it was like that old Buster Keaton movie, where the hero ended up in trouble whenever he took some time to rest. Alain smiled at the memory of that film, his eyes dropped to the floor and he took a moment to look at his foot. He tried to avoid doing that, but having decided to keep going meant facing your problems. “You just cannot convince me of that. I … no,” he shook his head, determined to stay upright in his boots. “Yeah, I’m quite resilient,” he paused. “Quite stubborn too, although I’m working on it,” he added with a chuckle. As uncommon as his request was, the hunter missed walking for hours, and a few minutes wouldn’t hurt him, would they ? He couldn’t reveal that he could see in the dark, or that he didn’t fear many animals out there aside from bugbears. The thought of running across another one terrified him, but he doubted they were roaming freely around the streets of White Crest. “I’ll be fine, I was a zookeeper back in the days,” not a lie, although it was not usually something he shared. Still Alain doubted that the vampire would make the connection.

“I get that. Although, I kind of feel like weird awful shit just happens in this town to everyone, whether you’re moving or not.” But Harsh could understand that. He had never taken well to being in any one place for too long. It all got stifling after a while. White Crest kept things interesting at least, but even it would grow stale eventually. “Hey, being stubborn isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes you need to keep going even if people tell you to stop.” That seemed decent enough advice for a patient. Though… if this guy was of the staking variety, that might not be the best thing to tell him. Harsh blinked, eyebrows rising. “A zookeeper? Where did you work? I didn’t think White Crest had a zoo.”

“That's not wrong,” the thought of leaving White Crest had crossed his mind often, but he had never been able to leave for very long. A few years ago, he left for Europe. He had been there for a little over a month. Alain told himself he would go there if he ever retired. And now that he had retired, at least from a very important part of his life, he wondered if it wasn't worth thinking about it again, a little more seriously. “I think everyone in this town has had, at least once, the urge to move out of here, including me,” the vampire's comment made him smile. He would once have had a carnivorous smile, but the one on his face was much friendlier, despite the negative assumptions he had. “I never said I worked in White Crest then,” he gave the guy a pat on the shoulder. This had to be the kindest gesture he’d ever given such a creature, and for a second, the hunter had the most puzzled look on his face, as if he expected his hand to catch fire, or the vampire to lash out. Nothing happened, however, so instead he smiled and shook his head. “I have quite a few stories to tell, although I’m not willing to share those yet.”

“You’re probably not wrong. I would be kind of concerned if there was anyone living here who hadn’t thought about leaving at least once.” The thought had crossed Harsh’s mind a number of times. It wasn’t the worst place to be a vampire, but with hunters… or maybe hunters all over, it wasn’t the best either. He blinked, the pat to his shoulder catching him by surprise. Maybe this guy was just normal after all. Or probably not a slayer at the very least. Harsh smiled easily in return. “Yeah? I’ll bet you do. Well, if you ever feel like sharing, I’m here a lot. I always like hearing a good story. If you’ve got any from that zoo, I’d love to hear them. Man, I can’t remember the last time I went to a real zoo.” He cast another glance outside, smile slipping a little. “Are you sure you don’t want help getting home? I could see if someone could cover for me for a bit and walk you there. I don’t like sending you out there alone.”

“Don’t trust anyone who claims that they don’t have a love-hate relationship with the town,” looking as a couple walked past them to go inside, Alain wondered just how many people came to the hospital everyday, and how many would have not ended up here had this town been normal. It still wasn’t natural for him to brush it away and tell himself that it no longer was his problem. How could it have been natural? Ever since he was little, he had been told that he had this debt : he had been given abilities, and in return for those, he had to protect others from this nocturnal threat that vampires posed. This had been the only thing that made him worthy to his family, and he now regretted not rejecting it sooner. Still, it only felt natural that it should happen now. Looking back at the things he had accomplished, at the rest of his life, now might have been the steadiest he had ever been. Life was not perfect, but he now had time to think about what he wanted, what HE wanted.

Approaching the doors, he wrinkled his nose as the cold wind hit his face. "You are very kind," this was more an observation than a compliment, although he'd let the vampire be the judge of that. "Quite stubborn are we?" Took one to know one. "Do as you wish, but I'm walking out. I'm sure you'll easily catch up with me if you find someone," an amused glint in his eyes, the slayer went out the door with his crutches, turning around to give the man one last look. Well, that had gone a lot better than he had expected. Speak about much ado about nothing, he told himself.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Brownie Points || Evelyn and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Perfect Pint PARTIES: @thronesofshadows​ and @chasseurdeloup​ SUMMARY: Evelyn and Kaden have an unexpected guest at the bar.

It had been entirely too long since Kaden had seen Evelyn. They kept making plans but White Crest had a way of delaying those. Whether it was due to weirdness or death or goddamn mimes, it didn’t matter. Either way, it was a welcome relief to walk into the Perfect Pint and see a football game on (a real football game) and a friend waiting for him at a table. “Hey, good to see you,” he said with a small smile. “I see you already have a drink. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” Kaden had gotten much better at being punctual since dating Regan but he still wasn’t fantastic. He sure fucking tried though. “And here I was going to ask you what you wanted. How’ve you been?”

She found Kaden’s company enjoyable. Despite the fact that he might have not been the sort of person who she would have first gravitated toward back in England, she was a new person, now - had been the last four years, she supposed. So when the two of them had finally found a time to see one another, she’d jumped at the chance. Certainly, the Perfect Pint has nothing on the Artesian but it was miles better than some other bars in town, and had a certain feeling of home. Or at least of her time at Cambridge, going out to pubs with friends. Evelyn had arrived early and grabbed one of the free tables, ordering a drink for herself. After a few moments she looked up and spotted Kaden entering the bar. Her face lit up and she motioned for him to come to her table. “Well, you know, one must consistently survey one’s competition.” With a small smirk, she shrugged. “You can get the next round, how does that sound? I have been well. I have to say, I would have thought a beachfront property would be entirely ideal - however, the ocean - for whatever reason - keeps causing quite a few difficulties.” She made a face. “How about you though? How have you been?”

“Oh, of course. Though I think you might attract a bit of a different clientele,” he said with a small smile. Kaden settled into the seat across from her and put in an order of beer with the waitress. “I think I can handle that, though. Assuming you’re letting me pay for something for once.” He wasn’t exactly rolling in money or anything but he always felt guilty whenever Evelyn just paid for things or gave him stuff or gave him money to help with shit. He couldn’t pay for anything like that for her but he could get a round of drinks or two. Hell, this was the most money he’d had at one time if he was being honest. He’d never had a steady job a day in his life aside from hunting. And hunting didn’t exactly pay on its own. As shitty as White Crest could be, this was the most comfortably he’d lived since possibly when his parents were alive. “Good to hear. Still can’t believe the ocean went fucking black. Only in White Crest.” Kaden went to pick up his drink, only to find it wasn’t on the side he’d left it. It was in his right hand last time, right? But now it was on his left. Odd. He just reached over and took a sip. “I’ve been alright. You know all those eyeballs everywhere back a bit ago? All human. Missing persons. A lot of work for the WCPD and the morgue to identify as many as we could. One of them was the last animal control officer. Which, uh, that was great.” Maybe this wasn’t the best topic of conversation for what was meant to be an easy evening with friends. Too late. Putain.

“I do indeed.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though I do remain surprised that prior to my opening my bar, something like this did not exist.” Evelyn shrugged, “though I suppose that a small town in Maine should not be expected to be quite as high class as London.” She crossed her legs, “yes, I will permit you to pay for something. I think I would be able to manage that.” She took a careful sip of her drink as she listened to what Kaden was saying. “So it would seem. You know, I would have thought a beachfront house in Maine would have been ideal but given everything that this town has gone through in the past few months, I am starting to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake. Not that I plan to move, I have put far too much work into my home, but I would prefer to have things on my beach remain a bit calmer. Though perhaps that is too much to ask.” She placed her drink down and nodded for a moment before her eyes grew wide. “Human?” She shook her head. “That sounds like a ton of work and - oh. Oh no.” She reached out for a moment, placing her hand on Kaden’s arm before pulling back again. Ready to take another sip of her drink, except that somehow it was closer to where Kaden was sitting now. “Apologies, I must have moved it and forgotten.” She grabbed it and brought it back over to where she was sitting. “I hope that other than that, things have been going well?”

“Well this is what you get for owning property in White Crest. But it could be worse, I guess. It’s not like your house flooded or anything right?” Kaden couldn’t even imagine owning property so the whole concept was still a little foreign to him. Renting a place all by himself without desperate need for a roommate or begging one of his hunter connections for help was a big step up for him. “Hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said, trying to bring the mood back up. He hadn’t meant to tank it so soon. “I’m alright, really. I’m just glad Regan isn’t trying to work twenty-four seven on the whole thing now that it’s calmed down. I mean, she still would probably work that much if she could regardless but it’s nice that she doesn’t have to.” Not that she could due to the whole necklace time limit thing. There was a clang to their left and Kaden looked down at the silverware sprawled on the floor. Huh, it must be his. Did his elbow knock it over? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter too much. He reached down to pick them up and placed them on the side of the table. “Guess I’ll just have to ask the waitress for--” When he looked back at her, he had to stifle a laugh. “Uh, you want to tell me why there’s a napkin on your head? Latest fashion trend?” he joked. “It doesn’t seem like it’s quite your style.”

“It did flood, once, actually.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “And although it was a bit abnormal in what actually happened, I suppose flooding can happen if one lives in close proximity to the ocean or another body of water.” She shook her head. “Listen, we are here for conversation. I spent many of my years growing up listening to people lie through their teeth about how perfect everything was. I hardly need all conversation to be peppy.” Evelyn grinned. “However, we can move beyond the conversation. I am not one to force anyone on anything.” She nodded as Kaden continued to talk. “I am glad for that as well. I ought to reach out to her again sometime. I find her company enjoyable and I would like her to know that,” especially despite everything confusing that happened with Alain. She followed Kaden’s gaze to the floor before he looked back up at her and began almost laughing. Before she could frown and inform him that it was not polite to laugh at friends, she felt something on her head just as he was asking her and she pulled it off quickly. “Not my style, nor is it a fashion trend. Save for the occasional headband or hair tie, I do not tend to do much with my hair. Least of all napkins.” She threw it on the floor and for an extra step of good measure, ground the heel of her shoe into it. “I like to be effective whenever possible.” She grinned. “Though I might ask you, what exactly is a spoon doing behind your ear? I thought that was most often a place for pens or other writing instruments.” Just then, a glass shattered on the table next to them and Evelyn made herself jump just slightly. “Perhaps my tolerance is no longer what it used to be, what with everything I feel like I am seeing. This drink is hardly anything strong.”

So many fucked up things had happened in this town that Kaden almost forgot the red sky, the flooding, and the fish rain. Almost. “Right. Yeah. I guess I’m not used to people really wanting to hear much that isn’t surface level.” Then again, he spent a lot of time avoiding anything deep or meaningful with people. It was easier to up and move if he didn’t care about anyone and if no one cared about him. “I’m sure she’d enjoy that. She thinks she doesn’t have a lot of friends. Which isn’t really true but hey, I guess I say the same.” And yet here he was with a friend, sitting at a bar, talking to a friend, and laughing at her dramatics with the napkin. “I pr-- I didn’t put it there, I can assure you. Wait, what?” His brow furrowed as he reached back to feel the metal utensil resting behind his ear. “Putain de merde, how in the hell?” He was about to start looking around for something, anything that could have caused this, when his head snapped towards the direction of the clatter of glass shattering. “Yeah, I barely had any of mine. I don’t think this is inebriation.” Then he saw it, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Sure looked like a monster to him. Not that he could make out the details. As soon as it noticed that Kaden had caught a glance, it gasped and turned invisible. “It’s either a brownie or..” he mumbled to himself, forgetting he was in company. “Uh, I mean a brownie sounds like a great idea right now. To eat. If they have one. You think they have one? Hey, where’s that server,” he asked, frantically glancing around for their waiter. And checking for the fucking borwnie at the same time.

“Do not worry, it is new for me as well. Back home? So much surface level knowledge. I can tell you all the designers that people wore to parties and probably list multiple accomplishments, but not many actually deep pieces of information. In case you have not noticed, I do not always share so very much.” It admittedly felt odd to even admit that much, but Kaden was someone who Evelyn did consider to be a friend, and so perhaps it was okay. “I think you are both delightful people and likely have more people who you might consider a friend than either of you think.” She shrugged. “I mean, I did not think you had, though -” she scrunched her nose up, before Kaden’s gaze shifted and she had to look towards where he was looking. “No, it has to be something -” something in the corner of the bar moved and then it was gone. Well, that wasn’t normal. “What? I am not sure if a bar will serve that sort of thing but it never hurts to ask.” She let Kaden wave the waiter over as she scanned the room. Something was amiss, and the only question was to try and figure it out without Kaden wondering what was going on - she didn’t know everything about the supernatural by any means, but she did know that bizarre and unexplained things in this town could frequently have that sort of explanation. The waiter arrived and Evelyn flashed them a smile. “My friend and I were wondering if you offer any sort of desserts here. Brownies? Admittedly, I do not love sweets,” or any human food, really, “but he mentioned it and now I can’t get it out of my mind.” She flashed them a smile as she moved her body to look behind them, spotting a flash of something on the bartop, just as another glass fell off and onto the floor.

Funny, Kaden hadn’t expected Evelyn to talk about shallow friendships or what not. Maybe it was just because he assumed most normal people formed connections easier than he did. Without the whole hunter bullshit, it almost seemed easy. Or something. Then again, when she pointed it out, he realized there was a fair amount about her he was unaware of. “Guess that’s true. But neither do I. I like what I know so far, though,” he said with a shrug. Of course she’de noticed something was off, too. He hoped he could sneak away, excuse himself to the restroom or something and deal with the brownie on his own. But now the waiter was coming. “Brownies, yup. Just had a, uh, hankering?” Was that the right word? He didn’t know. It sounded painfully american. “Hankering, yes,” the waiter replied in an Irish accent. It sounded just as stupid on his tounge as Kaden’s. “Sorry, sir, I don’t think we have any brow--” Just as the waiter was talking, Kaden saw the monster grabbing for glasses behind the bar, likely to throw or smash. And it looked like the thing was going to throw it at the waiter. “Doesn’t matter! Duck!” he shouted and pulled the waiter away. “I changed my mind. Don’t need that brownie. It’s fine.” He had to figure out how to deal with this monster while she was here. Putain.

“Better to have a select few things you like than a multitude of low quality accessories.” Evelyn gave another shrug. “Perhaps we will have to get to know one another more, sometime.” About everything save for the whole not-being-human thing. “I like what I know about you so far too.”  Except that now the waiter was coming over and Kaden was all of a sudden actually talking about brownies and the waiter was looking at the two of them and responding and Evelyn offered him an apologetic smile before Kaden was yelling at him to duck and she moved too, the glass just missing the waiter. “Yes, too much sugar.” She gave a shrug as the waiter quickly moved away, muttering something about messy bar patrons when Evelyn bit her lip. Something was up and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She didn’t know exactly what was up in the first place, and she wasn’t about to out herself as having more knowledge than a socialite from London was supposed to have. “I feel like I owe you. Every time I end up in a bar with you things go awry. I don’t see any mimes this time though.” She glanced around the bar again, trying to track wherever whatever the being was, was. “Which I do not mean as a joke, I am relieved for that at least.”

Kaden was relieved that no one was hurt at the flying glass, but he still wanted to know what the fuck was going on. It was highly unfortunate that this shit always seemed to happen to him in bars that weren’t the Bullet. Was he cursed or some shit? “Nah, don’t worry about it. I think this is me, not you.” He shook his head and took another sip of his beer. I wonder if Morgan would eat this. His brows furrowed and looked at her. “Would she eat, what? A brownie?” Did zombies eat brownies? “Wait, you know Morgan, too?” As soon as he asked, a creature, about the height of a toddler, with green leathery looking skin and long floppy ears, just appeared on the table. And took it’s long clawed finger and touched it to Evelyn’s nose before growling and laughing. Kaden sat there blinking, jaw dropped, unable to move. He should have grabbed a knife, grabbed it, anything, but it just disappeared as soon as it came. And she’d seen it. No doubt. Moment of truth, right? “Uh, so, you, uh…” He couldn’t figure out what to say. His code said to keep the supernatural from humans as much as possible. It was a good policy, ignorance was bliss. But was she ignorant to the supernatural? Putain. “That, uh, you saw--”

Evelyn made a small face. “No, I think…” What exactly did she think? Something unnatural was going on here, but she couldn’t exactly say that to Kaden. “It is not you. I think that the misbehavior that occurs in this town is quite a bit more extreme than I have seen in other places. Or, well, at least when compared with London.” Just take Felix’s hand. It’ll make you feel better. “Whose hand? You know I am dating Alain, right?” She blinked. “What did you say - yes. I do know Morgan. We talk about literature a great deal. She might eat a brownie.” All of a sudden some thing jumped up in front of Evelyn and she made a face of utter disgust. Which perhaps was cruel of her, but then again, she was startled in the moment. As much as she could be. Surprised, more than anything else. Then it was gone almost as quickly as it had come about and Kaden was staring at her. “I - I think?” She turned her head to the side, pursing her lips. “Something weird, but I have been sleeping funny lately. Did you see something?” Knife. “Did you need a knife for something? Were you asking about that?” She brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “For the brownies?”

“Sure is a weird town, alright. Nothing like Ly--” His hometown was a supernatural hot spot of its own right, it’s why his parents had made it their home base. “Well, alright it’s perhaps a bit like Lyon but the weird was never so consistent there,” Kaden said. His brow furrowed at her question. “Of course I know you’re dating Alain, I lost that bet if you recall.” He huffed out a small laugh remembering that night. Putain, he’d been so stupid not to see that Regan was a banshee then in hindsight, the cracked glass. So many small pieces of the puzzle kept filling even now. The sheer amount of willful ignorance he clung to then. He couldn't say shit about Regan’s resistance to the truth, not after that. “That’s, uh, that’s good you know Morgan. She’s--” He still didn't know how he felt about Morgan. “She’s an interesting person.” If zombies were people. Jury was still out on that. At Evelyn’s reaction to the creature, or lack thereof more accurately, Kaden’s face pulled into a thin line instead of the smile he was trying for. Not going to talk about it. Great. He could deal with denial. Putain, he was dating denial. “Yeah, weird, very-- Huh?!” His eyes went wide at the mention of a knife. Was she reading his mind? Is that why there were odd gabs and leaps in their conversation? Shit. Don’t think about being a hunter. No, not a hunter. Never once had he hunted a werewolf or killed a brownie just like the one right there a minute ago. Stop, oh god, why couldn’t he stop thinking about every hunting trip he’d ever taken in his entire life just then? “Yeah. Knife for the brownies. That’s--” Kaden panicked and looked down at his watch. Wait. That was on his other hand. He looked at his watch. “Oh is that, the time? I have to… Go. Fee Abel. Soon.” He stood up from the booth. “I’m sorry, maybe we’ll do this some other time.” He pulled out his wallet and put down some cash that looked like it ought to cover their drinks and a tip and an apology for all the bullshit damage that had happened that wasn’t even his fault. “We could try a cafe next time. Might have more luck.”

“London was never quite so weird either.” Evelyn gave a small shrug. “I know you know that - I thought you said something else. I am still sorry about you losing that bet but you were right. Even if we hadn’t started dating when you first started asking me about it.” She gave a small shrug at his comment about Morgan. “She is interesting, yes. We met on purpose but apparently she knew who I was because of the whole former model thing. Which is not a connection I expected to make here in America, but there you have it.” She bit her lip for a moment at his confusion. He was human - the whatever-it-was must’ve startled him. “...how you cut them?” She turned her head to the side. “Of course.” She stood up too - perhaps a bit too suddenly. “We can do this any other time you want. I’d agree with a café. Or just come by my place. We’ve had luck there.” She fought away the urge to throw down a couple hundred dollars - she had told Kaden she would let him pay, hadn’t she? “I think we should give bars a pass for now, though I swear, mine’s been fine barring that one incident that we shall not speak of.”

[nelllraiser]

alligator tears | nic & nell

TIMING: the day after squidward was revealed. LOCATION: the white crest...zoo ? PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @bountybossier SUMMARY: nic and nell come clean to one another about a few things, and absolutely no one cries. (including the muns)

The last place Nicodemus thought he'd be in less than 24 hours after ritualistically murdering someone was folded into the clown car sized sidecar of Nell's motorcycle. His truck was out of the question. August Trudeau's blood was all over the passenger seat and he was going to need a lot more bleach than what he had on hand and he couldn't even bear to fucking consider what they had done. He was crushing it down deep inside himself, into one of those dark corners where everything else too weak and too palpable went. So, Nell's sidecar it was. At least the helmet was of human proportion. Even if small pieces of dog hair kept fluttering up from somewhere, tickling his nose and compelling him to sneeze. He looked up at her and raised his voice over the wind. "When did you get a dog? You always had one?"

Nell really didn’t understand how Nic had ended up in her sidecar that was meant for Greg rather than...in his truck or something but- if this was what he wanted to do...she wasn’t going to say no. Nevertheless, she was a little amused as the sneezes kept coming, though she felt somewhat bad she hadn’t had time to clean up all the dog hair. “Oh- yeah- I don’t know- I got him a few months ago. His name is Greg! He’s really cute, though.” For a moment she paused, wondering if this was a good time to tell him about the other three demon dogs that she often had around in the form of hellhounds, but figured that might be a bit too much. After all, the zoo was meant to help him relax after he’d experienced all the stuff that was in his worrying online messages. “But enough about dogs. Are you ready for...gators?” she yelled back with a grin as she pulled into the parking lot of the zoo.

“Your dog has a person name,” Nicodemus mused, loud and slightly entertained. As entertained as a man in the process of numbing everything inside him could be. “Sounds like a fuckin’ dog accountant.” He tried to shuffle in the sidecar but the slight fear of accidentally dislodging himself entirely kept him immobile. The promise of alligators did work to soothe him some. He hated home and just about everything there, except for the alligators. They couldn’t be bothered to give a damn unless bothered. An existence worth envying. When they pulled into the parking lot and he saw the sign, he brightened some. When he first met Nell, nearly busting up one of his bounties, he didn’t expect...this. Meeting Nell was a good thing, in the same way meeting Alain or Erin was. Most folks in town, really. And it terrified an unknown part of him. A ghost of a smile came and went as he pried himself out of the sidecar with maximum effort and minimal grunting. “You better fuckin’ believe it,” he muttered as he straightened himself out, aches and all. Although his eyes were on the sign, he spoke to Nell. “...Thanks for this. Before I forget to say it.”

Nell chuckled a bit herself, glad to see that he at least seemed somewhat more grounded than he had online. At least...for now. “Hey! Greg is a very successful accountant. I’ll have you know he found a piece of wood in the yard the other day, and now he’s been promoted to assistant branch manager.” Nell waited for her horrible joke to land as if she were a dog waiting for a ball to be thrown, eager to please. It was better left unacknowledged, but she’d certainly fallen into the old trap of latching onto someone in hopes she might be able to gain their approval. But even beyond that- she liked Nic, and she wanted to help him through whatever it was that was going on. “Also- I didn’t name him. I’m much better at naming dogs.” She was pretty sure Scooby, Scrappy, and Shaggy were proof of that. Another, somewhat snarkier smile took her as he unfolded himself from the sidecar, glad she had already snapped a picture of him looking ridiculous in it. But it morphed once again into a more genuine one, and she glowed under his appreciation. “Don’t even mention it. It’s just a trip to the zoo. And I’m- well- I mean-” As always, she was shit when it came to baring her own emotions to the light of day. “I want to um- help. You know?” As she headed for the entrance, she took out her phone, having already bought the tickets online. “I’m glad the sun came out for it, though.”

The hunter’s eyes slid over to look at her, the life nearly gone from them. Nicodemus couldn’t find it in himself to complain. A bad joke was better than listening to ocean song and torn flesh. By quite a few fucking miles. “Bet he bought himself a fancy fuckin’ tie for that promotion,” he said slowly, as if trying to acclimate his tongue to speaking anything other than praises for what the hell was in the water at the lake. “Took himself to a five-star restaurant and got the best damn kibble they could offer.” It felt...normal. Whatever this was that they were doing. Almost too normal for him and he wondered if when he blinked, the sun might die again and Nell would be gone. He’d be back at the water, chanting words he didn’t understand and surrounded by strangers. He had been keen to throw himself back into the fire, even if it meant carrying in the dull butter knife he felt like he currently existed as. As soon as he pulled back into the Traveler, he had tried to pick up the knife he had tossed onto his passenger seat. But he couldn’t. Could barely wrap his fingers around it. Then, standing between Nell and the zoo, they hurt from where he had punched a crater into the drywall of his hotel room hours earlier. “Figured. You’d probably name a dog somethin’ like Rot Gut, right?” He shook his head and followed behind her. He had never been to a zoo before. He knew werewolves and ahuizotls before he even knew that things such as normal dogs and river otters existed. “I get it and you...are. Helpin’.” He said, recognizing enough how difficult the more...emotive side of things could be. As their tickets were scanned and they were waved in, he took in a deep breath. The place was large. Or, he thought it was. He didn’t have zoo standards to measure by. “...I don’t know where to start.”

Nell’s smile dropped a fraction of an inch when she saw that emptiness behind his eyes, having seen...something similar in another’s gaze before, and it lit a fire of worry in her stomach. Maybe she’d have to keep a closer eye on Nic. After all, she’d kept Evan’s ghost around for a reason, right? To make sure she didn’t lose any more people she cared about. To make sure to remind herself not to let them get hurt. Nevertheless, she carried on with their banter, wondering if it might ease things. “Oh no- he went all out with the surf and turf. Kibble? That’s for peasants. I do have a picture of him in a tie, though…” she said, half asking if he wanted to see it without actually saying so much as that. Something about Nic continued to seem far off, like the world was slightly out of focus for him. Then again, it very well might be if his sleep patterns had still been struggling, and he’d been ending up in strange places after his sleepwalks. She wanted to ask about them, but wasn’t today also supposed to be an escape from all that? So for now, she stayed silent on the matter. “What? No! I’d name it Nic,” she shot back in her teasing tone. “Because he’s hairy, and likes to chase anything that moves.” She swore her heart grew three sizes that day as Nic did his best to return an semi-emotional phrase, and just like that her smile was back in full force. “Then I’m...glad.” Her eagerness was also quick to return as she bounced a little on her heels, watching his expression and reaction to the zoo. “Well do you wanna go straight to gators- or explore first? Do you have any other favorite animals?”

The sun hovered over them and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at it. His night vision had been so attuned to the lack of light for days on end that the sudden reappearance of the sun had him squinting. Nicodemus reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the lone Excedrin he had tucked away. It wasn’t Nell’s potion but it was something to get him through the day. The hunter rolled it between his fingers before he dry swallowed it. “Sounds like one of those fancy dogs that got standards now. Need that high quality dirt or they won’t even raise a leg,” he said as he expelled air through his nose. “Is the tie from before or after his promotion? I wanna see.” The back of his hand still burned something fierce and he made sure to tighten the white bandage around it, looking like a boxer half-ready for a fight. The thought almost made him laugh. If he hadn’t looked ready for a fight before, he sure as hell did now. He didn’t think that he and Nell would find any bounties at the zoo. Even if they did, he wasn’t in the mood. Both of them were fighters. A few hours of rest might not kill them. Just for a few minutes, they could just talk and walk and not think about tomorrow’s bruises. He rasped a laugh at the idea of having a dog named after him. “You’d do a dog dirty like that? Hell, be better off stickin’ with Rot Gut or Greg.” As tired and rundown as he was, as much as the skin around his bones felt stretched beyond limits, he pushed through it to smile for Nell. No matter how small. He didn’t have to look hard to know that she was worried about him. That made exactly one of them and she didn’t need that weight on her. Something like care urged him to prevent that and he nodded. He mulled over her question as he continued to walk in no particular direction. “Y’know...Guess I saw so many gators that I just kinda stuck to them, but...they got any, uh, red pandas here? Or somethin’. Always hear about ‘em…”

Nell was very much a night crawler, just as her sisters were, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t also happy to see the sun. Mostly because of her garden. Sure— she didn’t entirely know what she was going to do with the possibly ridiculous amount of UV lamps she’d bought during the darkness, but at least her plants would be happier with the natural light. Watching as the little pill passed his mouth, she bit the inside of her cheek. Did he not want to take the potion? He had said he hadn’t tried it yet. Was there something wrong with it? “Did the potion uh- not work?” She didn’t want to be overbearing, but she also didn’t want him feeling like there was a man pounding an anvil inside his head during all hours of the day. Despite that, she pulled her phone out perhaps a bit too quickly as she retrieved the picture of Greg, holding it up for his consideration, the new grin also showing a hint of pride in its depths. “This is him! And it’s after his promotion, of course. Directly after. He has a name plaque and everything, now.” Nell made a mental note to remind herself that the picture she’d shown Nic had been of Greg as a Golden Retriever. Greg often liked to switch dog breeds which...would obviously raise some questions with people who didn’t know he was a demon if she didn’t keep up appearances. “I like to think Rot Gut and Nic have a pretty similar ring to them,” she offered with a shrug of her shoulders, a glint of amusement in her eye as she looked up to him. At least he smiled, though. That was something, right? The next time she spoke, it was with a seriousness that was so extreme, it almost made her words comical. “Red pandas are, quite literally, some of the cutest creatures in the world. We’re going to see them now,” she finished before reaching out to grab his forearm in an attempt to drag him towards the appropriate exhibit. 

Nicodemus glanced over at Nell, the pill leaving a bad aftertaste in his mouth. He considered whether or not he should have stayed back. But he’d promised Nell and he didn’t want to be alone. A thought that rang alarm in the hollow of his chest. “No. It ain’t that. There’s nothin’ wrong with it,” he said with a shake of his head. The fact that he hadn’t tried it yet seemed to bother her. “It’s like, uh, I’ve been runnin’ on instinct the last few days. It’s, uh, instinct to go for the pills…” He trailed off as she pulled up a picture of the dog with a person name and leaned forward to look. “I’ll drink it when I get back. Y’know, that dog looks more fuckin’ professional than I ever have. Good on him for gettin’ a job and shit,” he muttered, almost grumbly. He wasn’t a dog person. Wasn’t much of any kind of animal person, save for the critters he spent time with in the swamps. But if Greg was Nell’s dog, maybe he wasn’t so bad. “Probably gonna get you to start doin’ his taxes, you know.” It was easier to talk about dog taxes and not the way the sun made his eyes hurt or the pain that still seared the back of his hand. Or maybe it was the memory of it that seared. He felt like his insides were rotting out. Either due to lack of any proper nutrition or because his body had been puppeteered by a goddamn squid. It was a toss up. He huffed. “Yeah, you ain’t wrong.” Then she was deadly serious and he was being pulled full force, animals and exhibits just sideline blurs. Cute wasn’t a word he would use to describe anything in a serious manner. Facetiously, yes, absolutely. But then there was a red panda tumbling off a log less than five feet in front of him and his eyes started to get watery, his throat tight. “Yeah, they’re...alright,” he said, voice light as he finally found it and looked between Nell and the pandas. “They’re bigger than I thought they’d be...”

Nell nodded along with his words, as if trying to also convince herself that there was nothing wrong with the potion. Instinct made sense, right? “Is that ‘cause of the uh- troubled sleep and stuff?” She’d never been all that accomplished at more emotional talks, but...she wanted to help, even if she was shit at it. Seeing Nic so downtrodden- it was like watching your father cry for the first time, realizing that a man you built up to be unbreakable and ever-strong was only human in the way everyone else was. Today was meant to be happy but— maybe they needed to work past all the heavier things in order to break through to the lighter times. Thankfully, it seemed they still had managed to hold onto a smidgen of the silly talk. “He’s already making more money than me which- is not exactly something to sneeze at, thank you. I’m thinking I’ll ask him to set me up with a trust fund, soon. Then I can just live off that for the rest of my life.” Did Nell know how trust funds worked? No. Did she particularly care? Absolutely not. The red pandas, as always, were utterly adorable, and Nell watched them with a growing smile of her own. How was it that such a silly little creature could make her mind go silent for a few, long moments? Make her forget everything that was going wrong in White Crest, her life, her family. Parts of it were quick to come crashing back as she picked up on the change in Nic’s tone, concern gripping her features once again. “I- they are, aren’t they? I wish I could- pick one up and put it in my pocket.” What the hell was she saying? No doubt these words were spurred on by her uncertainty when it came to what emotion was entering his voice. 

His gaze cut sideways at Nell and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said slowly. He wasn’t much for words but he couldn’t weigh the benefits of trusting anything else over his mouth. Trust didn’t come easy to Nicodemus or most people like him. But trusting Nell, in that moment, did. “I, uh, get these headaches. Hunters got these...senses, y’know? Mine ain’t all...really right. Haven’t been since I left home. And then all this other shit…” He raised a hand vaguely before it fell to his side again. Being in White Crest had pulled more words out of him than most other places. So used to the cut and dry exchange of just pure business. Talking to Nell was like pulling something not yet dead out of the dirt. Dusting it off. Showing it the sun again. He tried to warm up but he couldn’t. It would take time. It would take work. One of which was never guaranteed. What was guaranteed was that he could laugh, even just a breath of one, at dog nonsense. It was something slim, just enough to grab onto. “Gonna be a trust fund kid, huh? Start wearing cardigans and boat shoes when you ain’t even got a yacht?” His voice was coming back to him. It didn’t sound like a stranger’s the more he spoke. The red pandas tumbled over each other. Stretched out lazily in the newly returned sun. Unbothered. Unfettered to the world and its issues. They didn’t care how the sun came back, just that it did. He reckoned most of the town was the same way. And if he hadn’t been compelled, he might have been the same way. But he did care and that care caught like a fish hook in his neck. He would pull it out. One day. Maybe soon. He looked over at Nell with a slow blink. Met her concerned eyes with his bloodshot ones. Cracked but not broken. “What’s stoppin’ you? Greg could use a business partner.” He glanced at the map, blinked the slight glaze from his eyes. “D’you wanna go to the, uh, gators? I’ll tell you what happened.”

Nell nodded with Nic’s words before saying, “No, yeah I just-” The answer he’d given wasn’t really the one she’d been looking for, having told her mom about the Hunter headaches when she’d made the little potion. But she didn’t want to push Nic just yet as she decided to bite her tongue. “Yeah,” she simply finished, wanting to let him have this moment before the rain clouds that seemed to be gathering over their conversation decided to pour down. Though the sun was still bright about them, she couldn't help but feel a shadow had still been cast, though it was unseen to them, only felt in their words and movements. Greg was much easier to talk about anyway. “That’s the plan. He won’t want for a single thing in his entire life. I’m planning on getting him a nice couple of polos as soon as I get home. The yacht’s in the mail.” she said wryly, faking indignance at the exposure of her obvious lack of boat. The red pandas were too cute to ignore for long, and Nell turned back to them with a softer grin, watching them carelessly move about their enclosure. Sure, some might consider them to be held within a cage, but at least it kept them safe....didn’t it? There were times Nell wished she could put her own friends in safe places such as this, even though she abhorred whenever anyone tried to do it to her. The small smile grew as Nic spoke of a potential red panda escapade. “I don’t know— wouldn’t you rather have one of the gators? I feel like they’d notice if we took two animals.” With that she led the way to the alligators exhibit, glad to find them sunning themselves in the new sun. “You don’t- you know you don’t have to tell me,” she said, not wanting him to feel pressured. “But I just- if you want to...I’m glad to be...here for it...for you.”

“I’ll take it when I get back,” Nicodemus said as he shifted on his feet. His eyes felt both dry and wet, his muscles ached beyond anything, but he kept standing. Kept awake and breathing. “Promise, Nell.” As much of a side-eye as he gave most magic and their sometimes loose or deliberate connection with demons, he trusted Nell. If she wanted to kill him through some kind of witchcraft or wizardry, she would have done it. The conversation shifted back to the dog and he cracked a smile, let the light come through for even a moment. “Hell, gonna pay his way into Harvard and everythin’? That’s the real American, y’know,” he chuckled, just as amused as he had been when she first showed him the dog. “Can’t believe a fuckin’ dog’s gonna have a yacht before I do…” His voice devolved into a messy, grumbled garble of disgruntled sound. She looked happy, looking at the pandas and the simplicity they had. They had been through a hell of a lot over the last couple months, hadn’t they? Shit from the sea, town madness, the usual violence. She had quite literally forced her way into his self, headfirst into a dumpster of all things, but he hadn’t shut it on her. And he was...glad for it. More than that, but he didn’t have the word for it and hell if he’d say it. “You got a point. Don’t know shit about raisin’ a panda,” he admitted. “But gators? Reckon we got a better chance with that one. Get ‘em a tie too.” He scoffed and walked by her. Adjusted the bandage he had wrapped around his hand. The skin felt tender but he didn’t wince as it rubbed against wounded skin. When they came to the front of the gator exhibit, he breathed easier. It was such a strange thing to be comforted by creatures that inspired little to no comfort in others. But he did. They had been there for him at a time when nothing was. And now Nell was there, with him, and that hit him square in the chest. “Nah, want to,” he said as he looked at her. “Not wantin’ to keep it up here.” He tapped at his head. Now that it was his again, he would do as he wanted. Hell, they were both bad at this, weren’t they? He about started laughing, if only to keep from crying. It didn’t last long and he took in a heavy, shaking breath. “I wasn’t, uh, myself, y’know? Somethin’ crawled up inside my head and just took over. Somethin’ with the lake and the sun, fuck if I know. It’s gone now,” he said quietly. Didn’t acknowledge the strange hole it left. “But it--I hurt people, Nell. I didn’t want to. But I’m me now and that shit don’t just...leave.” He paused and took a moment to settle into the bench. He looked at the ground. “It’s me now though. It is. And I’m...Glad. That you’re here.” He wound his hands together, looked at her. “That, uh, we’re here. It’s a lot to put on you, I get that, but I can’t...just keep it locked up top. Much as I want to.”

Nell was more than content with the promise, even though she was trying her best not to be like Bea in moments like these. She knew how infuriating someone looking over your shoulder could be, but this was different...right? Either way, she was glad to hear the words come from Nic, and she simply nodded in return, giving him a small, “Thank you.” It would help put her at least a portion of her mind at rest, one less thing to worry about when it came to those she cared for...even if she didn’t remember making the active decision to care for Nic. Yes, she’d wanted his approval, his time, his lessons, but everything else that had come along with those? The little thread that seemed to connect her to him just as it connected her to other people she’d met after moving back to White Crest? It was there, and she knew it. Somewhere along the way he’d gone from fascination and prestige to becoming fleshed out into a real person, not just something for her to seek the attention of, but someone she wanted to give to in return. She played with dropping the conversation of Greg once more, but decided to keep it. Maybe it’d bring balance to this, and a sense of normalcy when everything was decidedly...abnormal. “Any Ivy League will do. But I know Harvard has definitely been eyeing him. You know he’d be a legacy there. After all, I graduated from there back in ‘78. He’s just a red-blooded, American lad.” Her smile was still present while she continued on. “A tie to match Greg’s. Business partners, indeed.” Watching as he fixed the bandage, she told herself not to nag anymore, knowing he was a grown man and could most likely take care of himself, even if she wanted to offer some sort of healing salve from her mom. Then it was time for silence to fall over her, not wanting to interrupt as Nic went on with whatever it was he needed to tell her. If he needed to get it out, she was going to let him do it unimpeded. As each word fell, her heart sank, knowing perhaps a little too well the feeling of having a hand in pain you wanted no part of. Of course, it had never been against her will. “It...possessed you?” was the first thing she asked, her natural curiosity and need to help already trying to figure everything out. If she really wanted to help Nic, she first had to understand. And whoever it was that had put Nic through this would certainly pay, whether it be with their blood, life, or both. “It wasn’t you,” was her next, reflexive response. “You didn’t choose that. You know that, right?” She didn’t hesitate to sit herself next to him face etched with concern as she watched. “It sucks, though.” What else could she say? Sorry? Nell knew from experience that the empty words didn’t do shit to erase anything, to make the thoughts do away. “It fucking sucks, and you don’t deserve it. To have to think about it- to be saddled with...the knowledge. The memories.” He was glad she was here? Already she could feel a warmth blossoming in her heart despite the heavy topic, wondering when he’d become such an important figure in her life. “I’m glad, too. That I’m here...with you.” Her head shook without hesitation. “No- that’s what...friends are for, isn’t it?” Were they friends now? It didn’t feel like exactly the right word, but what else would they be? “That’s what I’m for. To be here with you or for you or...whatever you might need. You know- if it helps...keeping busy always made me feel better. And- and-” she teetered on the edge of her next words, uncertain whether she should reveal all her to Nic just yet. But she trusted him, that much she knew. Perhaps more than she’d come to realize. “I could maybe help. Make sure it doesn’t come after you again.”

He had given her his word and didn’t say much after it. It would be enough. Giving his word meant something different in White Crest. Nicodemus didn’t give it away freely or easily, never quite had before. It wasn’t weighted in money or reward. There wasn’t a price point that needed to be reached before he gave it. Words like that didn’t apply to promising Nell. It was weighted in blood and for once, for him, blood meant something. It was a struggle to acknowledge it and his hands wound, calloused fingers caged together. A fear rose up in him, fingers wrapped around bone as it settled against his spine. Rested its head on his weary shoulders and waited. Everything meant something different in White Crest. He was a stranger in a strangeland. Or he had been. He wasn’t anymore. He couldn’t call himself that when he made a simple promise to Penelope Vural. Strangers didn’t do that. Flitting across the state lines, chasing after creatures from dusk until dawn. More a phantom than a man. People knew his name, knew him enough to tell when things weren’t right. Being made tangible was painful. Regrowing flesh and blood and bone to become solid again. Such things exhausted but also revealed. Sitting by Nell, speaking with her, laughing about dogs in ties. It was as human as human could be. As human as he likely had ever been in forty years of existence. “‘78, huh? Dog’ll write one hell of a tell-all book about this.” His eyes traced the grooves in the cemented pathway underneath his boots. A worm was making its way along, inch by inch. Nicodemus traced the lines of his uncovered palm absently, face neutral and eyes half-open. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It did. Didn’t sleep, woke up in weird fuckin’ places. Time was...I dunno, it just wasn’t.” He picked his head up by a fraction and looked at her as she spoke. He knew it wasn’t him, but what he was made it a hell of a lot easier for the...squid, demon, whatever the fuck, to get the job started. It was what it was but he didn’t make anything feel...less than what it did. He made room for her as she sat, his side pressed against the armrest. “I do, yeah. Wouldn’t have done any of it otherwise.” Except for killing Karen when Jeff came near under fire. That he still would have done. Most likely. He huffed a laugh through his nose. If it had been Nell, he would have done it too. “Yeah, shit fuckin’ sucks, but it’s, uh, done now,” he said as he sat back up and looked at the gators that floated in the murky water. “Just gotta...fuckin’ carry it now. All I can do, y’know?” Carry it. Find a space atop everything else and strap it in. Keep walking. Keep running. He couldn’t help the deep furrowing of his brow or the confusion that came in at his eyes. Out of some nervous reaction or complete social uncertainty, he started to laugh. A quiet, faint sound. Strained. “Partners ain’t cuttin’ it anymore, huh? We friends now?” His voice trembled in the hollows. Echoed louder in his ears than it should have. “You, uh, too. Here for you and all that shit.” The hunter leaned forward and turned his head away slightly, eyes obscured. His chest compressed. The movements of his fingers against his palm increased until he finally clenched them together. He shook his head. Glanced up. His vision watered down. He took in a heavy breath before he looked at her again. “How’d you mean, Nell?”

Nell should know that a Hunter didn’t make promises lightly, after all she didn’t these days, either— not with all the fae running around White Crest. But beyond that it meant even more coming from Nic, a man she hadn’t even known a few months ago, a guiding force in the form of a person she hadn’t even known she’d been looking for, even if the craving for it had been there. And it had been long for her as well, hadn’t it? Travelling the world didn’t exactly make for long term friendships. She’d barely been in places more than a week before having to set off again. Even before that, people had been few and far between, not many willing to stick around for the storm that was Penelope Vural. So even though she wasn't entirely sure when or where it had come from, she wasn’t going to let this go. “I hope he does,” she added in a softer tone, emotion unexpectedly gripping the funnier portion of their conversation as well, apparently taking no prisoners today. “It’ll just add even more onto the money pile.” One of the gators lumbered into the water, as if taking a break from the heat of the sun for a moment piling against another of the large reptiles, blissfully unaware of the unfolding conversation happening outside its exhibit. “Yeah. Yeah,” she echoed almost to herself, knowing that the only way out was forward. “At least you don’t...have to carry it alone though, right?” The words were tentative, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds as she offered to shoulder some of the burden, to make sure he didn’t get crushed beneath the weight of it all. In the quietness of the moment, her self-conscious nature when it came to friends and the like was quick to find her, the usual fire that colored her words dimmed by the gravity of this all, making it impossible for it to outshine some of her insecurities. “I mean- I just- if you want to be friends,” she seemed to backtrack for a moment, as if worried she was about to be denied or rejected. For a beautiful minute the fears were wiped aside in the confirmation that they’d have one another in the coming weeks, months, maybe even years if she was so incredibly lucky. However just as quickly as it had come, it departed, and her eyes fell to her hands, now restless in her lap as that same fear of abandonment began to metastasize, wondering whether he’d accept the proposal of friendship, but toss it aside in the next breath once she revealed her actual nature. “I can help because- well- you might have already suspected-” she started, as if gearing herself up. Why could she face down a Pricolici without so much as blinking an eye, but it was things like this that made her feel small and helpless? “I’m um- you know- well- magic. I can do magic.” And then, a little quieter, “A witch.”

“Nah, I ‘spose I don’t.” Nicodemus said, confusion twined loosely around his voice. He had resigned himself to going it alone. Any legacy he made would be his own. No family name attached. No burdens. Wishful thinking. That shit didn’t leave. He could leave, wander, but that never did. But it didn’t have to be heavy. He had to be realistic about these kinda things. The slightest step above nihilism. What was that? Progress? Hell, there must have been something in White Crest’s water. He looked out at the alligators. “Sure I do,” he muttered quickly, as if it were the easiest thing. Comparatively, it was. “Ain’t sayin’ no.” The hesitation from Nell kept his eyes forward. Didn’t want to risk her cutting herself off. Whatever it was, he understood. It was never easy to gut yourself and show it. Easier to gut others than take honesty to yourself. Magic. His brow twitched. “Huh.” Was all he said for a moment. It made sense. The stake that had conveniently appeared when they dealt with Lugosi. The karkinoid she had...yeeted herself through, in her words. It wasn’t something he personally liked to deal with. Superstition, or maybe just that thin line between magic and something demonic. Habitual thinking that he couldn’t quite shake. While the ‘demons’ his grandfather had him gift a quick death to hadn’t all been demons as the books knew them, the thought still hovered over him. He couldn’t stop that slight lurch in his gut. The hunter stopped looking at the alligators. Instead, he looked at Nell. “A witch,” he repeated. And she was telling him, a hunter, that. The gravity wasn’t lost on him. It pressed down. She trusted him. Him. Not even when he hardly trusted himself. “Yeah...Yeah, that makes a hell of a lot of sense. I’d appreciate it.” A cold wind passed over, through the spaces between his fingers. He shifted slightly. Angled himself toward Nell, his expression serious. “I can help you too. If anyone--” He paused to take in a breath. It shook. Goddamn it. That blood shiver from before returned. His gaze hardened. Caring was new to him, but if he could liken it to something... “If anyone tries to hurt you, Nell.” Anyone like me. He huffed out a breath and looked away. He started to fidget. “New to this fuckin’ shit,” he said, not elaborating on what this fuckin’ shit was. She was important to him. It was simple as that. “But I wanna try.”

The confusion in Nic’s voice tugged painfully at Nell’s heartstrings, recognizing that tone of voice when she herself had used it on occasions. Just how isolated did Nic feel if the concept of people being there for him was so foreign? But maybe his acceptance of her words was hope blossoming before her very eyes. Next was his confirmation of being friends, and a grin nearly as bright as the recently reappeared sun broke over her face. To think that not only she’d gained a friend, but he had as well. Even though the road might have been lonely, it didn’t mean one had to be utterly alone on it. “Friends it is, then.” Nell released the breath she’d been holding, waiting for Nic to say something about her revelation when it came to being a witch. Relief was quick to wash over when he seemed to accept the news with little fanfare or condemnation, honestly relieved that his reaction seemed at least neutral. That was much better than negative. “Perfect,” she simply said, glad to hear that she’d get to help protect her friend. “We can get started right after the zoo. They won’t come near you again if I can help it.” What she hadn’t been expecting was Nic’s nearly echoing words, offering her shelter and safety should she need it, too. And so in that moment, the realization that he cared enough to offer her such a gift was overwhelming, her throat tightening as it was her turn to focus on the alligators, and try not to be embarrassingly emotional. “Thank you, Nic.” They were simple words, but the only ones she could think to say. “Seriously...thank you.” But perhaps the words on their own were more effective than any others that could have been flowery or polished. After all, the two little words held what she most wanted to convey to Nic in those moments. Gratitude for all he was offering her, and all he’d already given her. “We’ve got each other, now. And we can figure it out together.”

[likeamattoutofhell-archive]

Money - Alain & Matty

Alain and Matty do some dirty business, the Babineaux dogs are good boys, a certain katana-wielding slayer-killer gets lightly roasted... and sold out, for cash. You know what Pink Floyd had to say about that stuff.

The sun had disappeared west of White Crest, signing the beginning of Alain's extra hours. And yet, he was not on his way to the nearest mausoleum tonight. Alone in his garage, he was taking care of a client's bike as he waited for Dave's contact to appear. Music played on the radio although he was not paying too much attention to it. His thoughts were elsewhere. Asking him to trust a vampire was really asking him a lot, and if he had not known Dave for a long long time, he would have never contacted the damn undead monster which was about to arrive anytime. At least, that was if the damn thing was able to respect a set date for a meeting. 

Tidying up his workspace, the hunter then moved the bike back to the side and threw his glove on the workbench, picked up his phone and headed to his office to reheat his dinner. He replied to Evelyn's texts, took the lasagna out of the microwave oven and headed to his desk. Orion's snout reached for his owner’s hand, but was dismissed to his basket. Alain knew too well that this was only a ploy to get a bite of his food. “You have food in your bowl,” sitting at his desk, he kept the door to his office open to have his eyes on the front door. He could have gone to the vampire’s place, but knowing where he lived was enough information, and he didn’t care much for visiting it, although he was intrigued. Matty, if this was even his real name, did not sound anything like usual vampires : full of pride, arrogant, like the world was owed to them just like the gift of immortality was. Seeing someone approaching from where he stood, the hunter called out “come in,” and pushed away his half empty plate.

Oh, this was a bad idea. Not that said idea was his. Obviously. Matty slunk along through the dark, well past regretting… a lot of things. Not that that mattered much, when you were not just stuck, but entirely fucked, between a rock and a hard place. Or a leech and a slayer, as the case was. But. If this all went how it sensibly ought to, there’d be no going wrong, exactly. Would there? One less scary motherfucker in White Crest. One less scary motherfucker in White Crest who knew way too much about Matty for his personal comfort, seriously. At least he could add… some garage, to what he knew about this guy. Garage Babineaux. A detail to throw that old bastard’s way, when the time came. Remained to be seen if this dude was Babineaux himself, but. Who the fuck else but the owner would be hanging around a place like this, after closing time? 

Someone who had the imagination to look around a garage and see plenty of opportunities to be an intimidating son of a bitch, maybe. Opportunities like monkey wrenches, power-lifts, tire irons, and blowtorches. All solid choices, so far as scare tactics went. 

As were the fuckin’ dogs. Catching the invitation, Matty pushed himself into the glow of the garage, and stiffened. German Shepherds. Two. Oh, no. No, thank you. With a thick, nervous swallow, he dragged his eyes up to the guy sitting between them. “Uh. Hi.” God, he hadn’t been this close to one of those damn dogs since… a long fuckin’ time, but. Still. Matty inched nearer, swayed to a stop. He’d come sober. Not, like, all the way. Obviously. But as much as he could stand. Functionally on edge. “We’ve - we have a mutual friend, right?” Friend, yeah. “Dave? Just… making sure.”

Sitting back in his chair, Alain looked at the vampire, starting by looking at their hands, then their face. Only after this did he take time to take into account the man’s general appearance. Not exactly what one would expect from your stereotypical vampire. Good for him, because he hated those even more. Standing up from his office chair, he left his office to stand in the workshop, a couple meters apart from the vampire. The dogs followed behind, although they were more curious than in the mood for a fight, even if they could not hear a heartbeat coming from the vampire, and had been trained to lunge at such monsters. Alain had trained them for this, and they were ready for his order, although such an order would not come, not tonight. He had no interest in killing Matty, as long as he proved to be useful.  

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the hunter remained silent for a couple more seconds, a frown appearing on his face right as he started talking: We’ve - we have a mutual friend, right? Dave? Just… making sure. The odds of Alain being a different person were low, weren’t they? Instead of replying, he sighed and blinked slowly. Right. “Do you have what I asked ?” Motioning toward a paper bag on the workbench, he then crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Yeah, that had been… yeah. Stupid question. Seriously off chance this wasn’t the dude he was after. But if he was gonna get punked - and he had been, before - might as well get it over with quick. Not that there was much Matty could hope to do but play through, when these douchebags felt like having a bit of fun. A lifeline was a lifeline, and shit as it was, that’s what the hunters of White Crest amounted to: blood he didn’t have to kill for, hurt for, bite for. Or, well. The means to get it, in theory. Fuck, why couldn’t this asshole have just gone down to the meat counter, or something? Even that was better than having to hit the Night Market himself, knowing how many slayers were watching. And how many things like him were skulking around, down there. 

 Speaking of. He dipped a hand into his back pocket, and waved a bit of paper, folded up. “Mhm. Took some looking, man. Slick son of a bitch, this guy.” Not wrong. Matty had stayed put, as the slayer moved. And the dogs. He hesitated, then took a cautious step towards the bench, his payment. “You mind if I, uh, count that out, before we get down to the details?” 

“Huh uh,” at the vampire’s request to count the money, Alain sighed and blew heavily through his nose. “If I wanted to screw you, you’d be dead already,” he commented, raising his eyebrows as he looked to the ceiling. “But suit yourself,” taking a seat on the workbench, he looked down at his two dogs and smiled at them, tapping his leg to get them to approach him. 

"You know, vampires usually don't sell out their own kind," you could not trust them, but within their species, they usually were knit together and this was what made hunting them so hard sometimes. If newly made vampires were easy to dust, as most of them never had to get in a fight in their whole human life, the same couldn't be said about the older ones and while Alain could enjoy a fight, he'd rather have it happen at the Silver Bullet than in a cemetery.  Killing vampires was not fun, and he treated it as such. Whoever was responsible for killing those slayers would know the same fate as many vampires before him. This much he knew.

Alain glanced over at the vampire and tilted his head. "Do hunters usually pay you in blood?" If so, he really would have to have a word with Dave, although nothing stopped him from dusting dear Matty once he would be done with the other vampire. "So, those pieces of information ?"

You’d be dead already. They always said that kinda thing. As if it was any comfort, at all, come on. As if his new pal, here, wasn’t plenty likely to stake him for the hell of it, when this was done. But. Not a point he was about to make. “Right. Totally.” Matty threw a fragile smile across the garage, and helped himself to the envelope. Counting fast. Because yeah, it fuckin’ suited him. Bad enough this bastard had dicked him around about the price, in the first place - he didn’t want to walk away underpaid, to boot. Blood didn’t come cheap.  

Neither did his extremely dangerous so-called job. A dry, sour sort of laugh shook out of him, there, as Babineaux (presumably, anyway) started to poke. No, vampires didn’t tend to do what he did. They tended to chew open your neck and drink you dead. “Yeah, well. The fuck do I owe those freaks, huh?” The money looked to be all there, but. He’d be damned if he didn’t go all the way through, just to be sure. Tossing a bit of hair out of his face, Matty hazarded a glance at this slayer, and his dogs. “And yeah, they do. That’s kinda the whole idea? The deal. I eat, stay outta trouble, and save you people some legwork. It’s symbiotic, or whatever. Everybody comes out better off.” Like hell he was gonna mention that more than a few of them were happy to short the snacks, and make up the difference with substances. Which worked out, most of the time, but… didn’t seem likely to earn him any points, here. 

He waited on the delivery until he was sure, to the last bill - not taking his time, exactly, but. Not about to miscount. But, there it was. To the dollar. “Alright. So. You’re looking for this.” Matty dipped two fingers into his back pocket, holding up a sharp sketch. That motherfucker’s face, from the alley, as clear as he could remember it. “Don’t have a phone, or whatever, so. Best I could do, media-wise.” He set the drawing down the bench, and took a step back. Liked his distance. “He’s old, like I said. Enough that he can go to mist, real quick. Likes to use that, in a fight. And a - a fuckin’, you know…” what were they called, even? “A samurai sword, or whatever. Put that right through Evgeni Sidorov’s chest, I saw it. If you knew him.” Possible he hadn’t. Hunters were in a niche business, sure, but. White Crest was crawling with these fuckers. Understandably. “Your guy has something he uses to break the bodies down, after he’s done. But, first, he takes their teeth. Yeah.” Matty reached up, pushing his upper lip aside with a thumb, indicating the canines. “Big on souvenirs. Sounds like he’s got a real pile of the things. And he jogs. At Hanging Rock. Around eight, most nights.” Sliding a little further away, Matty watched the shepherds, watched Babineaux. “Definitely this Friday. Heard him talking, at Teeth. Seems like the kinda dude to keep a pretty tight schedule. Places to be, slayers to melt, I guess.” Another slinking step, towards the door. “Speaking, uh, of which, I should… get going. If we’re cool.” As cool as they could possibly be. So. Asphalt in August, in, say. Houston, maybe. 

“Or you could feed on animals like a normal person? Those blood bags should be going to humans who need them. People don’t donate blood to save dead people like yourself,” he looked at Matty, and his nose scrunched up just a little as he kept staring at him. If Alain was more than aware that animal blood was not exactly as suitable as human blood, he did not care much about it. Even if the “feeding on human beings and causing them harm” part was bad enough, it was the fact that they could spread their disease to others that made them such a big problem to him. Moreover, some vampires had their heads so far up their asses that they considered becoming one of them to be a gift, a blessing. 

“You know, some of us don’t have an eternity to spend on Earth,” he commented once Matty was, at last, done counting his payment. Picking up the piece of paper from the bench, he raised an eyebrow. Wow. Even if the drawing was far from a bad one, was this truly the best he could do? Not that it mattered much what the fella looked like. He had never needed photos to know if someone was a vampire or not. And so, he did not comment, and instead listened to what he had to tell. Still, at the mention of samurai swords, he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “It’s called a katana,” he corrected him. This wasn’t the reason why he had laughed. The idea of someone who looked far from Japanese, owning such a sword, sounded extremely tacky to his ears. “How original,” another comment. Still, he had taken note of the mist. This part worried him more than the fact that this vampire seemed to idealize samurais. Evgeni. The name sounded familiar. He had heard it before, right after that hunter disappeared. He never spoke with that guy, but that did not change a thing. Vampires had no business killing slayers, no right to defend themselves. They were abominations, and they had to be destroyed, each and everyone of them. “Souvenirs, huh?” Wouldn’t be the first or the last vampire to feel like they could do whatever they wanted to their victims. “Right.” He rubbed his hands, fingers stretched out. That part about Hanging rock and schedules screamed coup monté but he did not make any comments. He half expected Matty to tell me to show exactly at 3am next. Alone. With no weapons. Surely he would have to be careful, but this would hardly be his first time against an old vampire like that one, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve if things didn't go quite as planned. “Of course. Places to be, people to scare and harm,” he waved in the vampire’s direction idly. “If this goes well, I’ll see you soon. And if this goes wrong, you won’t see me at all.”

God, he could kiss Nic. If he weren’t, you know. A hunter, and generally terrifying. But - at least he didn’t pull this kinda shit. Like Matty didn’t know. Like he didn’t care. His eyes would’ve rolled, if they weren’t too busy keeping a sharp watch on this slayer, over here. “You think they stretch to blood bags? Fuck, man. Comes in a jar, half the time. Outta morgues, or some shit, I don’t know…” The other half, well. Yeah. Blood, for the living. Feeding the dead. The only reason he didn’t crumple more, under the weight of that, was - there just wasn’t much left to wring out of him, at this point. “I take what I get, alright?” Sounded tired, there. Because he was. Didn’t matter that none of it was his fault. Didn’t matter to hunters, at least. 

He shot a look across his counting, still flicking through the envelope. No comment. Yeah, supposed-Babineaux did look like he was getting up there, for a guy in his, you know. Line of work. Which meant he was a special kind of scary. The sort with experience. Matty couldn’t speak to the ravages of time, or whatever; missed those, lucky him. So goddamn lucky, totally. The crack about the katana - apparently - sent a smirk sneaking over his face, a more than half-nervous snicker chasing after it. “Right? Like Blade, or some shit. Couldn’t believe it. Fuckin’ asshole…” No, he didn’t want to think about whatever this maniac went killing with. Didn’t see anything too obvious lying around - besides crowbars, maybe - and it was plain enough that the slayer was sharp as hell. Had to be, to make it to his age, doing what he did. So. Matty wasn’t going to push the intel-gathering. Instead, he nodded, vigorously. Souvenirs. It’d almost seemed like too much to throw in, but. Babineaux had bit enough, at least. Enough to seal the deal, and let him go. 

Not without a parting jab, but. Honestly. He’d heard worse. Thought worse. Appearances, though. These people, in Matty’s experience, they liked to see it hurt. And it still did, so. Wasn’t hard to cringe, believably, on his way out. “Something like that,” he sighed, thinly. Remembering that face, this place, the pant and whine of those shepherds, sprawled around their owner’s feet like… like something out of a painting, old-school hunting dogs, ready to lurch for a fox. Never seemed like a fair fight, but. As if fairness had ever been the point of anything like that. Of anything, period. Whatever this turned into, it wouldn’t be his problem. “Happy hunting, yeah?” Slipping through the door with a creak and a flat, tossed-off wave, Matty took a deep, shaky breath of the dark, and started walking. Fast.

[alaina-achilles]

i

((practice challenge - all prompts included here:))

Dreams.

Dreams are a funny thing, right? As a kid, you have so many dreams, I’m gonna be this when I grow up, I’m gonna wear this when this happens…

But how many do those actually happen?

I always feel like I dream differently than other people. Well, not all dreams, but some particular ones. And when I have a dream that I feel so strongly about (usually they are things that I actually dreamed about during my sleep), I write it down, in my dreams notebook. And well, there were so many of them.

Okay, I’m getting distracted again. So, right now, I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, screaming.

Because I have just graduated from college and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with. My. life!!

“Alaina?” Mila, my younger sister asks as she runs into my room and jumps onto my bed. “What happened? Who broke up?”

“The prince and Evie.” Another voice says and we both turn around to face our older sister.

“That’s old news, Lexi.” Mila drawls. “The Selection’s here already. Remind me again why aren’t you guys applying?”

Lexi rolls her eyes and pushes Mila to make space for herself on my bed.

“Well, back to the drama queen here. What happened?” Lexi asks, looking at me in confusion. Mila follows her gaze before they drop to the sheets of paper on my desk.

“What are those?” Mila asks in curiosity. She makes a move to take one of them, but I beat her to it by shoving them all into a messy pile.

“That.” I say as I shove them into a folder and slip it in between two books. “Is private.”

Well, they are actually job applications. I got a bit impulsive just now and flipped through my notebook of dreams, randomly selecting a few dreams, printed out the job application forms and filled them in.

“It’s not important.” I add as I see my sisters looking at me with narrowed eyes. “They were just weird random stuff that I did which I should’ve never done and I will throw them away tomorrow afternoon.”

“You can always be a teacher.” Lexi comments, knowing what I’m stressing about. “Mom likes her job a lot.”

“But I’m not Mom.” I point out as I flop onto the bed next to them. “I mean I love kids, but I just… I just can’t see myself being a teacher. Nor a lawyer like you.”

“I’m gonna be a psychologist. A therapist. A something related to psychology.” Mila replies happily. Sometimes I wish I was 13 as well. She turns around to face me. “And as a future psychologist, I think you should give writer another try. I mean you have published a book!!”

“But it’s not a best-seller. It’s only popular because it’s about a cliche bad boy story that many teenage girls like reading about.”

“That’s not true. I think there’s a lot of potential in your writing. You just need to have inspiration, write a good book and be famous.” Mila finishes with a smile.

“I think Mila’s got a point there. Just give it a go. One year. And if you aren’t writing a best-selling novel at the end of the year, just become a psychologist like Mila will be. You have the bachelor degree.” Lexi points out. I think about what my sisters said and decide they are right.

I’m gonna give writing another try.

----

“ALAINA LEXI MOM DAD COME NOW!” I hear Mila screaming from the bottom of the stairs. I put down my book in annoyance and go downstairs.

“What is it, honey?” Mom asks.

“THEY’RE GONNA ANNOUNCE THE SELECTION RESULTS!!!” Mila all but screams.

“Oooooh!” I cry. “I do wanna watch this! Dramaaa” I sing.

“I don’t know why you two are so excited for this! It’s not like any of us entered our name.” Lexi drawls, but sits down next to us on the couch while our parents sit down as well with an amused smile.

“I know many girls who did. I would like to see who’s gonna be on the tv screen for the next few months.” I explain, without looking away from the tv screen. The TV zooms to a closed up of the Prince who has a relaxed smile on his face that does not really reach his eyes. I don’t blame the guy though, it must be rough for him to jump from a supposedly stable relationship to well, 35 girls. Definitely glad I’m not the prince.

“Maybe it’ll be Delilah. She’s pretty and nice.” I comment.

“Or Faye. She’ll be quite the drama queen.” Lexi says.

“SHUSH!” Mila hisses. Lexi and I roll our eyes at each other and turn back to the screen.

“Miss Alaina Achilles of Atlin, Three.” The reporter announces.

Alain-

WAIT WHAT??

I vaguely hear my family screaming and questioning me, but I can’t hear anything except my heartbeat as I run into my room to check the folder that I meant to throw away a few afternoons ago but forgot.

It’s gone.

And then I scream.

Because, one of my dreams I made when I was six was to be in the Selection, to be a princess. And I thought it’d be fun to fill in the application a few days ago. BUT I NEVER MEANT TO SEND IT.

Then my eyes widen as I realize what must have happened.

“CAMILA DAISY ADRIANNA ACHILLES. I’M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH!” I yell as I run downstairs to kill my younger sister.

----

Four hours later. I’ve finally stopped screaming and attempting to murder my sister.

“How did you even do that, Mil? I thought you had to have your photo taken and everything?” Dad asks.

“Um… I kinda wrote a letter saying that Alaina isn’t feeling well and can’t make it to the applications and sent in a photo instead.” Mila explains in a small voice. “I swear I didn’t know they would allow that…”

“Wait…” I say suddenly. “If you sent out my application. SHIT MILA DID YOU SEND OUT ALL OF THOSE APPLICATIONS I FILLED OUT?”

“Language!” Mom cries but we all ignore her. It’s not like I ever swear anyways.

“Yeah… All six of them.” Mila admits in a quiet voice.

“AND THIS GETS EVEN BETTER!” I yell, throwing my arms into the air. “Do you know what those applications are? As an elf writing letters back to children for Santa Claus, and… and.. And… I don’t even want to rename the applications i filled out for. They were all crazy.” I mumble to myself. “Maybe the Selection is already the least craziest one.”

“See?” Mila says gleefully.

“Oh shut up, you little- I can’t even find any words to describe you. I’m not talking to you.” I yell in anger. With that I storm up the stairs into my room.

Oh no.

What has my little sister got me into?

----

By the time I am to leave Atlin, I am feeling slightly better about this whole thing. Thanks to Lexi and Dad. They convinced me that this will be a nice and unique experience and a change of scenery will probably give me more inspiration for my writing. And I finally get to be on a plane! I’ve never been on the plane before, not because we can’t afford it, but Mom has an extreme fear of flights. We usually went travelling in other means of transport.

My heart is pounding in my ears as I climb the stairs up to the plane. This is it. I’m going to be on a plane!

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, but I'm Sara Nguyen. I hope we can be plane buddies? And who knows maybe a permanent bud for the rest of the selection?" A voice says, interrupting my thoughts. I look up to see a girl smiling at me. She motions at my luggage. "Would you like a hand?"

My eyes widen as I realize she must be another selected. Wow, this is really happening, I’m really in the Selection. I quickly collect my thoughts and straighten my clothes to make sure it’s tidy. My parents have always taught us to be clean and tidy, especially in front of strangers.

“hi Sara! I’m Alaina Achilles! Sure I would love to!” I say to Sara with a bright smile. “and thanks for offering, but I think I got this!” I place the luggage to its place and sit down next to the empty spot next to Sara. I look at the two girls opposite to us, one is falling asleep and the other barely acknowledges us. Well, I guess not every Selected is nice. So I turn to Sara instead, she seems nice. “Have you ever been on a plane before?”

She tells me about the times she’s travelled and when she learns that this is my first time, she surprises me again by offering her hand for me to squeeze.

“I-“ l begin as I look at Sara’s hand hesitantly. “I mean thats very nice of you bu-“ the plane starts to move and my eyes start to widen and immediately reach forward to squeeze Sara’s hand. She is nice enough to pretend not to see my hesitation and just let me hold her hand while she talks me through the take off. I like this girl. I decide.

“Thanks. But you’re right, I’m glad I got on this plane! At least now I have a new friend?” I ask. I have never been alone without at least one of my sisters with me before and I know I will miss them very much.

"Just holler my name and I'll be there for anything. I've got tips for most things. If not I'll create one on the spot." Sara answers with a nod. I do a happy dance internally. "I think we are indeed friends. After all it would be rather awkward if two strangers held hands. Either way I'm glad we both get to be on the same flight." She proceeds to tell me about her favorite things about being on a plane and I look out the window and agree with her. The view is amazing! We chat more about the flying experience and being the writer I was, I tell her how lovely it’ll be to be able to write about this experience. My new friend immediately offers me her notebook, but I once again decline politely. I know once I start writing, I’ll ignore everything around me and I don’t want to do this to Sara and miss the opportunity to get to know her. So I just tell her that I’ll do it later and enjoy the moment now.

Sara asks me if I’ve ever written anything that she might’ve read. I hesitate as I thought of my published book. A few years ago, at 16, I wrote a cliche bad boy story named “the Bad Boy Ruined my Project” and published it online. Because it’s cliche and about bad boys, teenage girls immediately took a liking to it and two years later, I got a publishing offer. I was ecstatic and accepted it. Ever since then, my agent has been pushing me to write a new book. And that’s when it became complicated. I was 16 when I wrote that cliche book and at 18, I’ve matured and changed and honestly, my book wasn’t that well-written, it just suited the taste of what teenage girls wanted to read. I’ve tried telling this to my agent and she kept telling me that was bullshit and if I wanted to be a famous writer, I had to please my readers. This is one of the reasons why I decided to start thinking of pursuing another character. I want to write things that I want to write, not just things people want me to write about.

But at the end of the day, I am grateful for my book and its success. At least it got me noticed.

So I tell her about my published book and she tells me about her career. Sara is to take over her dad’s company. Sensing this isn’t her favorite topic to talk about, I change the topic and ask her about siblings.

We quickly get into a fun conversation about siblings and I can already tell we’re going to be the best of friends in the Selection. Hopefully.

And for a while, I feel like I’m home again as we laugh and joke about the Selection. About how dramatic it will be with 35 girls under the same roof, going after the prince. About how weird it will be to have a brother joining the selection! (Sara said her brother almost joined HAHA). We are enjoying our conversation so much that I don’t even notice we have landed.

"We're here," Sara breathes out as we both look out the window. I smile as I take in the surroundings around me. I’ve been here before during a long road trip, but the airport is totally new to me.

“It’s beautiful!” I exclaim. Then, I turn to face Sara and put out a pinky. “Okay before we get off, let’s make a pact. Let’s promise to let this selection ruin our budding friendship.”

"It honestly is. Last time I came here I was 13 years old." Sara replies with a shake of her head. She  looks at me and smiles as she sticks her pinky out and links it with mine. "I promise that this selection will not ruin our friendship. You know you can call me by any nickname. I prefer them rather than Sara. My family call me bun."

And she manages to surprise me for the third time. Wow, a nickname. I can tell it’s not something she goes around letting people use.

I laugh and give her a hug. “Bun.” I say. “I love that. it’s so cute and so you!” We break away when one of the other girls clears her throat and tell us it’s time to go. I smile embarrassingly and roll my eyes at my new friend as we begin our journey to the palace. And because of Sara, I already feel a hundred times better about the selection. If all goes wrong, I know at least there will be one genuine friend who will go through all of this with me together.

"This is reserved for you. It's strange if someone else calls me that. So welcome to the Bun club." She says with a straight face but that didn't last long because she ends up giggling. She shakes her head as the other girls hurry us. "Well, let's see what is awaiting us." She smiles encouragingly at me.

I laugh at her words and nod. “Honored to be in the club.” I look at the other girls amusedly, as they check their makeup. “Let’s see!” I say as I pull my new friend along with me.

Sara nods as she links arms with me humming happily as we both get off the plane. "By any chance can I call you Al?" She pauses as she thinks about other nicknames. "Or Lai? Or Achi! Or do you already have a nickname you are comfortable with?”

I cock my head to the side and think about her question. I don’t really have a cute nickname or anything like hers.

“My sisters call me A.” I say with a giggle. “But Achi sounds so cool as well! Just call me either!” I add, like the sound of Achi.

"I'll call you, Achi then!" She replies with a grin. "It's my own personal nickname.”

“Achi.” I repeat quietly with a smile as I follow the guards escorting us.

Bun and Achi.

I like this combo.

----

Sara and I enter the palace together where we are immediately ushered into a huge room. People keep pushing me from stall to stall, asking me questions, but answering those questions themselves before I can even think of an answer. Luckily, they didn’t need to do too much to my hair and body as Mom always makes sure we are well um groomed. I only got my nails painted and fitted into a red dress. I’ve never seen myself as a red person, I’m usually more of baby pink, purple, white and dark colors. But I have to admit the red dress looks amazing.

I then proceeded to have an interview where I told them a bit about myself and then my makeover.

By the time, I finish the interview, I am so tired that all I want to do is go back to my room and read or talk to my sisters.

Oh wait, I’m still mad at Mila.

Oops.

====

((THANKS @itssara-oc​ ANA FOR THE WONDERFUL RP ♡ i love the connection between our two girls:))

[theskyeandsea]

Shifty Strangers || Ulfric & Skylar

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf

Location: Coffee Plus

Notes: While fueling up on coffee, Ulfric sniffs out another shifter in White Crest.

Ulfric wasn’t usually the type to frequent coffee shops, but after a long restless night of impromptu guard duty he needed some kind of pick-me-up to get through the day’s appointments at the parlor. It wouldn’t end well if he fell asleep with a needle in his hand. The line that waited for him inside Coffee Plus was both a curse and blessing. The former because the longer he had to wait the higher his chances of dozing off on the spot, the latter because it meant a higher chance of avoiding Celeste until she left for work. Though even if she did chances were her scent would still be waiting for him. After just one night, and even with his senses dulled so close to the new moon, it seemed everything in his trailer was contaminated with hunter stench. Hints of it even clung to him somehow, despite the copious amounts febreze he’d sprayed all over himself as soon as he left. 

Taking a spot at the end of the line, Ulfric caught wind of another scent that pulled him out of his funk about his own acquired funk. It radiated from the young woman in front of him, reminding him of the ocean and… blue gatorade? But there was a familiar animalistic undercurrent that provided an instant jolt to his awareness that no coffee could hope to achieve. Not a wolf, but close enough to be comforting after the strange series of events he’d just been through. “Hey,” He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, using the beat before she turned around to face him to scramble together an excuse to talk to her. “Uh... would you recommend anything off the menu here? I’d usually only just go for a black coffee. I’m a creature of habit, you know how it is. But sometimes a change can be nice, right? I feel like trying something different before my shift.” It wasn’t the best or most subtle icebreaker, but hey, he was tired, and if she caught on maybe he could warn her about the beast hunters that were circling over White Crest like vultures. Or at least, he could put off having to face the hunter in his own home for a while longer. 

Coffee Plus was more crowded than usual, which was honestly really good to see. It was cool that so many people in town liked to support their local businesses. And, even though she had her thermos and coffee machine, Skylar had decided to treat herself to a nice Americano from the shop. Waiting in line, she scrolled through her phone, a small frown crossing her face as she realized that Remmy and Morgan hadn’t responded to her. Had something happened? Mmmmm, no, they were probably fine. Maybe they were busy. Maybe the two of them decided to go and enjoy the sunshine, somewhere safely away from the ghost that was threatening Morgan. They were fine. She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued to wait in line patiently. As she waited, Skylar started slightly when someone gently tapped her shoulder. A tall bearded man with tattoos-- had she done something wrong? She didn’t think she cut in front of him. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I really only get espresso here, so it’s really not that different from a drip coffee.” She said, his deliberate intonation going over her head. “But, they use really high quality roasts here, so it should be good no matter what you choose.” 

“Espresso’s not a bad idea. If a shot of caffeine’s what you’re after why complicate that?” Ulfric shrugged, doing his best to hide his disappointment at what seemed to be a rebuff of their shared status. Did she not know what she was? It seemed unlikely, the recently transformed usually carried a much stronger aura of panic around them. If this young woman had recently undergone an unexpected evolutionary upgrade she was handling it remarkably well. Then again her response didn’t seem terse enough for her to be one of those in the self-loathing, deep-in-denial, human-passing crowd.  “Crazy times we’ve been having, huh? With the fish rain and the squid thing,” He decided to try again, after a moment to scratch his beard in contemplation. He had time to kill, and if he ended up making a fool of himself he could always blame the early hour. “You strike me as someone who likes to get out on the water. You know, got a real affinity for the sea? I’m more of a terrestrial animal myself. It’d be good to hear a more informed take on it.” 

“Mhm. And this place does a really nice Americano. I usually make my own coffee and take it into work, but I figured I could treat myself today.” Skylar said with a polite smile, gesturing to the thermos that was tucked into the water bottle pouch of her work bag. Given the amount of caffeine it took to make her feel anything, her coffee habit had really added up over the years. Alain had been right-- the machine and thermos had been a good investment. As the man continued to speak to her, she blinked a little. Why was he talking to her? Not that she minded conversation, or that it was harming anything. She’d woken up early to ensure she had extra time to get from the coffee shop to work with ample time to spare. But… she hadn’t really anticipated having a chat with someone. “Mhm, pretty weird stuff. Between that and the blood puddles and the darkness… White Crest is anything but boring.” She laughed. When his words turned to talk of the ocean, of water, Skylar’s blood froze. “Huh? No, not really. I don’t even know how to swim very well.” She said, confusion bringing out an ounce of truth.

“Huh. My mistake, I guess,” Ulfric sighed, still not entirely convinced that he was wrong. He’d grown very confident in his shifter radar but maybe the lingering eau de hunter was throwing it off? “You smell like someone that would be more at home on the ocean. Not that you smell bad or anything, or that I go around sniffing strangers that often,” He inarticulately apologised, noticing her growing tension every time mentioned the sea. Still, one last shot, then there would be so little time left before Ink Inc. opened that he could justify going straight there and ideally he might even be able to warn her about the escalating hunter threat before she had firmly decided never to talk to him again. “Like I said, I’m more suited to land so I do most of my hunting there but do I like to fish on occasion--” If you could call catching salmon in your maw straight out stream fishing. “And your sc-- something about you seemed familiar, like maybe we had something in common. But if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave you to go about your business.” The wolf backed off a bit stepping to the side of the line, before rummaging in his pockets for change. “Let me buy you that Americano at least though, for your troubles. ” 

Smell like someone who would be at home in the ocean? What did that mean..? Skylar blinked in confusion as the man continued to speak with her about it. As he continued to talk, her eyes widened. Wait a second, did he? Was he-- Oh god. Rio had mentioned how Hunters who hunted people who changed shapes could sense others. Hand tightening on her workbag, she stiffened. “I-- I guess?” She stammered, trying to figure out how to best deny this. But if he was a Hunter, why would that be something smelling related? She really wished that Rio had told her more about how Hunters figured out who people are. Hunting on land? Fish on occasion? Oh god. He was a Hunter and he’d figured out what she was and he was going to try and take her skin or just actually try and kill him. “I-- No, no, you’re okay. Really, you don’t need to do that.” Skylar said, waving her hands in a slightly panicked gesture.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Ulfric backed away even further, holding up his hands and nodding in acknowledgement towards the barista who had begun glaring at him for harassing their customer. “Nevermind about the coffee,” He conceded, depositing the change he’d got out into the tip jar instead. Turning back to the young woman he then cautioned her in a hushed but carefully enunciated tone. “I just wanted to warn you; There are owls in our bog. Pigs in our forest. There are… I don’t know the American expression but there are a lot of people around town right now looking to do folks like us harm. Take care of yourself, alright?” The wolf moved around in a wide arc around her, allowing her space as he made his way towards the exit of the Coffee Plus, his original purpose for being there abandoned. Clearly he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone until he got some rest, he thought, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a frustrated sigh. Maybe he could find a discreet place in the shop to nap before his first consultation arrived. 

The confused expression on Skylar’s face only grew as the man backed out of the line, tossing his money in the tip jar and then he gave a strange warning. Bog? Pigs? American expression? “I really don’t understand but, you really don’t need to go-- Oh no.” She said in dismay as she watched the man hurry out of the coffee shop. She really hadn’t meant to chase someone off like that, but… she didn’t know what he was talking about. At first, he’d seemed like a hunter, but then he was saying something ominous about owls in the woods? Did that mean he wasn’t one? Turning back to the barista, she placed her order, pausing when they asked her if she wanted anything else. “Um. And a large drip coffee, please. No room for cream.” She added. 

When her drinks were slid across the counter, Skylar hurried out the door and looked around. He was a tall man with a large bushy beard. He was the kind of person who would stand out in a crowd, and the early morning streets of White Crest certainly weren’t crowded. Spotting him, Skylar hurried after him, moving as quickly as she dared with two hot drinks in her hands. “Sir?” She asked timidly after him. “I felt bad that you didn’t get a coffee because of… all that. So, um, please.” Skylar held out the large travel cup.

Ulfric had just finished firing off a quick text to Ariana, ‘Got to rush to work. Don’t be late for school. I’ll pick up food for you + C on the way home’ when he heard the young woman call out to him and pivoted back to her. “That’s nice of you,” he accepted the offered coffee graciously. “Clearly I need it.” He took a long steadying sip. “I’m Ulfric, by the way, that would’ve been a smarter way to start. Here,” He retrieved a glossy business card for Ink Inc from his scuffed leather wallet. “If you change your mind and ever want to talk to someone about, well, changing you can contact me here. Or if you’re ever in trouble,” He held it out in the hopes of exchanging it for the kindly offered caffeine, but if she didn’t take it there was still a chance she’d remember his name if she ever needed it. He was fairly certain he was the only Ulfric in town. “I might be biased but I think we’re safer and stronger if we stick together.” 

When the man held out the business card, Skylar hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from him-- first he’d seemed like a Hunter, dropping hints about things that he might know what she was, but then… he’d backed off. Given, they were in a public space, but the streets weren’t busy. He could easily just grab hold of her, attack her, without her being able to do anything. But instead, he was holding out a business card and saying something about changing. Frowning, she took the card from him, looking at it briefly. “Ulfric Haakonsson.” She read outloud, her tongue stumbling over the strange last name. “Sorry. I’m not good with unfamiliar names. But, um… what do you mean by that? Sticking together? Do you--” She balked, looking around carefully. There was no one around, at least, no one she could see nearby. “Are you… different?” She asked, not sure how else to frame her question. 

Ulfric grinned as she took the card. Doing one small uncomplicatedly right thing felt like a massive relief amidst the tangled mess of conflicting priorities he’d suddenly found himself in with the Bennetts. “Don’t apologize, that’s my great-great-grandfather Haakon’s fault for sticking us with one,” He waved off her apology, unable to hold in a laugh at her downplayed question. Compensating for still keen but less than peak performance hearing, he glanced along the street to confirm no one was in earshot before answering. “Around the full moon, sure.The rest of the time it depends who’s defining normal. Unfortunately for us those with the least tolerance for things deemed irregular, tend to be the most... well-armed. What about you?” He flipped the query back around on her, encouraged by her apparent curiosity. “Are you saying you consider yourself ordinary?”

When the man-- Ulfric-- let out a laugh, Skylar blinked in confusion. Had she said something funny? She didn’t quite understand why he would be laughing. But, when he mentioned the full moon, her stomach lurched. Werewolf. He was a werewolf, he must be. She didn’t know of any other kind of creature--person, that turned with the full moon. And… that must be how he could tell that she was some kind of creature as well. Because his sense of smell. He could tell what she was just at a glance. Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar weighed her options. He knew she wasn’t human. She couldn’t lie. She hated that she couldn’t keep it a secret from him. But… if he was telling her what he was, he must be a good person, right? He was honest. And he’d said those kind words, of being stronger and safer together. They were words she’d heard from Ricky, but had been long abandoned. Could she trust this man? Realizing she hadn’t answered, Skylar cleared her throat. “No. Not really,” Her words came out in a slightly halting tone, not sure how to put what she was into meaningful euphemisms. “I don’t always feel comfortable in my own skin. And the sea, it’s where I’m meant to belong. I’m just not always… the best at dealing with it.” She said, hoping he would understand what she meant.

“Well, the world we’re living in certainly doesn’t make it so easy,” Ulfric replied thoughtfully, milling over the young woman’s words for clues that could be matched with what he knew of other shifter species. The mention of skin pointed towards selkie, but the comment about not being comfortable in hers was confusing and a little concerning. The close-knit colony he’d heard about in Iceland frequently returned to sea in their true forms, and he didn’t see putting it off for extended periods could possibly be healthy. Then again the current climate in White Crest wasn’t exactly friendly towards shifter habits. “Maybe it’s best if you lay low for a while,” He added with a hint of sadness. “Hunting season is heating up and they don’t tend to discriminate between one ‘beast’ and the next.” He mimed quotation marks with his free hand to make it clear he didn’t really believe that label hunters had slapped on all shifters and supernatural animals applied to them. “Just keep in mind my offer, alright? If you’re ever finding things too much to handle on your own.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Skylar agreed, hoping that he understood what she’d meant. Did he realize that she was a selkie? She wasn’t quite sure how else she could make it clear, without just saying “I turn into a seal sometimes.” And this wasn’t quite the time or place to make such a statement. The man’s advice, words about a hunting season, they rang loud and clear. People were out in White Crest, looking to harm them. Looking to hurt people who were… like her. Who could change into things, even if they didn’t really want to. Swallowing, Skylar nodded. “Thanks for the advice.” She said with a nod, though her mind couldn’t help but go to Nic and to Rio and to how they were different. They weren’t just mindless murderers. They were good people, stuck in roles they didn’t quite like either. “I will. I… I might take you up on that.” She offered a small smile. 

“That’s all I can ask for.” Ulfric nodded, understanding why she’d remain hesitant. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say to reassure her of his trustworthiness in the middle of the street. “Be seeing you around then, maybe.” Returning her smile, he gave a semi-reluctant wave goodbye before continuing in the direction of the parlor. He would just have to hope that the few words of warning he’d been able to give her would be enough to keep her from harm until she did decide to reach out or the problem was permanently, bloodily resolved. The news had undoubtedly added to the weight on the young shifter’s shoulders, and he did feel a small pang of regret for that. But, he concluded, as he arrived at the shuttered Ink Inc. shopfront, a few more blissful moments of ignorance weren’t worth dying over. It wasn’t until he got the heavily bolted shop door open that he realized he’d never got her name or any way to check up on her himself. Faen, he was going to need a lot more coffee. 

[boogaloomagoo]

Date: 2/24/2020

Setting: Trudeau household

Characters: Margot and August Trudeau

Notes: Margot and her father have a heart to heart; much is conveyed without actually being spoken.

"Dad... I just want you to know that I care about you-- No, no he already knows that, what's the point in saying it again?... Okay, um - Dad, it's been a while since we've talked about this... and I know you don't like bringing it up around this time of year, but... but..." The blonde's eyes slipped shut, tight with obvious frustration in her furrowed brow, and she flopped unceremoniously onto the worn-in couch nestled in their living room. "But I... have no idea what I'm doing," How? How was she supposed to bring this up casually? The conversation with Josephine had helped a bit, but for the most part Margot still felt entirely unprepared in how to address the issue as a whole. Twenty minutes of sinking into the couch had passed before her father finally returned home from his first shift at Alain's garage. "Magoo?" "In here, dad," She hollered from the living room, attempting to fix her features into something that resembled a welcoming, peaceful expression rather than the inner turmoil broiling within. When he entered and flopped down beside her, jostling the couch frame just a bit with his large stature, an arm immediately curled around her shoulders. "Hey, sweet pea," For a while, they talked about his day; Margot was off from her own job, which meant she could focus entirely on her father’s. So far, he liked what he was doing, seemed to get along with most of the staff, etc. Good. This was starting off good. Though after a few more exchanges, he wore a skeptical expression, as if sensing just what she was attempting to conceal the entire conversation, and he finally inquired. "So... What's goin' on in that head of yours?" Nothing. Everything? Did it ever stop going, around and around like a malfunctioning carousel that had lost any and all semblance of fun and merriment; the horses snarled as their nostrils flared in anger, painted eyes crimson fire that raged as their hooves stampeded ceaselessly. 'Round, 'round and 'round it goes, where it stops?... Her words began slow, even - paced from myriads of time running this exact conversation through her head. "I've just... been thinking about some stuff. A lot of stuff, actually, but-- the main one is about us. About you," She expected the crease between his brows, the way his lips quirked off to the side - such in the same manner her own did when contemplating what another person was saying or explaining. "Okay. What about us -- or me?" Take it slow and steady, she reminded herself. Ease into it but don't beat around the bush. Just be honest, upfront, but gentle. How did all of these methods somehow coincide to actually breach a subject cohesively? It felt as though her brain would implode from employing even one, let alone all. The blonde took a deep inhale through her nose, allowing the oxygen to flow in and held it one beat, two; exhale. "I know it's been hard. Settling in here. But, I hoped getting the job might help both of us... and I'm so glad you like it," She paused there to give something of a wilted smile in his face, and her fingers found purchase atop his knee, gently squeezing. "You're meeting new people, getting more comfortable. And I know that's hard for you, and me, but, we're doing okay. Like, genuinely okay... and I'd also like to try something else. To help us both start to feel like we can... actually find a home here, y'know?" The mild confusion in his expression would have served to heighten her anxiety, but there was a nod, a well-meaning tint to his eyes as he attempted to understand better. Well, no going back now, was there? "I'd like us to go to family therapy. For... for some closure," She had hesitated, due to her father's body tensing at the mention of the 'T' word. An unspoken agreement had been enacted between them years ago, that Margot shouldn't bring it up whatsoever because it wasn't necessary. He had no issues for whatever help she sought for herself, had even accompanied her on a few visits as a child with a guidance counselor. But whenever the subject shifted to focus on his own needs and status, it was hitting a re-enforced concrete wall. No budging. And if he resigned himself to being the immovable object, then, she would simply have to become the unstoppable force. "Margot..." The rejection seemed ready to roll off his tongue; but she wouldn't take it this time. Not without making her case clear. "Dad, I know how you feel about it. I do. And I respected that you wanted to deal with things your own way - I haven't brought this up in over six years, and in all that time, I still see you falling into the same routine you said you wouldn't," Meandering around the house, in a stupor of some sort - inhabiting the spaces they shared as a partial ghost, sometimes fully content to haunt the corridors and hallways. While all she could do was gently tug and nudge him around, hoping he might resurface from the depths of grey murk he seemed far too resigned to sink beneath on a daily basis. "Getting the job is an amazing start. But this isn't just about you, like I said -- it's for both of us," The blonde staved off a broken sigh, edging forward onto the couch and clasping both hands between her knees. Her heart never seemed to weigh heavier than it did when thinking about her - but it was unavoidable, and that was the point. They needed to think about it, right? That was the point to moving forward? "I try being positive. Every day, I would force myself to smile and face the day like I... I feel she would have wanted me to. But, lately... ever since we moved here, I-I haven't felt like I need to do that anymore," Didn't want to. Fingers rose to touch her forehead, automatically settling upon the divot between her brows. An ache almost always settled there whenever stress was involved, and now was no exception. "I've done it because I feel like I've had to. That if I didn't smile and act happy, that we'd both just fall into this abyss... this cycle of milling around and feeling sorry for ourselves. And I think that's because we just-- haven't talked about it. We run, and run, and for a while we're okay, but then we just start it all over again, and, I-I don't want to run anymore - not from anything," Her gaze, glazed over with unshod tears, settled on his worn features, lower lip trembling. "We deserve to live, dad. And I think that means settling, getting to know people, making new memories... letting ourselves properly grieve. Not forget, but..." Let go. She couldn't say it, though. He might react badly to that wording, and with the ache of tears swallowing up every other sense and reaction, she didn't know any other way to phrase it. Thank whatever deity that might have taken favor upon them that her father wasn't a thick man. Their very nature stemmed from being able to communicate multiple ways - talking was only one of them. When he removed his arm from around her, there was a sudden coldness that threatened to slide it's bony finger along her spine. But it was quickly replaced with the warmth of large, warped but tender palms encompassing her own. He had knelt down in front of her, gaze locked onto their clasped hands. "I never meant to... All these years, I thought I was doing the right thing. Keep us moving, keep us safe -- that was the priority," Margot felt herself grow weak, wanting to argue that he had done as good a job as possible, better than she could have ever accomplished herself. But he finally peered up at her through thick brows, and her weakness reflected in the tremor of his own lips. "I robbed you of so much, growing up. A normal childhood. Adulthood... and I've been making you pay the price for something that was never your fault," "Dad..." Her voice broke, trails of saline finally trickling down her cheeks, head swaying from side to side. "You never have to apologize for... for wanting to keep me safe. Please, don't ever feel like I'll resent you or hate you for it, I... I understand," Seeing his only child weep was enough to bring a moisture to his own gaze, hazel glistening as he nodded, stilted yet insistent. "I will, though. I'll always be sorry. And you're right - I never wanted to admit it before, it... always felt like admitting I was a failure. That that kind of help meant I had failed you, and your..." His voice cracked on the word he couldn't bring himself to say, one hand removed to pinch the bridge of his nose as large shoulders shook with a whimper. Margot had lowered herself to his level in an instant, arms wrapped around his torso and face buried into the crook of his neck. They had fallen apart so many times, in such a similar fashion; tears, an embrace, apologies for wrongs they hadn't truly committed and yet could never settle right within them. They were broken in every sense of the word, but in these moments, strange as it seemed, letting the sadness flow remained one of the few times Margot felt truly whole. Alive. His palm curved into the threads of her hair, gently cradling her head and petting the locks. An attempt to calm them both down as the wave of emotions ran it's course. When he spoke again, his voice warped by the strain born from sobbing, Margot felt her heart swell. "We'll go together. I can't... promise that it'll be easy for me. But I'll be damned if I won't try, okay?" She nodded, tear-stained cheeks smothered against his warm neck. "That's all I ask. I'll be with you every step of the way. I promise," His head bobbed a few times in succession, the determination seemingly surging between them, strengthening them both. Words were intriguing, useful things; but touch... the embrace of a loved one. It would always remain a language far preferred by the Trudeau's.

[venus-says]

Kamen Rider Ghost Episodes 17-50

Ghosts are spooky.

Coming out later than it should, it is finally here, the final review on Kamen Rider Ghost. I avoided writing this review as much as I could, but if I wanted to move on I had to get this out so, here we are.

Yes, by my tone you probably already guessed that I didn't like Ghost. But it's not really that I disliked it, is more that I didn't feel anything for it?

If you asked me to describe Ghost in one word that word would be: forgettable. Because at the end of the day Ghost hasn't left an impression on me, and if it weren't for all the notes I made and the screenshots I took I wouldn't remember a single thing about this show, and it's not because time has passed, because I still remember W, heck I still remember a lot of thing from Fourze and Drive that are seasons that I hate. But for Ghost, I couldn't remember a thing. To write this post I had to read my notes five times, while looking at the screenshots I took, and with the Wikia page open so that I could locate myself, I also needed a help from YouTube to remember a few of the scenes.

But giving credit where its due, my experience with Ghost wasn't just a bunch of boredom and confusion, it had a few good moments, in particular the second part of it. Yes, it had its flaws, most of what I mentioned in my first post was present, but they had new additions that were interesting and that, judging by my notes, got me very engaged. Sadly, when the third portion started all that was interesting was dropped and what we got was a big pile of mess that didn't make a lot of sense, and that had no meaning at all, at least none that I could see hidden in all that madness. That final arc made things look very empty and without a purpose. And it's sad that it went that way because, and I'm gonna sound repetitive here, they had great concepts and pretty damn good visuals but the execution lacked a lot.

I don't really have a direction to line up my thoughts about everything that happened in these 30+ episodes so I'll do the same thing I did for Gaim and go character by character here, starting with the Riders:

Takeru was bland (look at me repeating myself again), to me he had no personality at all. He was very wasted, like the dude died and he's a ghost, that was supposed to be cool, and it wasn't. They could use his backstory with religion play a part in this, but the most it did for him was seeing him meditating here and there, the fact he grew up in a temple didn't make much difference for him. They could've made some cool stuff with his dad, have him like a spiritual guide or something, but no the most we got was a few scenes that lacked emotion and it wasn't fun to see. And another repeated complaint, the number of times he died and came back and had his countdown restarted was a joke, just like his motivational speeches that are generic as fuck and never hit the mark, at least with me.

There was a single time where I started feeling like Takeru was interesting and it was when he started being a bitch and all heroic Eyecons left him because they couldn't sense the heroicness on him or something like that. I thought that moment would give him a personality and it could start a journey of persona growing as he would have to gather all Eyecons again. But then the show dumped a bucket of pig's blood on my face and made all Eyecons get back to him in the same episode and the most we got in the development department was those horrible scenes where the Eyecons would drag Takeru inside them to have vague conversations that are meant to sound deep and smart but that only sound dumb (just like me in this blog). 

Makoto... was useless. I know this is a running gag about secondary riders, but I never felt that SO MUCH like I did with Makoto. The dude did nothing, this whole time. He got controlled by the enemies, AGAIN, then we know his also kind of a ghost because his body is in the Ganma's dimension, but that was just a convenience to give him his power-up, then he spends some time doing nothing just to bump with a side-plot about him having copies of himself that pretty much goes nowhere because most of the times the copies only interact with him and it's just a waste of time. And don't get me started on the implications that he loves his sister more than he should because that's a disgusting hole I don't wanna get in because I don't want this post to become as long as a scientific article.

Alain was definitely my favorite of the riders, I dare say my favorite member of this whole cast. His story is rough, I admit it's very hard to see anything interesting on him at the start. But when all shit goes down with his family and he gets his "redemption arc" it's a true delight to see him. His whole thing with the Takoyaki lady was very pretty and very emotional and it was definitely the high point of the season to me, it really hit me hard seeing the lady die, and I understand that this is a show for kids and they don't wanna be sad and gloomy all the time but I really think the show needed more moments like this, you know? Make us really think about death, and how that affects the living. It's a shame that in the third act Alain had to deal with the whole mess with his family and seeing his own people being pulverized for no reason at all because it felt that they traded something more unique to a very generic thing.

Moving to side characters, Akari remained consistently interesting, of course, I think they could've used her way more seeing that she's supposed to be the scientific side in a very spiritual show, but it felt like they only used her science background when it was convenient for them, they didn't make much of a discussion. Regardless of that I still like her, I like how she's not a romantic interest, she's somewhat very proactive, and even though he sucks at it she does kick some ass. Sadly most of the time they just make her the Straight Man to Onari who's one of the worst characters ever because he's annoying as hell, he's character is very flat-lined, he doesn't have an arc, he doesn't change, he's just there for bad comedy. Heck that guy who's an apprentice in the temple, the one that has the mom with the lamen shop, I think Shibuya is his name, he has more of a character than Onori, he even has more of a character than Makoto's sister who took over the role of the token girl and as a token girl she only serves to be Makoto's motivation and Alain's romantic pair and has nothing of her own.

We also had Cubi and the other Mozart Ganma that were a very interesting concept of a MOTW who develops a personality that is a leftover from their "human counterpart" in the Ganma world, but instead of making something cool with it they just drop the concept, the two go away and disappear for a big chunk of the show just to come back at the end for a very small participation if I'm remembering it correctly and it's just a disappointment.

Closing the good guys' side are Yurusen and Edith. I said Yurusen was annoying at the beginning but that little thing grew on me, also the revelation at the end that Yurusen was actually a cat makes it impossible for me to dislike it so... the same can't be said about Edith. I'm sorry but I hate the guy, more or less because I don't get him. Like, he's supposed to be a double agent? But he always seems so shady to both sides so it can mean that he has his own agenda and that he's helping both sides in order to get what he wants but nothing ever comes out of it and it's just frustrating.

I was planning on doing a section about the villains and go on each one of them, but their plotline is so confusing, I didn't understand it while watching it and I most definitely won't be able to do this based only in my confused notes so I'll just bundle them up in a single paragraph.

So basically their thing is basically an alien invasion plot, their world is bad so they're trying to invade Earth and take over. It seems like a simple plot, but the way they do this is confusing as hell. To begin with, there's that Demia project that on paper sounds amazing but when you have Igor as the head of the project it just makes for something that is really hard to watch and pay attention to because he's head-on-head with Onari trying to see who's the more annoying, and the show seems more concerned in making him have a gag with women hitting him rather than explaining what is going on with this plan. Then on top of that, we have the political/familiar drama with Alain's family that I couldn't care less because they didn't bother to explain well what goes on in this family. And it all just becomes messier when Adel gets to power and the Ganmeizers become a thing because it feels like one of those things that came out of nowhere and they're way too overpowered but they still get defeated in a regular basis somehow. And then they all become a god-like entity or something at the end, and I really don't know what to make out of this. Honestly, if you watched Ghost and understood how this progression happened please explain to me, I need answers.

I feel like I talked a lot and at the same time that I didn't write a single word. There are so many other things in this show that I want to complain, like those ridiculous possessions the Eyecons do, that random idol-centric episode, how inconsistent they are about the difficulty of getting to the Ganma world, how Alain's sister can become a rider but she just gets her ass kicked and we never see her in action again, the way Takeru's dad in so keen on putting so many responsibilities into someone who was just a kid and how they wanted to make him be a chosen one, some of the portrayals of historical figures that seem kinda offensive at some points, the excuses for power-ups, and so on and so forth. But I gotta be honest my energy is starting to run down so I think I'll wrap up here, I know there's a lot else that happens but I pretty much said everything I had to say anyway so I think I made my case and there's no reason to make this post longer than it already is.

Now I'm curious, what are your thoughts on Ghost? Do you agree? Disagree? Should I have watched the show again before making this review? Let me know in the comments. If everything goes right this week I should have the post about the Ghost movies up as well, that'll probably be better since I won't be working from my bad memory. In any case, stay healthy, stay safe, never stop resisting, thank you so much for reading, and until the next time, see ya~

[purplesurveys]

652

We’ll do the last people I messaged, like before.

Friend One What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? JM. He’s a guy. How old are they and what month is their birthday? He is 22, but he blows his candles every July 6th. Does this person have a Facebook account? Yes he does. In this country, 98% of the time you kinda need to have a Facebook account, because work-related stuff is mostly conducted there (if you’re in school) and it’s a way to stay connected to family and friends. When was the last time you saw this person? Yesterday. He’s my classmate in my last class for the week, which is on Friday afternoons. Do you find this person attractive? Objectively yes, but I don’t have a huge crush on him lmao.

Have you ever lived in the same house as this person? Nope. Where does this person work? We’re currently just students, so no job yet. And as far as I know he plans on taking law so assuming he passes, he won’t be working for another four years. Friend Two What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Gabie, she’s a girl and a very pretty one at that. How old are they and what month is their birthday? 21, June 5th. Have you ever been to their house? Yeah, plenty of times. I’d be concerned if I wasn’t allowed to visit them lol. Are you friends with any of their other friends? I’m civil with her two best friends but I don’t really mix well with her other blockmates.  Where did you meet them? I went to school with her for 14 years. What are their siblings’ names? Don’t really feel like sharing that here. Have you ever cooked a meal with this person? Technically yeah. We had to run a small restaurant once for a final project in home economics, so we had to make hundreds of burgers and chicken strips hahaha. But other than that, the only thing we’ve made for ourselves is instant noodles, because we’re equally bad in the kitchen :/ Friend Three What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Andrew, boy. How old are they and what month is their birthday? I know he’s also 21 but I have no clue when his birthday is, which I should be partly ashamed of because he’s really into astronomy and always tells me about his star sign, which I’ve also forgotten about lmao. Have you ever hugged them? A few times. He’s not really someone I’d approach to hug. Do you know what their favourite candy is? LMAOOO we also talked about this with JM literally just a few days ago but I forgot already. I’m awful. But I guess it also kinda has to do with the fact that he’s incredibly talkative and some things he says just go into my ear and exit the other. Have you ever had a crush on this person? I’ve never had a crush on him. Do you know their parents? His mom knows of me, but I’ve never met her. He’s not close to his dad, so I don’t care whether I know him or not. Do they have a boyfriend/girlfriend or other significant other? Yeah, in a surprising turn of events he’s seeing my seatmate/good friend from high school, Leigh. Friend Four What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Angela, and she’s a girl. How old are they and what month is their birthday? She’s 21 and has her birthday on September 15th. Are you related to this person? Mmm nope. But I do know she and Chelsea, another friend of mine and who was in my high school circle, are distant cousins. Does this person have an Instagram account? She does. I think I’m the only person in all my circles with no instagram. Do you know the rest of their friends? I know most of her friends, but tbh she’s super sociable so there may be friends that I haven’t heard of or met. What are their parents’ names? Alain and Girlie. When was the last time you spoke to this person on the phone? A few months ago when she called me up crying because her boyfriend was being a jerk. Friend Five What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Sophie, girl. She is also my girlfriend’s sister so that 1/2 answers the question on the section on Friend Two, lmao. How old are they and what month is their birthday? She just turned 15. If I’m not mistaken, November 14? Something along that week, anyway.  Do you know what their favourite colour is? I have no clue but knowing her aesthetic, she’d probably go with a pastel shade. Have you ever been swimming with this person? Neverrrrr. I remember planning it once at their village’s clubhouse, but it never happened because I just never brought any swimsuits whenever I go visit haha. Do you live in the same town/city as this person? You can say that. But our city’s divided into upper and lower parts, and we’re on either side so it’s still a bit of a drive to get to their place. Would you answer the phone if this person called right now? I’d be surprised, but I’d take the call. Does this person live with their parents? Yes. Friend Six What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Tina, also a girl. How old are they and what month is their birthday? It’ll always shock me that she’s a year older – aka she’s 22. She feels like such a 1998 baby, if that even makes sense lol. Her birthday is September 11. Have you ever gone out for coffee with this person? We’ve bought coffee for takeout, but I’ve never sat down at a coffee shop with her. Does this person take selfies? If she does it’s only meme-ish in nature, or selfies with her dogs. Would this person come pick you up in the middle of the night? No and she wouldn’t be the first person I’d call because she lives too far from me and I don’t want to burden her too much. What does this person usually wear on a day-to-day basis? Growing up in Abu Dhabi where it’s warm/super warm all-year round, she can’t go anywhere without a thick jacket or sweater as she’s constantly cold. Have you ever shared a bed with them? I don’t think I have. Friend Seven What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Hannah, girl. Because most of my friends are girls. How old are they and what month is their birthday? She just turned 20! January 16. What do their parents do for a living? I have no clue. It’s never really been brought up in conversation, so I haven’t thought to ask and she hasn’t thought to tell. Have you ever gone to the cinema with this person? Nah and I think we have very different tastes so we wouldn’t be able to agree on what to watch anyway. Are they older than you? No, she’s much younger than me lmaoooo. What is their middle name? Her second name is Millenne, pronounced mell-EEN/mill-EEN. Since she’s a January 2000 baby, she was named after the word ‘millennium.’ Does this person go to school or college? Yeah, we’re coursemates in UP and equally hate journalism jfkhkdjhgg. Friend Eight What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Gab, guy. We’re not that close anymore but he recently caught up with me because he wanted to lend me his WWE Network account, which is super sweet of him. How old are they and what month is their birthday? If I’m not mistaken he was born 1998. But my second guess is that he was born 1997. Either way, his birthday falls on May 11. Do you have any inside jokes with this person? We have some inside wrestling jokes here and there. When was the last time you messaged this person? Thursday. I realize I never replied to him :( so I’ll have to get on that soon haha. How long have you known this person? We applied for our org at the same period, and that was two and a half years ago. What was the last thing you did to help this person out? Keep him company when no one was talking to him during the Christmas party. Have you ever said “I love you” to this person? Maybe when Nacho died. But it’s definitely not something I’d tell him all the time. Friend Nine What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Her first name is technically Denise, but I don’t know anyone who still calls her that. We all know her as Mils, from her surname. How old are they and what month is their birthday? She’s also 22 and while I don’t memorize her birthday, I do know she’s a Scorpio. When was the last time you hung out with this person? It’s been...a while. We’re pretty close, but we’re from different circles and we never hang out. I think it’s as far back as 2016, when she invited me to her and Leigh’s birthday thing and they treated us to a screening of Doctor Strange. Have you ever set this person up on a date with someone else you know? Nope. Again, not that close. Does this person have any pets? Yes, her family has a dog. How far away is their house from yours? It’s pretty close, but she lives in the heart of Cainta whereas I live on the very border of it, and I never go to that area. Would this person help you if you asked for it? It depends. She’s a hit or miss. Friend Ten What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Blanch! Also a girl. How old are they and what month is their birthday? She’s 20 turning 21, but not until September 8th. Have you ever stayed the night at their house? Nope. I’ve never been to her place and I don’t think I’ll ever get to, because she lives allllllll the way in Las Piñas. When was the last time you spoke to this person? Friday. We’re classmates in a history elective. Do you knock on their front door, or just walk right in? I’ve never been to her place. Have you ever ignored a phone call from this person? We’re not close enough to just call one another, plus I don’t think she likes talking on the phone anyway. Have you ever kissed this person? No. Friend Eleven What is their name and are they a boy or a girl? Apple! Still a girl. How old are they and what month is their birthday? Like Gab, I’m not sure if she was born 1997/1998, but her birthday’s May 4. Have you ever gone to dinner with this person? Yes, but along with a bunch of people. She shocked all of us when she quietly downed an entire bowl of ramen in like five minutes, which is why her nickname on our org’s groupchat to this day is still “Ramen Nagi Queen” hahaha. Do you know what their hobbies and interests are? She’s down for anything, but she particularly likes stuff that forces you to be active, like hiking. Does this person go to the gym regularly? It’s possible, considering she’s into sportsy stuff. I’m not 100% sure. But one thing I do know for sure is that her resolution this year is to cut back on rice. Have you ever been to a party with this person? Not yet but she seems like such an awesome person to party with, given that she’s in a sorority lol. Have you ever secretly checked this person out? I have not.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Hee hee hee...

... I found a Zi-O 14 raw...

I’m gonna watch it!

(I’m still tired though, so this’ll likely be a speed through and then I’ll do another post later, but anyway, more below!)

(So it turns out I lied. I got way to into the episode. Sorry.)

In no order:

YES! Geiz you softie, I knew it. Even if you’re gonna defend it by saying it’s bc you want to be the one to kill him or whatever, I knew you weren’t gonna leave it at that.

It’s making me think of something from the musical ep of Buffy (disclaimer: I have not actually watched Buffy I just have the music from that ep bc... I love show tunes. No. Really. That’s why.). Weird comparison, I know, but hear me out--Spike’s got this line that goes (w/ some less applicable parts removed) ‘I hope she fries ... I better help her out.’ Literally, I feel like that's what happened here. Geiz is like ‘I totally do not care at all that he is dead, absolutely not, not for any reason whatsoever, I’m going to leave now good-bye. ............ OkaymaybeI’mgonnagosavehim. But only bc I want to be the one to kill him. Not bc I care at all in any way even a little bit.’

RYUKI!

Yeah, yeah. I know it’s just Tsukasa, but, I mean... Ryuki.

Aw, he did the henshin kinda like how Takeru used to do it. ^^ God, Tsukasa, what are you doing giving me warm fuzzies?

THREE GHOST NO WAITING.

TSUKASA LOOK WHERE YOU’RE THROWING YOUR SHIT GO PICK THAT SWORD UP RIGHT NOW!

NO! MY BABY! WHY HAVE THE LAST THREE TAGS BEEN IN ALL CAPS?

Okay, yeah, but... We already know Takeru has one/it. So... Hm. Does Tsukasa know that? At this point I just never take anything this man says or does at face value, so...

Ooop. Yup. Guessing he dropped that on purpose. What is your plan here, Tsukasa?

SOUGO JUST LOADED TAKERU INTO THE TIME MAJIN. HE’S MAKING HIM DRIVE. I LOVE THESE TWO GOOFBALLS THEY ARE SO CUTE.

Wait. Is future¡nonRider¡Takeru gonna meet past¡Rider¡Takeru?

OH. Oh... Wow. Okay. Not the plan I was expecting to be implemented. A... Apparently Takeru’s new Force Push works on physical stuff, too. Alright then! Sure, I’ll take it!

WAIT IF GHOST SOUGO ISN’T THERE HOW IS TAKERU GONNA GET BACK???

Oh, hey Woz. I guess. He seems... A little frustrated about something?

Sougo, why are you making a face like you got caught talking in class? You don’t have to feel bad about this. You did a good. A... Side from semi-stranding Takeru in the past?

Wait... If the incident never occurred, then Another Ghost was never created, then Takeru never lost his memories, then he never got deRidered... But the Ghost Watch exists so he should still be deRidered.... Augh! I knew I didn’t have the brain for this time travel stuff! I’m gonna stop thinking about it.

And now Uhr (or whatever his name is) is gonna pout. Which is probably gonna be destructive.

But also... MAKOTO!!!

Though... Why is Makoto here? Though, I guess I’m not sure when exactly this would fall during Ghost, since we weren’t given any timeline indication for it. Seems to be after Takeru and Makoto made up, though... I guess he was in the area? And then saw Takeru getting attacked.

Yeah, okay, so he’s still Spectre, which means the Ghost timeline hasn't been erased yet.

Aw, and he doesn’t know it’s not the Takeru from his time. So... Are we gonna have two Takeru’s? I’m curious.

IT JUST APPEARED! NOW IF PAST¡TAKERU SHOWS UP WE WILL HAVE FIVE FOUR GHOSTS!!!

Unfortunately, we lost one bc Tsukasa is a dick.

I’m assuming Takeru’s memories are back, too.

Makoto is just staring at him (looking absolutely fantastic, might I add) like ‘dude wtf are you okay? What’s going on?’

THEY DID THE POSES THEY SAID THE THINGS

Uhr, why are you surprised? Did you not do your research or something? YOU PICKED A FIGHT W/ THE ACTUAL KAMEN RIDER GHOST.

I realise this is all gonna get erased by the end of this (come to think if you erase the Ghost Timeline... What happens to Makoto and Kanon? I mean, Takeru never dies... Do they never get sucked into Gamma? Bc the accident never occurs, or bc Gamma never exists? And if Gamma never exists... What about Alain? And his family? Oh Dear.) so this won’t happen, but it’s really funny think about Makoto mentioning this to the Takeru of the past later and having 2015¡Takeru be like ‘Makotonii-chan wth are you talking about?’ and Makoto is like ‘Wth do you mean wth? YOU WERE THERE!’

SWARTZ JUST SHOWS UP TO SCOLD HIM. I love this evil time manipulating family that hates each other.

Okay, but Uhr is gonna turn the brother into Another Ghost anyway... But now he’s not dead, so destroying the Another Ride Watch isn’t a moral dilemma anymore.

And there go Makoto and Takeru.

EXCEPT THAT’S TAKERU FROM THE FUTURE HOW IS HE GETTING BACK.

Wait... Is Geiz still in 2015? Maybe he can give him a hand.

Sougo, did you just realise that Woz does not actually have your best interests in mind? I’ve known that since nigh ten episodes ago.

I feel like Makoto was either just like ‘Takeru what the hell is going on?’, ‘What are you doing here?’ or, ‘Weren’t you wearing something else half nd hour ago?’ (okay, probably not that last one). And now Takeru is scrambling bc he can’t very well be like ‘yeah I’m actually Takeru from the future who forgot he was a Kamen Rider etc.’

Mika there w/ the accidental save. I’m sure a little sister looking for her brother is gonna hit a nerve w/ Makoto, too...

Poor Makoto. He’s getting Gaim Arc Tsukuyomi’d. It’s okay, honey, this’ll all have never have happened by the end of this episode.

He’s still, like, two dimensional, though. Physically, I mean. Like, Flat Stanley. He can fit through tight spaces if he turns sideways.

Takeru is such a terrible liar he has to look the opposite direction. It’d be really funny if the Takeru of 2015 came running up right after they leave. Poor Makoto would be so confused. Even more than he already is.

Poor guy, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry. Like I said, by the end of this, this’ll never have happened.

Aw, Geiz came back. I’m glad he’s alright.

Also... OH MY GOD I JUST NOTICED SOUGO MOPING IN THE CORNER.

It sounds like he’s complaining, but I don’t speak Japanese, so I’m not sure. I’m really confused as to why Takeru didn’t tell them, though... Like, did he think they wouldn’t believe him?

Oh, yeah... What’d they tell Junichiro? He doesn’t seem as worried as he’d presumably be if he knew Sougo was technically dead...

Tsukuyomi taking one for the team w/ this conversation. Geiz is just sitting there like ‘this is one of the most awkward moments of my life.’

Oh my gosh, they just came in. Poor Takeru’s running around so much. His feet have gotta hurt by now.

Takeru don’t talk to Sougo when you know no one else can see him, for pity’s sake.

See what I mean? Everyone is looking at you like you’re nuts.

Oh for... SERIOUSLY? YOU’RE ONLY TELLING THEM NOW? You bloody little troll. It’s okay, I still love you.

I’m... Pretty sure they just mentioned Akari. Aw, that’s sweet. They couldn’t get her back, but they didn’t forget her.

I’m starting to wonder if the Ghost cast just have a group chat and Takeru’s actor was like ‘hey who’s free during this time period?’ and these are the folks who could make it.

Aw, Geiz is embarrassed. I saw you doing the awkward embarrassed thing. Poor Tsukuyomi just collapses in a chair.

Oh my gosh... Geiz is mad that that they made him embarrassed and have feelings, so he’s got both Sougo and Takeru by the shoulders like an angry big brother or something, and poor Takeru’s trying to explain, I love this episode. I also love how bad Geiz is at feelings.

Wait, though... Did they give Sougo his body back, or did they just temporarily revitalise his ghost? Bc I seem to remember that while Takeru was a ghost, he was capable of being corporeal at times.

I love how Sougo is just nodding along w/ what Takeru’s saying like ‘Sempai, save me!’

Geiz is like ‘You asshole... I GOT DOUBLE RIDER KICKED FOR YOU!’ He’s totally gonna try and kill him again for this...

This is totally like that moment in Dekaranger when Hoji got huffy about something and stalked out and the rest of the team just started giggling and someone literally said ‘He’s so bad at feelings!’ Bc Geiz is very bad at feelings. I love him, he’s so hopeless.

Yeah, it’s fine, Takeru was able to make it so he was no longer reanimated. And confused the hell out of poor Makoto in the process!

Geiz is also embarrassed about the Ghost Ride Watch getting destroyed. It’s okay, peaches, you got double Rider Kicked, remember? Anyway, Takeru’s got one. Well, I mean... Presumably it’s the same one. Just... It’s in a time loop. And it will be until we finish changing time. At least we know it’ll always come back, bc Puma Zi-O has to have it for Geiz to steal in the first place.

Aw, the Time Jacker sibs are working together! Guess Dad frustrated.

Robot fights? In my Kamen Rider? It’s more likely than you’d think!

Aw, look at that. They just got their gamers on.

Oh, nope, now we’re Build and Cross-z.

God, you boys REALLY SUCK at not being in sync. Are you sure you weren’t meant to work together?

Woz here, trying manipulate Tsukasa. Please. You don’t play a player.

Still excited for the day Geiz uses Sougo’s name.

Geiz here, sharing the powers again.

Tsukasa is sitting in this construction equipment like one of your french girls.

I think Tsukasa just asked Woz who he was talking to, and Woz was like ‘Uhhh... I dunno?’

I just realised... Sougo’s Decade Armour has a barcode on it?

YES! THANK YOU! I knew I could count on you, Tsukasa. He just yelled at Woz to either stop or be quiet, I’m pretty sure, snatched the book and closed it. Bringing back Masahiro was a great choice, I love this. So long as he can keep it up. I hope he’s not overdoing it between this and Jinga.

Either that or he said ‘too long,’ which is also true.

Oooooooo. He can use two Riders at once on the sword.

Woz, are you just realising Tsukasa is doing what he wants, not what you want? Seriously?

Like I said, I do trust Tsukasa to at least have noble intentions/goals, even if his methods are rather... Questionable at times. I do believe he does take his post as a Kamen Rider seriously. Even if he’s... Tsukasa.

The Decade Armour is chanting ‘HEI-SEI HEI-SEI HEI-SEI etc. etc.’ and I’m afraid I must admit I love it.

Aw, Tsukuyomi and Takeru waited for him to wake up. Geiz isn’t there bc he’s embarrassed.

Junichiro is scared of Tsukasa, and you know what, valid.

Also Geiz is gonna kill something and for once it might not be Sougo. It’s okay, dude. Like I said, at the end of the day, he is a Kamen Rider, the goddamn leggy bastard.

HE’S JUST EATING THE FOOD OH MY GOD THIS MAN IS UNSTOPPABLE.

I love how he apparently takes the camera off to eat.

And Tsukasa is still himself, even though the Decade Ride Watch exists... Hmm... So either the thing about there being two Koutas was true, or... There’s something else going one w/ leg asshole here that allowed him to keep his memories when even Fruit Jesus lost them.

That’s... Actually an okay photo? Tsukasa, have you improved?

Geiz is gonna try and kill him again. Sorry, sweetie, he’s just like This. I wouldn’t advise picking a fight right now, he’s been around the block multiple times. He’d just trash you again.

Is Woz... In the scene? Or is he... Not? Is he trying to predict Tsukasa? Oh, this’ll be interesting. Tsukasa vs Woz.

Geiz is still glaring, Tsukuyomi looks a little like a frightened rabbit.  Zi-Ot3 isn’t sure what to make of the leggy bastard just yet.

So, the preview...: Is Puma Zi-O planning to beat his past self into submission? That’s... Dark. What’s the relationship between Woz and this Kisshan fellow? Did Puma Zi-O feel like Woz was screwing up, so he sent Kisshan back, or was this the plan from the start? Does Woz even actually work for Puma Zi-O? Is he just playing a part and biding his time for something else? Looks like, as a comment I saw put it quite well, Puma Zi-O is entering the chat next week. Kisshan is gonna throw Geiz and Tsukuyomi around, much to Sougo’s horror, it appears. And Tsukasa... Not sure what Tsukasa is up to yet. Not that I expected to know.

Oh, yeah, and wasn’t there a recent scan leak of Geiz’s Time Majin using a Diend Ride Watch? So... Are we actually gonna be seeing Kaito, or... What? Bc Kaito and Geiz, that’d be a pair. Kaito would probably tease him, and Geiz would fall for it every single time. We’ll see. I have no expectations as far as returns go bc I know they’re limited by availability and willingness, so let’s just go with the flow!

Alright. I’m sorry this was so long. Virtual toffees for anyone who read all that. I still love Geiz, he’s bad at emotions and embarrassed by feelings, I love it. Presuming we’re gonna have a ‘Puma Zi-O is my enemy, Tokiwa Sougo is my friend’ moment at some point (kinda like Ryuuga had over Katsuragi and Sento respectively). Poor Tsukuyomi is trying to wrangle these idiots, but I wish they’d give her a little bit more to do. Tsukasa remains Tsukasa, not surprisingly. Hope to see more of the bitter Time fam that hates each other in the future. Who knows, since Sougo is going to 2068 next week, maybe we’ll even get to meet Goggles.

Also, for anyone wondering why it says ‘Puma Zi-O’ all over this... Well, my computer kept correcting ‘Ouma’ to ‘Puma’ and I eventually decided that ‘Puma’ was funnier. That’s all.

Here’s a shot of Makoto looking attractive despite poor quality to finish off:

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Two brains are better than one | Morgan & Alain

Morgan insisted on going to the butcher herself sometimes. The stores of brains at home were plentiful enough, Morgan couldn’t remember a time when there hadn’t been a few specimens in the shed out back. But since accidentally having a taste of what, as Deirdre gently reminded her, she was meant to feast on, she found herself speeding up the time between meals, hoping that if she stuffed herself with enough squirrels and deer and racoons she might forget that people taste like a three course dinner meal at midnight. That angst didn’t even take into account that she was trying to space out her feedings a little more so she wouldn’t be caught with puny, mortal strength with a hunter again. The whole situation was a mess. But, as a reasonable, grown-ass zombie girl who was definitely not resenting the blandness of squirrel brain, she could go to the butcher and top herself off easy. She rocked on her feet in line, her number pinched between her fingers as she waited.

Sometimes she liked to wonder how many of the customers were like her. A woman had just left with a hefty tub of pig’s blood. And the man at the counter now was asking for brains too. Morgan watched him take his number and mosey to where she waited, comfortable as anything, if not a little tired in his bones. Had he been dead for long? Was it a new death weight, or something much older? Morgan smiled at him. “Don’t see  a lot of people asking for brains around these parts,” she said. “You cook like that a lot?”

Alain did not use to have a thing for cooking offals, but as years passed and he became more sensitized to the consequences of the meat industry, but could not bring himself to give up on eating meat, he had decided that he would start using parts who were usually doomed to end up to the trash, and to turn them into savoury dishes. Veal liver was one of his favorites, but sheep brain was a close second, and exactly why he had pushed the butcher’s door today. Fidgeting idly with his fingers, he waited for his turn, not paying too much attention to his surroundings but rather thinking of who had died instead of him. He had managed to convince himself that it was just an elder who was passing by the shop as Regan screamed, but not knowing for sure was far from pleasant.

He picked up the number given to him and moved to the side to wait. He eyed at the woman smiling at him and refrained a frown. Instead he raised an eyebrow, and scoffed in surprise as she started to talk about his order. Well, it was nice to see that he was not the only one who had taken in interest for pieces that most people would have deemed disgusting. “Oh. Ahem,” he cleared his throat. Well if this did not make it obvious that he was not  good at small talk, what would ? “I do, actually, what about you? I’m planning to make Pad thai with it,” he explained, uncrossing his arms and relaxing a bit in his stance. Talking about cooking was a nice way to start a conversation with him for sure.

Morgan was warmed by the man’s awkwardness more than anything else. Maybe if they had a secret sense, like the fae did, it might all be easier. Here there was no instant safety and, heck, for all she knew, there were hunters trolling the parking lot or working in the shop. It was only paranoia if she was wrong, right? She let out a breath, remembering that this was not the time to let her body return to its natural resting state of death, and smiled again. “Pad Thai?” She asked. “That sounds way more appetizing than the casserole I have planned. I’m uh, still kinda new to cooking this way. But you—“ she couldn’t get a sense of him beyond that he mostly wanted to go home, and who could blame him? “You sound almost like a pro at this, yeah?”

“Southern Asian cooking is really interesting,” Alain replied as she mentioned that she had planned to make a casserole with her purchase. It was not a bad idea, but she would get tired of it, eventually. “I’ve done quite a few casserole with those,” you could tell from his tone that he was not exactly thrilled about these anymore. “I would not say I’m a pro, although I did place second in the pie contest,” he scratched at his cheek and shrugged. He had not expected a win, considering his pie was possibly the most simple in the contest but he’d been glad to see that taste mattered more than aspect to the judges. “Anyway, I feel like cooking is about being able to turn something no one likes, into something great that people will want to eat no matter the ingredients.” Calf sweetbread was another one of his favourites, and it made him wonder if brains could be nice in a vol-au-vent. “I think you should try making Vol-au-vent with those. That might work  well,” he assured her, a bit too enthusiastic perhaps, than one should be about brains.

So brain casserole wasn’t a thrilling time for other zombies too, not just her. Morgan smirked at his knowing tone. It was kind of a shame. Nothing was more of a staple from her childhood suburbias like a baked casserole. She should have made more when she was alive. Now that brains were the only worthwhile food, all she could see them as were wasted tubs of mush. “Wait, you won the pie contest?” She asked, a little heartened that at least it was someone who had a hard time tasting. “With what? Don’t tell me a brain pie. Did you at least get a fun prize?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his philosophy. She liked working with things she knew people would like, especially when she could taste so little of it herself. If she managed to taste anything that wasn’t brains or ‘why yes, my tastebuds can still catch fire,’ it was the kind of ghostly whiff of flavor she was used to getting at the bottom of a seltzer can, which was, more or less, nothing. “Okay, prize winner guy,” she said. “Tell me what a--” she hesitated, certain she was going to butcher the syllables, they were already turning fuzzy in her head. “Vole-a-vent? Is? And I’ll give it a try. Soon, even, with this order.”

“I’m pretty sure a brain pie would have earned me a place in the flop 3,” his shoulders jolted up as he held back his laughter. If Alain could avoid having the whole butcher shop look at him, he would avoid it. “I made a tatin pie. Apples, sugar and butter. I used to have that all the time when I was a kid,” he scratched at the stubble on his cheek and shook his head at her next question. Nope, a karkinoid was not really the kind of prize he wanted to win in a contest, but the certificate was nice. “A goddamn lobster. Not a big fan of seafood, unfortunately,” he gave her a shrug and let his eyes wander toward someone who was picking up bones for his dogs. Heh, now he remembered what he had forgotten to ask the butcher for. “Mmh?” He held up his finger and repeated slowly “Vole o vent. It means flies in the wind, in French. It sounds fancier than it is. It’s puffed pastry and a creamy sauce with sweetbread. I think you can replace this with brains and perhaps, to really enhance the taste of brains, you could mix some directly into the sauce,” his brows furrowed. This should work. It probably would make one hell of a recipe for people like them who enjoyed those parts the rest of people sulked at.

Morgan took out her phone and started taking notes on her phone. It sounded decadent. The texture of the pastry would at least shake things up, and a sauce--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything for herself that came with a sauce. As she took it all down, she felt an odd twist of guilt, it was a lot of trouble for something she had to eat by herself. Maybe she could share it with Remmy if they would ever talk to her again, but that was a fat chance. She smiled kindly at the French zombie all the same. “It sounds like you’ve really got your stuff together,” she said. “Um, can I---” She hesitated and searched the shop. No one around screamed hunter, at least. “I just kinda wonder, don’t you ever find it hard? Getting up every day with your real life behind you, trying to figure out how to put all the days in front of you into some kind of sense. Even if it’s longer than what you had before it’s not the same. And you can’t really explain it to most people, because they’ll never understand what it’s like to be like you in the first place. Uuh...it’s okay, if this is too forward. We don’t actually know each other and---” She checked the order counter. One second, three seconds, five-- “Yep! That’s my number, so, we can be good, really.”

“Wow, this got quite existencial really fast,” scoffing to himself, he brushed his laughter hand with a motion of the hand, making it clear that he was not making fun of her at all, but rather surprised by this turn of event. “But to answer to your question, I make do. Besides, you never know what tomorrow might be made of,” he shrugged. Part of what she said made him raise his eyebrows. Could it be possible… that she heard about the banshee scream? It was true that he had more time left than a week ago… technically. “How did you…” he shook his head. Nevermind how she knew. “You’ll send me pictures of your vol-au-vent ? If you need tips, I can send you a copy of my recipe notebook,” he offered. She went to pick up her order and he nodded politely at her. Alain, who had never been one for small talk, had started chatting more easily with others recently. Maybe being happier had helped him open up to people. Either way, it was nice and he couldn’t recall the last time he felt as if things were nice. “It was lovely talking to you.”

“Sorry, just been thinking too much to myself probably,” Morgan said lightly. She hadn’t realized that he didn’t put together the connection between them and it was far too awkward, too public to say, oh, I’m a month and change on the other side of death, how about you? But she gave him a warm look and hefted her brain supply for good measure before tucking it into her woven grocery bag. “Oh, you know, lucky guess,“ she said. “I can be too forward sometimes, I know. But we can chit chat on main, like normal people, if you want. Even without the existential angst! I’m Morgan. And you are—?”

“Who doesn’t,” Alain brushed it off, and glanced away from her, looking up at the order counter. It would not be long for him either, now. The piece of paper with the number on was now all crumpled from him fidgeting with it. He took his eyes back to her and watched her pack her purchases. “No harm done. I tend to be the exact opposite of that, so that’s a nice balance,” he almost smiled. Still there was kindness in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. “Let’s. Be normal people with the right amount of existential angst only,” his lips pursed before he replied. “I’m Alain.”

[the-1890s-runaway]

👪: Are any relationships between your muses? (friends, family, enemies, etc.) 🐞: Which is your most childish muse? 🎭: With which of your muses can you identify the most?

 munday meme - multimuse edition / @backedagainstthewall

Finally, I can gush about Alaine & Marcus!! My recent, newly added muses on this blog!!

👪: Are any relationships between your muses? (friends, family, enemies, etc.) 

This might be a pretty long answer out of all of these, but I did think of what would happen if Esther came across Marcus or Alaine.

With Alaine, I made this story up that she was in Arizona for a short time, for some reason, and she came across Esther’s camp on the prairie and thought it would be a good idea to try and steal from her. There would be no witnesses that close around and it was night, her only obstacle was that Esther was awake and having an eye on her stuff with the new person approaching. Using her secret weapon, persuasion, Alaine managed to be on good terms with Esther, starting a conversation and calming her hostile behavior (not trusting her).

Alaine managed to talk to Esther for a while before trying to steal from her, which Esther noticed and quickly drew her pistol on her. Both escaped alive and Esther still holds a grudge towards her to this day. This is in a western au for Alaine, as Alaine is mostly based in a modern timing.

For Marcus and Esther, I don’t think they would really become friends. He would probably just start up a simple conversation with her somewhere and that would be the end of it. But if Esther ran into Marcus while he was doing a crime, her wanting the same thing, I had more of an idea. Even though Marcus mostly likes to break in and enter homes, especially such households, he may break and enter into a store one time. Esther, getting impatient and not wanting to shoplift the next day, she walks into the store after noticing it was broken into. 

When the two notice each other, they just kinda stand there for a moment before either one speaks up. I just imagine they fight for the valuable object Marcus has in his hands, or Marcus just runs away with the object, fearing she would want it from him. 

Esther and Marcus aren’t on enemy terms, I am sure if they met again after this in this western au for him, they would be able to get along and maybe partner up for some jobs. I don’t think they would be really close friends though. For Alaine & Esther, they definitely are on enemy terms. 

For Marcus & Alaine, they obviously are brother and sister.

🐞: Which is your most childish muse? 

I have a feeling Alaine & Marcus slightly. Alaine more than Marcus. Marcus’s humor & jokes, maybe, and how he acts to his sister sometimes, but I feel like Alaine would be on the more childish side of things. Esther, Marcus, & Alaine aren’t necessarily that childish in general.

🎭: With which of your muses can you identify the most?

They all are a little different in their own ways, but it also has me slightly in them (as in some parts of me). But maybe Alaine? I am kinda scared to get into relationships. I’m not like her and will back out of a relationship like Alaine will, but I just have a slight fear for relationships. I do want to be in one one day, but I just always have these worries in my head about it. Also, she worries a lot in a relationship. I would worry a lot in a relationship, and I just worry a lot in general. Either way, both me and my muses all have similarities and differences. Esther & Marcus probably have more differences than similarities with me.

( Thank you for sending this in!! I really enjoy these questions and asks about my other muses. Hopefully, I will get more people to interact with Marcus & Alaine on my other blog, as I am really excited to roleplay them! )

[jusdanisha]

Pag-Asa

Alain woke up to the buzzing sound of his alarm clock, still groggy, he lazily stood up as he walked towards his study table to check his calendar. It was a cold Friday morning, he was scheduled to attend his online class for Miss Torres, his adviser and Philosophy teacher at exactly 8 AM. Ten minutes before the class started, he sighed heavily as he saw his backlogs on his to-do list. He immediately opened his laptop, as soon as he checked his Gmail account, he saw a message from his adviser, informing that today is the release of their midterm grades and their classes are canceled. Alain felt utterly nervous, he could not stop scratching his sweaty palms and shaking his legs. He knew it was his worst academic performance, he was aware of how low his scores were. Alain had a hard time coping with the new learning modalities, he thought it would be easier but it was the complete opposite of his expectations.

“Eat your breakfast, Alain! It is already 9 in the morning!”

“Yes Ma, I’m on the way down!” he answered while walking down the stairs quickly.

While his mother was cooking his favorite breakfast of bacon and eggs with fried rice for them, he prepared the plates and utensils on the dining table while his father was busy skimming the newspaper. Alain, sitting down while waiting for their breakfast to be finished cooking, suddenly thought of his grades which made him shiver in fear that he might disappoint his parents.

“How are your grades, Nak? I bet online classes are easier than physical classes. Are you still on the honors list?” his father asked him while they are having a meal.

“I do not know yet, Pa. Our adviser told us that today is the releasing of grades” answered Alain.

“Remember that you are our only hope, Alain. Your older brother have not graduated college because he failed his major subjects since he followed his passion for photography. If you become a non-achiever like your Kuya Abel, then who will inherit our business? We built the company for your future, Nak. You must become a successful businessman like me and your Mama, not an another disappointment.”

“Yes, Papa. I am doing everything I can.” Alain responded while staring blankly at his plate, trying so hard not to argue with his father.

“I know you did your best since you are a smart kid, no doubt you will maintain your high marks” said by his mother who always believed in him.

Alain wanted to defend his older brother, but he decided to keep it all to himself. His Kuya Abel wanted to become a photographer, but his Mama and Papa were strongly against of it. Abel decided to leave their house, determined to become an independent adult and follow his dream. As a consequence of his older brother’s action, Alain is the new breadwinner of their family.

“Ah Nak, I forgot to tell you something. Your mother will accompany me to conduct a site visit later at Polomolok. Just stay in your room and study well, okay? We will buy you a pasalubong when we come back.”

“Okay Pa, take care and drive safely” Alain told his parents before standing up heading back to his room.

He was able to calm himself down after having a conversation with his parents. Alain opened his laptop again to check for new updates, but there were none. He decided to load up Facebook and he unexpectedly saw a throwback post from three years ago. It was an album filled with pictures of him and his friends riding a motorcycle on their favorite spot in Pag-Asa, a tourist spot located in his old hometown, Alabel.

Alain remembered that there were no classes for tomorrow and his parents were out of town. Unhesitatingly, he prepared an oversized carry-on bag filled with casual and bright colored clothes and fresh and ready to cook meals and beverages, ready to seize his rest day at his childhood home.

For his journey back home, he rode an old jeepney going to Alabel. While he was traveling, he noticed how much his hometown had changed. It looks brighter than how he remembers, and there were so many more stores opened up now than back then. He was excited to meet his friends and other people who lived in their hometown. When he arrived at the terminal in Poblacion, he saw one his old friends Lester, who was driving a sikad.

"Oy Lester!" Alain loudly called Lester.

"Oy Alain I’m glad to see you again. It has been a while!" Lester greeted back.

"I’ve been really busy with school, I barely have any free time" Alain sighed as he replies.

"Hop on. Where do you want to go?" asked Lester.

"Back to the old house"  

“All right, let’s go!"

On their way to Alain’s old house, Alain was hit with a massive dose of nostalgia. The beauty of the nature and how green the grass were. The smell of the fresh air and how it felt on your skin. Everything felt nostalgic for Alain. He stared at his old friend and realized how much he has changed. He noticed that Lester was a lot more tan than he used to be, Alain figured that it was because Lester has been working for a while by now. Alain got curious as to how Lester could keep up working and while attending online classes.

"How do you handle doing this much while attending classes?" Alain suddenly asks.

Lester sighs and and sadly says "I don’t. I didn’t enroll this year because my family can’t afford to buy stuff for school. It’s a shame but that’s how it is."

Alain was surprised and sad about what Lester told him.

"I’m sorry it has to be that way for you, but there’s still next year, right?"  

"Right. What matters right now is that my family is healthy." Lester replied optimistically.

“How’s your Mama and Papa?” asked Alain, it was ages ago since he saw Aunt Julie and Uncle Leo, Lester’s parents.

“They are doing good, but the farm is having a crisis due to the pandemic. No choice but I had to drive sikad everyday to sustain our daily needs and you know, Tatay’s still sick so I had to buy his medications weekly.”

Alain was saddened to hear Lester’s situation but he wanted to make him feel at ease even for just the briefest moment. While they were talking, Alain glances upon a familiar house below the hill and remembers their other friend.

"Ow right, where is James?" Alain asks while cutting-off Lester.

“Ah James, he’s probably still at work but he’ll be home soon I think.”

“James is working? Why?” asked Alain who seemed shocked by the information.

“Did you already forget what was his dream when we were young? He always said that he wanted to be independent from his Mommy and Daddy, you know. He wanted to become a so called millionaire without his parent’s money. He’s always optimistic about that, right?”

“Oh I didn’t forget that but I didn’t expect that he would actually do that, his parents always babied him since we were young. They wouldn’t even let James go outside their house without their housemaid.” Alain said, chuckling.

“Do you still remember that? We always wanted to become someone like James when we were still kids, right? I wonder what he’s doing tonight after his work.”

"You both should come to the house later, let’s have a bite together!" Alain invited his friends to have dinner tonight at their old house.

“For real? Sure, Alain! I will send a message to James. Make sure to prepare lots of food and alcohol!” said Lester who was clearly excited to catch up with his childhood friends.

Alain having finally arrived back to their old neighborhood, felt rejuvenated. On his way to their old house, he happily greeted all of their old neighbors and they welcomed him back. Seeing the old houses in the neighborhood had him nostalgic again. The little children that he knew were all grown up now. His first moments back were wholesome and happy. As he reminisced, he remembered that he had to prepare the house for dinner later with friends. He quickly went inside to prepare.

It is dinner time and the two finally arrive, Alain excitedly rushes to open the door.

“Welcome welcome” Alain says.

“Hey!” said by both James and Lester.

“Welcome back Buddy! I was surprised when I got the text saying you wanted to have dinner” James laughs while saying.

“Oh right, I brought a gift I’ll bring it out after we eat dinner” said by James.

“All right then, shall we eat?” Alain uttered while preparing their meal.

“Let’s go, I’m starving!” Lester holds his belly as he says it.

As they finish eating dinner and catching up, James rushed outside to get his gift for Alain. James’ gift turned out to be a case of beer, both Lester and Alain looked at each other and laughed. They are now well into the night and about four bottles in, Alain opened up about his current struggle with his parents, and school. James being the most frank in the group, downplays Alain’s struggles.

“Oh c’mon, that stuff isn’t that bad!” James says with little care, this clearly upsets Alain.

“Hey, don’t say that. It’s been pretty hard on me.” Alain replied.

“You’re being dramatic!” said loudly by James.

Alain stands up and chugs down two glasses of beer. As he is about to say something James cuts him off.

“Why are you so serious about it, anyway? Your “struggles” aren’t even that hard. Honestly, you should be thankful.”

“What are you trying to say James?” Alain asked.

“You’re making a big deal out of such small problems, man. I mean look at Lester, he’s having an even rougher time but you don’t see him whining about it. I didn’t realize how privileged you’ve become, Alain.”

After hearing what James had to say, Alain was left without words. His heart felt crushed. His eyes felt heavy. Alain did not expect James to say such things, it broke his heart. Alain, being drunk, could not bear with the pain and broke down. He fell on his knees and cried like he had never cried before in his life.

Alain tries to speak, his words getting jumbled because of his crying.

“I understand that you think my problems are small, but to me it’s not as easy as you say it is. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. I try to push myself to do better, but I can’t. My mind doesn’t want to. My body doesn’t want to. I want to quit school because I hate the way it is right now. It hasn’t been healthy to me.”

Lester and James get up from their seats but don’t know what to say. Alain wipes tears off of his face and continues to talk.

“How could you of all people understand how I feel? Ever since you were young, your future was pretty much laid out for you by your parents. You don’t know how it feels to bear the pressure. You don’t understand how painful it is for me to hear my parents talk bad about my brother because of how he chose to live his life. You don’t understand how much a risk it is for my family if I fail. So how dare does a RICH kid like you who doesn’t understand a thing about anything judge me?” James shocked from Alain’s outburst of anger, becomes speechless.

“I’ve been so sad. Everyday things became such a drag to me. All I think about now are things that I have to do for school. I feel like every hour of every day all I think about are that stuff without rest. Add to that the pressure from my parents. The pressure of not becoming like my brother. Not becoming a failure. If you think I’m making a big deal out of this, that’s because it is a big deal. It’s such a big deal. If you can’t understand that then you’re not my friend.”

Lester got so tensed up he could hardly speak, as he was stuck in the middle of their fight.

It’s always on my mind, day in and day out. I don’t know what to think anymore because of it. I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know what I want to do anymore.” Alain said as he starts to cry harder.

Alain continued his breakdown. With his head down, he continued to cry and cry. Struggling to grasp his breath. Lester reaches out to Alain. Alain looks up to Lester when he feels Lester’s hand on his shoulder. Lester sits down next to Alain on the floor and puts his arm over Alain’s shoulder.

“We didn’t know you were carrying around that much weight. I’m sorry for what James had to say, I think he meant well but he just didn’t think it through with what he said. Now that you’ve told us what you were going through, we understand. I don’t think that any of our struggles are more significant compared to each other. Everyone has their own demons to face and what you’re going through is hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone. We’re your friends, Alain. We’re here for you no matter what it is you go through.”

After hearing what Lester had to say, Alain thought about it. He realized that the reason he struggled a lot was because he was bearing with it all alone. He thought that Lester was right.

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said, buddy. I didn’t mean to invalidate your pain. If only I knew how heavy it was for you, I wouldn’t have thought of things like that.” James apologized.

“It’s all right, James. I realized some things because of you two. I realized that I had good friends in you two. Coming home was the big push that I needed to get back on track. Thanks for everything, boys.” Alain replied.

Lester and James cried while laughing because of what Alain said and they both embraced him. After hugging they realized that Alain had fallen asleep. They finished up and brought him to his bed and went home themselves.

Alain found himself lying on his old rickety bed, while suffering from a bad hangover. He woke up to the sound of his phone, there is someone who's been calling him.

"Nak, where are you? It's already 10 o'clock in the evening!" his father's voice made his eyes wide open.

"I'm sorry Pa, I just went to 7/11 to buy some snacks. Don't worry, I’m heading home right now." Alain said while packing his bag and wearing his shoes, moving quickly to go to the terminal and trying to catch up for the last jeepney.

"Add some snacks and drinks, we're going to celebrate something" his father uttered enthusiastically.

"What is that, Pa?" he asked.

"Miss Torres messaged us, Congratulations, Alain! You never fail to make us proud."

[kalosstarters]

Phone calls from the other side of the world, part ?

A/N: I have written this like months ago, but I kinda wanted to save it until I’d reach the Kanto part of this fic. However, I don’t know when that’s gonna happen, so I’m gonna post this now anyway. I was inspired by the ongoing poke/shipping week and remembered that I HC Mairin is the biggest pokeshipper out there. 

What you need to know before reading this fic is that it takes place during Mairin’s individual journey, after she has challenged the Hoenn league, her first Pokémon league, unsuccessfully. After that she travels to Kanto to meet up with Ash. She’s 14ish in this fic, so not much is going on between her and Alain yet.  Mairin’s speech is in the normal font, Alain’s is italized.

part 1, 2, 3, but you don’t have to read those to be able to understand this one.

From Pallet Town, Kanto, to Lumiose City, Kalos

“Hi, Alain!”

“Hi there, Mairin. It’s been a while… “

“I guess so... I’ve been kinda busy after the Hoenn league. Sorry, I would have wanted to...”

“Hey, it’s OK. But would you mind sharing what exactly happened there? You haven’t called after the first round.”

“It’s a very uninteresting story, you wouldn’t care about hearing it.”

“Mairin, didn’t we both agree to be more open with each other before you left? You know I want to hear about it.”

“I lost. The other trainer had too many fire types. The end of story. Are you happy now?”

“No, Mairin, I’m not. Listen, it’s OK to lose. I’m not mad about that. You did your best, right?”

“Right...”

“But I don’t like that you kept this to yourself and didn’t ask for help or support when you needed it the most. It reminds me too much of myself back when...”

“I know. Sorry. I won’t do that again.”

“...”

“But guess what! I’m finally here, in Pallet Town, Kanto! And I’m at Ash’s home now! Ash’s mum, who is really sweet, by the way, cooked us an amazing meal, but for some reason when I asked her if I could help, she declined.”

“I bet Ash told her you cause too much trouble in the kitchen…”

“What did you say?”

“Uhh, nothing. I’m sure she just didn’t want to bother a guest. So, how’s Ash?”

“He seems fine. He just returned from Alola and is now planning on new adventures. But it’s almost as if... something happened while he was there. He keeps showing a bright face when he’s with me, but when he thinks I’m not seeing, he falls all serious and thoughtful...”

“He has helped us so much. Maybe it’s our turn to help him.”

“If he lets us... He has promised to show me around; we are going to travel together here in Kanto for a little while. That could be my chance.”

“Sounds good. Tell him I’m still looking forward to having that battle one day! Oh and Serena tells him her best greetings too.”

“I will! Speaking of Serena... I know something she wouldn’t like. A girl named Misty is here at Ash’s too. Apparently she’s an old friend of his who was traveling with him when he was starting his journey. But the thing is that I don’t think it’s just a friendship, at least not on her part. And Ash doesn’t mind her presence one bit either. You should have seen his face when she arrived. It was a real smile, not one that he gives us. And they bicker a lot, kinda like… us.”

“Is that so? He has never told us about her.”

“We were kinda busy with… other things when he was with us.”

“… yeah, I know. But we have talked on the phone with him even after that incident. Anyway.. what’s up in /your/ life? What are your plans?”

“I’m gonna rest here for a couple of days and deliver a package from Professor Birch to Professor Oak, and then we are going to travel to Pewter City where my first Kanto gym battle is awaiting. Another old friend of Ash’s lives there, I think his name is Brock. He used to be a gym leader but now he’s a pokemon doctor, just like you will be!”

“I think I’ve heard of him! Didn’t he also write that bestselling book ‘What happened during that summer’ and its sequel ‘The aches of heart’ which told about him and some young female professor...”

“Alainnnn… How do you know about those books?”

“Ehh.. Professor Sycamore must have told about them! You know he likes cheesy stuff like that!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Excuse me, I don’t think I heard you.”

“I said I guess so.”

“Rrrright. Anyway, please give me a call when you are Pewter City, I’m sure that Brock guy has a lot of information that could be useful to me too.”

“I will! But I gotta go now, I think those two are at it again… They are totally cute by the way. I can see they really enjoy bickering with each other.”

“Mairin, I know what you have in your mind, and I’m telling you, don’t do it. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later!