#and it is emotionally taxing for me to continue living in this house where no one makes the effort to understand me

[acatpiestuff]

My Commissions are open again because I am trying to move out and don't currently have a job

I also have a Kofi, if you'd like to donate but right now I need to save up some more money if I even hope to leave this house. I do want to mention that I finish sketch commissions a lot faster than any of the other types of commissions.

Here is the link to my prices

and some samples of my work below the cut.

Sketches:

Lineart:

Colored:

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer (you are here) // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- NSFW warning below, gn!reader

lucifer, who would never say no to lord diavolo. he wasn't exactly fond of the whole "exchange program" idea, knowing the power imbalance between the three realms, but lord diavolo had his heart set on bringing humans and angels into the devildom. lucifer could only do his best to make sure things would go smoothly. the weakest member-- some human devoid of magical skills or means to defend themselves, unlike the other applicants-- would be living in the house of lamentation, where him and his brothers could make sure you at least survived the whole program. he's not exactly pleased by the whole thing (and hiding belphegor away for the whole year will certainly be taxing, both mentally and emotionally) but, whatever the prince wants...

lucifer, who doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. he doesn't like how you're cozying up to his brothers, wrapping them around your fingers with pacts, avoiding his eyes as he watches your interactions. make no mistake. you're here on the whims of lord diavolo, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to you. just keep your head down and you'll survive. oh-- and don't make meddling in his family's affairs a habit. he will not hesitate even a moment to get rid of you if he perceives you as a threat.

lucifer, who is quite popular. even though he makes only a minimal effort to socialize with others (he's far too busy with student council work to cultivate a large group of friends), nobles and common folk alike flock to him. this, in turn, brings forward a lot of romantic attention. it's not uncommon for at least one demon a week to confess their undying love to him-- something he politely yet firmly declines. but it's foolish to assume that a man such as him doesn't have needs or desires. lucifer oozes sex appeal with just a heated glance, and most of the time he doesn't even need to speak before the demon in his sights is crossing the room at lord diavolo's party to meet with him. he politely excuses himself from the prince's side to escort the lucky demon somewhere private. there's no romance in his touches, but there is passion, all lust and want, as he uses his teeth to yank his glove off and roughly caresses the demon's quivering sex. he's not above using spit as lubrication, it falling from his lips with husky taunts as he lines himself up with their hole, now thoroughly slick with with their juices and his saliva, pushing in carefully as to not cause any pain. his gloved hand clamps over their mouth while the exposed one reaches forward to toy with their sex. he groans when they clench around him, then buries his face in their neck as he begins to fuck them from behind into a wall, or bookshelf, or whatever's closest. he murmurs filth in their ear as he fucks them ruthlessly, their muffled cries of pleasure meeting and dying against his palm. they continue until he's satisfied, until cum dribbles out of their tight hole and forms creamy rings around the base of his cock. he pulls their underwear up with a swat against their ass and tells them not to make a mess that barbatos will have to clean later. he stalks off to find a bathroom to freshen up in-- if they're lucky, they'll hear from him again in the future.

lucifer, who can set his pride aside for you. you've wormed your way into his heart, somehow, charming him during the exchange program with a combination of persistence and genuine care. he won't admit he's smitten, for he is far too proud to bicker with his brothers for your attention. you'll have to see it yourself. notice the way he looks at you from across the room and acknowledges you with a nod, or the brush of his hand against your arm as he passes you in the hallway, or the way he'll decline a call just to hear you speak a little longer. his ballroom rendezvous cease almost instantaneously, without his notice-- the demons may try to catch his eye again, but his ruby gaze never strays from you, from watching you sway in his arms on the dancefloor. he's head over heels. fuck, he's so in love with you it hurts. nights like these peel back the layers of the avatar of pride and let the rest of the world get a glimpse at the sides of him reserved just for you. all for you.

lucifer, who loves nights like these. the two of you are intertwined in his office, you sat on his lap as he sips lazily at a mixture of demonus and gold hellfire newt syrup. his blood pumps loudly in his ears but all he can see is you. you don't give him a command to cancel the syrup's effects, but he doesn't mind-- you command him with your hands, with your eyes as you run your fingers along his body. his crawl up your side before cradling the back of your head, pulling you into a heated kiss. your body melts into his like wax under a flame, conforming to the curves and planes of his body like they were made for you, fuck, Father must have made him for you. why else would you feel so perfect in his arms? why else would he have been damned, fallen from the celestial realm for defending love between human and a supernatural being, fated to experience it himself? there's an invisible string tying the two of you together. he wears it like a badge of honor. he'd let you tie him up with it if you kept grinding your hips against his like that, tongue lapping at the skin of his throat as you mark him. he can't bring himself to care about the taunts he'll endure tomorrow. lord diavolo's curious looks and pointed questions mean nothing when he has you on top of him. he's drunk on your love, surely, demonus and syrup blended in his veins paling in comparison to the love he has for you. he'd do it all again, fall to hell, lose his life if it meant you'd moan like that as he scissors his fingers in your hole, wet with your intertwined saliva, his precum, and your slick, the juices glinting in the firelight as he pushes them in and out of you. he won't stop until you're cumming around his fingers. he'd normally toy with you longer, but he's honestly so overwhelmed by the heat of your love that he feels he might fully go insane if he's not inside you within the next minute. you align yourself over his weeping cock and ease yourself down. he moans, loudly, enough for someone nearby to hear. lucifer doesn't give a shit. your hands find his and your fingers intertwine, stabilizing you enough to begin lovingly, carefully bouncing yourself on his cock. he's been thoroughly damned, that he's sure of, but this is truly the closest thing to heaven he'll ever see again-- your love is worth a thousand angels, a million glimpses into the celestial realm. and it's all his, just as he's all yours.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

[libertarianconservativechristian]

I am against government welfare for several reasons.

One is that, long term, it does not seem to actually help lift people out of poverty. You can only get welfare if you make below a certain amount of money or work below a certain number of hours or you have less than a certain amount of money to your name. Once you get above those limits, welfare is taken away from you, leaving you worse off than if you simply stayed with welfare in the first place. So welfare might help keep people from starving or losing their housing, but it does not help them have better lives overall.

Another is that charities and non profits can do a far better job of working with people to help raise them out of poverty than the government can. There's a non profit near me that helps provide housing for people for a year or two, gives them job interview help, skills to get a job, and continued help after they move out. They have a food bank program to help people budget for food without needing to worry about money. They have a medical clinic that helps people get seen by doctors and nurses without needing to worry about insurance or large payments. These types of organizations help lift people out of poverty more than the government, which cannot show people direct attention and cannot relate to them as human beings.

Finally, government being involved in welfare means someone cannot truly chose where to send their money. Since we are taxed for the government to provide welfare, or the government borrows without intent to pay it back, which is simply a tax on future generations, we cannot chose which charities or non profits to send our money to. Maybe I want my money to go to the non profit I mentioned above, but the government uses my money to pay for someone to give money to Medicare or Medicaid, which I am not in favor of. That takes away my freedom to choose how I help people.

Many people's critique of libertarians is that we do not care about others. I disagree. We simply do not think the government should be doing the caring, but rather each other. There are people who need help in this world and there always will be. It is, therefore, our job to help them financially and physically and emotionally and spiritually. We can feed them food and give them housing and help them feel as though they have worth as human beings. A government cannot do all those things.

[romantic-reveries]

Today was way more emotionally taxing than I would’ve expected, considering.

I spent the day with him. And it was fantastic and lovely and everything I wanted it to be except the part where we (he) is still no closer to figuring out the future. I thought… I thought that’s what this trip was for.

He brought it up before we even kissed. I’d been feeling it all day, and I thought it was the same fear of abandonment I’d been contending with all week that had me fighting the urge tooth and nail not to call it off. But he asked how I saw this—us—working. I don’t know, so I asked him. He said him not wanting to do long distance is hard, and me not driving makes it even harder. When I mentioned my grandma would drive me—she did with my ex, or met him halfway—he said that was a big ask. And he’s not wrong, but… that’s the only way it would work. I like to hope I’ll drive at some point, and maybe that’s motivation to try harder to overcome the fear, but… I mean, even if I drove, you have to drive through Atlanta to get to him, and that’s a huge ask for someone who has spent this long terrified of driving. If he lived on this side of Atlanta, maybe.

I mostly don’t understand, though. He knew that before he came. I didn’t hide it from him. He made it sound like we needed to talk about it in person, like he wanted to see what the commute was like, see if it was the same in person as it has been on the phone, but there isn’t much to say to that—him not wanting it and it being inconvenient seems pretty unmalleable. So why did he come? What was the point? When we talked about us meeting, it was always in the context of it being the next logical step to figure things out, except nothing changed, so why did we do it? And it wasn’t even a sexual thing, because he didn’t even originally plan on coming to my house, and even when he did, we didn’t go past fully clothed heavy petting.

And it’s funny, because when my grandma (bless her) asked if he’d be back, he intentionally didn’t answer, only said, “it’s not that far” in agreement with her, but when she asked previously how the trip was, he’d said “it won’t be that bad to make”, won’t, as if him coming back was a foregone thing.

I spent half the day wanting to cry because of the haunting feeling I was already carrying that I’ll never actually see him again. That this was just one beautiful day. And I kept reminding myself—he’s here now. Soak it up, be in the moment, enjoy it for what it is, and even if this is all it is, it was still good. Important. It’s fundamentally changed me, I think. Made me realize that men like him do exist. Who are consistent and stable and patient and kind.

But the thing is, multiple times today, I thought: I could do this forever. I’ve never wanted someone like that before, even guys I thought I was crazy about. He just feels like home. He’s somehow become my best friend. I don’t know if I’m in love with him, but I think I’m falling in love with him, and I’m fucking terrified.

Because if those guys I’ve fancied myself infatuated with before, who gave me nothing—if they hurt me? He has the ability to absolutely shatter me. I can’t imagine the kind of pain that would bring. The idea of continuing this… we both want each other and we flirt and we’re sexual with each other but nothing more is going to happen? The idea of him eventually getting back on dating apps and actively trying to date other people? Makes me sick to even consider.

And the worst part is, I couldn’t even be mad at him. I can’t blame him for wanting someone he can see daily if he wants to, and really, he deserves better than me anyway. Someone more stable. Someone who has their shit together. He’s such a wonderful person. He might be one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever met. And I’m lucky to know him, to have had him at all, even in this small capacity.

And even after spending all day with me, as he was leaving, I said I hoped he had a safe trip, and he said he’d text me when he got home. Then he said, “actually, you can call. I mean, I’m gonna be on the road for two hours.” He spent all fucking day with me and he still wants to talk.

And I’m telling myself, if it’s meant to be, if I’m worth it to him, he’ll make it work. But that doesn’t stop the maelstrom of conflicted feelings inside me. After he left, all I wanted to do was wash him off. The fear I’ve had for weeks, that maybe he’s just dragging this out until he decides he wants to date again, flared magnificently to life. Turns out I couldn’t completely wash him off—he gave me my first hickey at the ripe old age of almost 29 and all I can think about any of this is: why?

[eloquent-music]

// I know I keep saying I am going to get on and then I don’t. Working full time again has gotten me into a deep schedule especially during the week but I’m waiting to see if they’ll switch me to a schedule I want. And every time I try to come on something happens 🤦‍♀️ I really am going to try to get on today to have some peace from my life right now

Since last Saturday I’ve been dealing with the mudslide and while that doesn’t bother me even if the situation will only get worse (my house has been burned in a fire so disasters don’t phase me), dealing with my apartment complex has been physically and emotionally taxing. Half of the complex keeps getting shut down including my area (like where my reserved spot is) and opening back up. Last minute they tell you to move or you’ll get towed and charged (like you have under an hour to move even if you’re at work and can’t come home to move your other vehicles it doesn’t work that way). Some people can’t access their own apartment. From 7am to 10pm the whole lot is closed “supposedly” even though no one is working so half the complex you can’t park putting cars out of spots. Mostly people won’t move which is now delaying this whole thing to now Day 5. You’d think oh I can park somewhere else, nah the whole area is closed off due to the slide and trying to get the mud all cleared. So they want you to maybe get lucky and compete with the complex for a spot or park a half a mile down into a grocery store parking lot that you cannot park in at night or just figure out somewhere else to go while they won’t accommodate you and you’re paying up the ass for your unit because it’s the only thing you can get with the giant influx of people moving to this small area and the renting wars on homes. I’m extremely frustrated beyond belief that I’m paying so much money and this parking situation keeps getting worse when they keep shutting down giant portions of parking when there isn’t enough parking in the complex in the first place. My area is cleared of mud but they still keeping shutting it down. There has to be some give like lower the rent or let people pay half for next month with how awful this has been to deal with. Oh yeah and the slide fucked my car up so that’s another fantastic thing to deal with. I don’t see flood damage but I can’t see the whole engine but it did get pretty high where my door got stuck and my car is all kinds of scratched up from debris.

I’m over it. The mountain is going to continue to come down with the lack of reprod from above. Some buildings might have shifted and might get compromised now. It’s not difficult to make the effort of preventative measures. Build larger storm drains, you’re on the hillside with the Sierras above and for the love of god plant trees and other native plants that’ll enrich the soil. Small slides warn you for impending giant slides. The topography doesn’t lie and I work with maps daily. And screw the people coming up and hassling us that live here that it’s our fault, it’s not our fault and we were forced to live here. The slide came from way above. I feel like I’m going insane dealing with this 24/7 I can’t catch a break I want out of the area for the whole weekend.

[cher-writes]

Silver Screen / Silver Pole | Robert Sheehan x Reader (18+)

Summary: A night of celebration in a LA strip club takes an interesting and unexpected turn when a contrarian actor winds up offending the wrong stripper. But night is long and the possibilities are endless, where will it take them?

Word Count: 7.3k

CW: Mention of sexual harassment, Consensual slapping, NSFW smut

A/N: This one is surprisingly not bloody at all and the smut isn't wild either so like most everyone can read it. Although it's emotionally very heavy. So, get ready to feel some shit. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Special thanks to @crisis-of-joy for being there for me the whole month I took to complete this emotionally taxing fic and also for being my kind beta reader & editor.

Burning on it’s way down, the third glass of whiskey finally gave her some life she desperately needed. Deafening music throbbed throughout her veins, drowning the club in the background. She wanted to drown with it too but she couldn’t, she was there to work and rent for the month was already due. The fourth glass was on the verge of meeting with her bitter mouth when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t drink so much, you’ll trip on the stage,” Coco practically shouted in her ear. Coco was the only friend she had in that goddamn place and It wasn’t a very rare occurrence that Coco had to drag her blackout drunk body out of the club. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she had a problem. Considering that she was already on her third strike of the month and the third drink of the night, Coco knew better than to let her get drunk this early.

 “I can’t stay here and be sober at the same time,” she shouted back at Coco, “especially after...nevermind,” but decided against talking about it and instead focused her energy on finishing the fourth glass, which was gone just as quickly as the words stopped coming out of her mouth.

 She could read the concern on Coco's face and sense the questions brewing behind it as Coco spoke up, “I want to know what the fuck is up with you but I have to go now, Caleb came home from school hours ago, it’s pretty late and I have to cook him dinner.”

“What happened to Larry? Can’t he take care of the kid? He’s fucking jobless anyway.”

“He got in a bad fight again. I can barely afford Caleb’s school fees and now the medical bills.”

“If only you had divorced him, you wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

“And if only you had been less violent towards customers, you wouldn’t be on the verge of getting fired. But, here we are.”

She furrowed her brows at this sudden sharp stab of truth by Coco and dealt with it the only way she knew how to, by ordering another drink. Coco crossed her arms letting out a deep sigh and said, “Look, I'm only trying to help you, (y/n). Sam wanted me to go up. You see that group seating in the fifth VIP booth? Up there. They are celebs and celebrating something so, ya know, good money. I said no cause, as I said I gotta go home, but I convinced him to let you go up there. It was hard given your recent less-than-favorable behavior, but I managed to.” Coco snatched the already empty glass from her hand and continued, “So stop drinking, go up there and get that money. And for the love of God, behave yourself or this might be your last night here.”

Giving her hand a quick but tight squeeze, Coco got up then soon after disappeared into the crowd. She thought to herself about how a last night there wouldn’t be so bad if she could afford it, and wanted another drink immediately to kill that thought, but Coco's words haunted her ears. She looked over her shoulder to see three men sitting in the booth, laughing.

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

Her head was in a violent swirl, vision blurry. She was way too drunk to be spinning around the pole, but she had an audience to entertain and had no one but herself to blame.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, the song was thudding against her skull. Pulling herself together, she counted every second, waiting for the song to end. She could feel the eyes on her, sticking to every bit of her, just as invasive as it was the very first day yet, she couldn’t care less. She had to live through it if she wanted the money and she needed the money if she wanted to live. The room was dancing circles around her as the tips came flying in, she kept counting the seconds, sliding down the pole, and your knee socks.

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

She was swaying dangerously on her way down from the stage. If the song didn’t end when it did, she would have thrown up without a shadow of a doubt. At that point, she didn’t even know how or what she danced, only the awful sickness in her stomach let her know that it was more than she could take.

She needed to chat up the men, try and convince them to buy a champagne room before the next song came on, which she feared was way too soon for her liking. Nevertheless she tried to steady herself but the big glass platforms messed with her earnest efforts, nausea kicking her in the stomach once again, letting her know of her limits. 

She didn’t ever really look at the men who sat in front of her, leering at her, they all looked the same, smelt the same and talked the same. So she followed the same old routine, bending down just enough to give them a view up her tits. Pressing her arms closer, she slurred, “What are we celebrating, gentlemen?”

 She absolutely hated how she sounded pandering to men, two pitches higher. “My friend over here landed a role in a Spielberg film!” the middle one spoke up and pointed to the one sitting on the right side. The one in question grinned in response and repulsion licked the back of her neck at the sight of that. Yet she needed to please him, “That’s amazing! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face on the billboards everyday now while driving,” she said and fantasized about having enough money to burn down all the billboards in LA and maybe LA with it too.

 “Hell yeah you will!” the one in the middle spoke up and broke her reverie so she pretended he was supporting her fantasy instead. “Oh please! Speak for yourself!” the one on the right perked up in his seat and continued, “He’s literally working with Fincher AND he got engaged!”. The one in the middle gave a revolting smirk at the very humble revelation of his accomplishment and it was enough to turn her stomach or maybe it was the alcohol, she couldn’t really decipher.

 “Oh really?” she looked at the man, tilted her head and said, “And you came to a stripclub to celebrate your engagement?”, her face deadpan. Notes of contempt stuck out like thorns from her voice, making her sound way more intense than she intended to.

 He tensed up visibly at her sudden razor-edged tone and, even though she didn't want to, she had to ease the situation. I can’t piss off these bastards again, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. “Boys will be boys!” she said, not being able to think of something better that wasn’t inherently insulting, and laughed the most disgusting laugh of her life. If she could she would pour gasoline down her throat just for uttering those words.

 She couldn’t bear to linger at that conversation point anymore so she turned her attention to the man sitting on the far left. He looked distant and foreign, staring but not really looking at her. There was a peculiar absence behind his distinct green eyes, which she would even call beautiful under different circumstances. And that, something about that absence, made her want to zero in on him.

“And what about you? Did you win an Oscar or something?” mockery ringed clear in her voice, which brought his attention back to the presence. Startled slightly, he straightened his posture while saying, “No, not really... not yet at least,” he smiled sheepishly and continued, “I’m just here with them”.

“Come to think about it, I’ve never really seen you anywhere,” she said without thinking too much. In fact, she didn’t really pay enough attention to how he looked to recognize him even if she did. 

Something intense flashed his eyes for a brief second. She couldn’t quite put her fingers on what it was but she could feel the energy shift very quickly between them.

“Oh I’ve been in things but I’d be surprised if you did see any of them,” his voice now stripped of the delicacy it previously held. She could feel the air between them getting unusually heavy, his words penetrating through her skin a bit too effortlessly, a bit too swiftly that it was unsettling.   

“And why exactly would you be surprised?”

“You know...cause people like you don’t usually watch the kind of films I do.”

“What do you mean by ‘people like me?’”

“You know...people of your...stature,” he trailed off. Blood rushed the back of her neck as soon as the words hit her ears. She could feel her vision burning, a hot wave washed the crown of her skull, something unruly building at the base of her being. Clenching her jaw so as not to let it take over her, she said, “Stature huh? Fancy! I reckon from your accent that, wherever the hell you’re from, people get a kick out of looking down on others with such wispy language.”

 She could sense the same unruly substance dancing behind his chest, but he was far better at keeping it on a leash.

“I wasn’t looking down upon you. What I was merely getting at is that some people aren’t cut for apprehending particular types of films,” he sounded snarky but calm, the type of calm that’s tainted with scorn, which only sent ripples of rage down her ribs.

  “Oh so you think just because I’m a stripper by profession that I wouldn’t understand your low-budget dumb indie movies?” she was getting visibly worked up now. Traces of her seductive posture vanished long ago but there was a new hostile energy flowing through her stance.

“I didn’t say that -”

“No, of course you didn’t say that, you only meant that. You meant what you think and every one of you think that we aren’t people with brains and emotions. No, no, we’re just sacks of meat to ogle at in exchange of money, and then grope when you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I think you're trying to put words in my mouth, this is -”

“God! you think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? You contrarian little shit!” she could feel it in her bones. She knew what was coming. There were people behind, or maybe beside, her, trying to talk to her, probably. She could hear no one, not even the previously unbearable blaring music. She had tunnel vision and it was fixed on him. The air she breathed chafed her nose. Her nerves thumped as her heart leapt at irregular rapid intervals.

  “Excuse me! but i neve -” he said as his body went alert. Posture anticipating something violent, flight or fight.

  “You think you're better than me because I'm a stripper and you got enough money to buy me?” her voice was icy as she spoke, “You LA people are all the fucking same. You get a little money in your pockets and you think you own the world and anyone who isn’t jerking off to your pretentious bullshit isn’t worthy enough to deserve basic fucking decency. Huh is that it?” she quickly jumped on top of him, straddling him.

He was frozen under her as she leaned in and murmured, “Well then allow me to show you”, she pulled away, her left hand clutching his shoulder as right fist rose the air, “HOW FUCKING BETTER THAN ME YOU ARE!” then her fist crashed on the side of his mouth with all the force she could muster, releasing a knot built in her chest since she checked in with the manager in the evening. Hot, sweltering adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

 The impact resulted in him burying his face in his right shoulder so she grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to face her. His lips were starting to swell up so she decided to help it. His eyes went blank as her fist met his face once more.

 Involuntarily, her hand was raising in the air again when she felt a strong pull from behind. The security guard, twice her size, yanked her away from him. People gathered around them staring at her, the music stopped to her relief. The guard twisted her arms behind her back, enough to leave bruises that’ll sting for days to come. She couldn't move, her sight went hazy yet she felt this strange cool serenity soothe her tensed muscles. His friends were crowding him, probably consoling him. She could neither hear them nor make out their faces from her almost closed eyelids. She was pretty sure she was falling asleep in the guard’s painful hold until she heard a certain voice and the hair at the back of her neck stood up. 

“What the fuck! She’s at it AGAIN? Sir, I'm so sorry -” Sam, the manager’s voice pierced her ears as he rushed into the booth. As he was talking to them, commotion rose in the background. She could feel blind rage beating with every thump of her heart. If it wasn’t for the guard holding her in place, she would have skinned him alive by now. She was struggling to free herself when Sam turned to her and said, “You! That’s it!” pointing his left index at her. “I’ve had just about enough of your drunkass assaulting fine gentlemen. You’re fired. Get out right now! And be grateful we’re not reporting you to the police.”

Suddenly everything went quiet in her head. She smiled, nothing behind her gaze. Grinning ear to ear like a maniac, she said, “I’m fired? Aww what’s gonna happen to you now Sam?”. She cooed, ''Whose tits and ass are you gonna grab from now on? Stella? I wonder if she’ll compare to me though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam almost hissed at her.

“Ohhh right! Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said while still tussling with whatever little strength she had left to loosen herself from the guard’s excruciating grip. “You don’t know anything about how you sexually harassed me day after day, how your disgusting, slimy little hands grabbed my body against my will at every chance that you got. You knew how much I need the money from this job and you used that against me to keep me silent, threatening to fire me every time I made even a sound. But guess what fucker? I’m fired now! And I’m gonna tell everyone about HOW YOU TRIED TO -”

“Take her to the staff room!” Sam cut her off, “NOW!” And, as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, the guard put his palm over her mouth and started dragging her back. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams and she glanced at the man, now with swollen lips, looking at her with eyes filled with, what looked like, concern.

As she was getting dragged, she finally managed to sink her teeth into the guard’s palm resulting in him withdrawing his hand just enough to give her a small window of time to scream at Sam: “YOU MOTHERFUCKER I’LL BE BACK AND I’LL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR SCALP FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’LL -” Before she could finish, her voice got cut off again and she faded into the dimly lit passageway at the back of the floor.

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

The cherry of her fifth cigarette shone brightly in the shivering cold as the smoke drifted up in the air and sluggishly faded away. Mouth agape, her eyes meticulously followed the faint trails left after their disappearance. She wondered where they went, where she’ll go. If it wasn’t this late, and the water wasn’t so cold, maybe she could have gone for a swim in the ocean. If the water wasn’t so cold maybe she would have let it swallow her even. She was calculating the probable temperature of the hypothetical water she’d marry someday when the sound of slow approaching footsteps entered her field of perception. She would have preferred to ignore it but the, somehow already familiar, voice spoke up, “Hey erm...” and left her no choice but to look. And there he was, the foreign man with the swollen lip, looking culpable. There were distinct imprints of guilt in his voice as he continued, “I saw you across the parking lot…um I was actually just leaving with my friends,” he pointed at a black Mercedes parked at the far end of the lot. “They’re waiting in the car anyway so I decided -”

“So you decided now that she’s fired from being a stripper, she's probably a hooker! Lemme go ask the price she’s selling at,” her gestures and voice was comical, “you know, dude if you’ve got a kink of getting beaten up non-consensually then you’re really good at getting it cause I might just be up for round two.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds with a perplexed face, as if trying to process her stream of logic. When he started speaking, he sounded genuinely hurt, “No! Jesus Christ I came to apologize. Can you just not be defensive for one second? I’m not a monster ya know!”

His sincerity caught her off guard. She had about five thousand ways of dealing with assholes prepared and ready to go but an actually decent person? Now that was rocky territory for her.

“Well, uh, that’s a first. Go ahead I guess?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I apologize for saying what I said back in the club. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand my films just because of your choice of profession. It was really shitty of me to say that, and nothing can justify it either. And I feel like I caused you to be fired, that’s also weighing heavily on my soul and I don't know how to make it up to you. Just, I hope that you can forgive me and, again, I apologize, earnestly. Please tell me how I can make it up to you,” he said and looked at her with a rueful expression.

She was at a loss of words. It had been years since anyone apologized to her, let alone that sincerely. After a considerable amount of silence, she gathered her fragmented thoughts and spoke up, “Whoa, whoa man, chill. You didn’t murder my family or anything so calm down,” she held up her open palms, the cigarette almost at it’s end. “Apology accepted, okay? And don’t feel bad, I would have been fired sooner or later given my questionable behavior ever since I joined, so it’s not on your conscience. And I’m sorry too,” her index and middle finger holding the cigarette gestured at his lips, “for, um, punching you so let’s call it an even.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah okay,” sounding clearly more relaxed than before.

“You know it’s a miracle how long it took for me to get fired,” she mused, “oh no it wasn’t a miracle it was sexual harassment, ah I see now. Wonder what Sam saw in me though that was worth not firing me for this long even though I pulled so much shit,” she took a long drag of her weary cigarette. “Maybe I've got a talent for getting harassed or something...who knows?”

His face tensed up again as he said, “That’s...not right,” eyes pooling with the same worried look as before.

“I was joking, chill. Humor is an excellent way to deal with most everything really, especially trauma.”

“I am sorry for what you had to go through, it’s gut-wrenching. Can’t you lodge a complaint to the police?”

“Going to the pigs? As a sex worker? Who just got fired for being drunk and punching a man in front of many eye witnesses? Now that was humor, you’re quite good at it actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Besides, that’s like one of the first things you gotta learn to put up with if you’re working in this business. As unfair and grim as it is, men, no actually, people don’t see sex workers as human beings and I’m just too obstinate to accept that simple fact, or maybe too much of a pussy, depending on where one’s priorities lie.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.”

 It was just setting in for her how beautiful he actually was. His crestfallen face was graced by two stunning green eyes, lush unruly curls sticking to his forehead, sharp jawline kissed with a  scruffy goatee and the swollen lip throwing off the symmetry just right to make him look captivating, to say the least. In the chilly December ambience his face was a soothing sight to her eyes, his sweet voice kind to her drudging ears, his presence warm to her existence. And she wanted to hold onto the warmth, just for a bit longer.

   “You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” she said as the cigarette fell on the ground then died out under the crushing embrace of her cruel heels.                         

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

“Well I'm Ro -” he said leaning against the passenger seat window, sitting half facing her.

“If you’re trying to say your name then don’t,” she cut him off quickly without averting her gaze from the road.

“Why?” he asked, staring at her intently yet without any emotion in particular.

“‘Cause it doesn’t matter. It’s better if we don’t know each other’s name. Names individualize people and that’s not necessary for tonight,” she answered nonchalantly as the neon lights of a passing by road sign illuminated her face and then faded into the past just as nonchalantly. 

“Okay.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her, it wasn’t tainted. There was this unusual tranquility in the atmosphere of the car, this obscure but consistent serene rhythm. She felt a bizarre comfort in his presence and she could drive like this forever, on a never-ending road spiraling towards heaven or winding down pandemonium or just dissolving into the ether, with him sitting lazily on the side.

    “Do you ever feel like that?” he spoke up absentmindedly, breaking into her almost fever dream.

“Huh?”

“The song, I feel like that often.”

She didn’t realize the radio was on, playing at quite a significant volume. She wondered if he had turned it on at some point and how long she was driving for without being present mentally.

This place will be the end of me. Take me out, LA. Take me out of LA, the voice from the radio filled the car to the brim.

 “I don’t feel like that, I know that. I know I'll die here, kinda intrinsically...do you hate this place?”

“No, not hate. I just feel like I don't fit in here. It’s the way of life, it’s quite significantly different to what I was used to. The people and the city, it all feels hollow sometimes and every now and then i catch myself yearning for what I left behind me.”

“I see. Beautiful people and their beautiful problems.”

    Silence fell in the car again. Except for the voice through the radio, Well this place is never what it seems.

 “You don’t have to make small talk, you know. I'm fine with silence,” she said, finally looking at him for a brief second.

“Oh I know,” he was looking right into her eyes, unruffled. “I wasn’t making small talk, I just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”

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

The bleak fluorescent tube above buzzed in solidarity as the fatigued clock on the chipped convenience store wall dragged its hands and finally managed to tick at 2 am. The attendant was leaning on the counter, trying not to fall asleep when her voice echoed in the store: “$20 on pump 2.”

“I’ll pay”, he cut in, reaching for his wallet. “Okayyy...” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his benevolence and looked around the store which was significantly emptier that other nights. She closed her eyes for a second and the memories flashed behind her lids. She used to come here frequently, around this time, with someone when everything in her world was right, just right enough for her to not to seek out falling stars every night and wish for death over and over again. When she opened her eyes a shiny pack of Parliaments caught her gaze and she quickly gestured behind the counter, “Since you’re paying, can I get a pack of those also?”

“Sure”

“I remember surviving on those alone while writing my thesis papers,” she said wistfully, “good times.”

“You went to college?”

“University actually, but yeah.”

“Good lord.”

“But I had to drop out so I couldn’t complete my Master’s in Biochemistry.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

“I flunked out my first year of college so you did way more than I did in that regard.”

“Welp, look where that got me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Anything else?” the attendant interjected, visibly tired and clearly annoyed at their conversation.

She swiftly grabbed a lighter, “Can I get this too?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“That’ll be all,” she tossed the lighter towards the attendant and continued, “You’re clearly doing way better than me in life.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I meant that seriously. I’m the one who fucked up my life and that’s a fact. Say, how did you know what you wanted to do?”

“That’ll be $30”, the attendant interjected again.

“I don’t know. I started acting as a kid and it just seemed right. It’s all I've known really and I can't see myself as anything else,” he said as he passed the money to the attendant.

“I envy that.”

“I do sometimes ponder what I would have been if not an actor.”

“Wondering too much isn’t good,” she grabbed the goods and shoved them in her coat pocket, “It might make someone into me.”

She stopped right before the glass door, pulled the lighter out and flicked it on, “I’ll use it later,” she leaned in close to him with a frivolous smirk and whispered, “to burn this city down.”

He chuckled at her sudden gaiety, “I’d gladly assist.”

Pushing the door open, she continued as he followed behind her, “Did you see the way that dude rolled his eyes to you? He definitely thought you were with a blabbering hooker and to be honest, my make up probably didn’t help either. Oh well it's not like -” her voice slowly evaporated into the gloomy gas-station lights. 

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

“So beautiful,” he said with awe looking over the vast and apparently endless ocean which the full, eternal moon bathed with its silver glory.

She clutched at her coat sleeves as the chilly wind sent shivers down her body and said, “I know right? I’ve always found the sea to be peaceful during this time of the night.”

“It’s lovely, I’ve never been to this beach before.”

“It’s my favorite spot actually, I used to come here pretty often,” melancholia dripping from her voice. She paused for a little while as if going over a mental checklist and said, “let’s go sit down there,” and pointed towards a vague place in the distance. 

They walked down the beach for a bit side by side, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other’s, making them want to hold hands, feel the warmth of another being. But the hesitance of the yet to be known, the uncertainty of a nameless stranger clouded their minds and prevented them from reaching out.

She stopped, sat down and gestured to him to do the same by tapping the cold sand beside her. He sat a bit too far for her liking so she huddled up closer to him saying, “You blaze right?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she said, taking out a small bag from an inside pocket of her coat, “keep an eye out for me while I roll it.”

They sat in silence as she rolled a joint meticulously. The waves kept crashing on the shore as if fulfilling some ancient duty. Wind rustled through the empty beach. Sand glimmered sporadically under the warm light of the moon, creating a transcendental atmosphere.

He sighed and thought out loud, interrupting the intoxicating stillness of the night, “Where do we go from here?”

“Other than plotting the murder of Sam, I don’t know about me,” she replied without looking up from the task at hand, “Don’t really wanna think about it tonight. That’s why I took you along with me. I wanted someone to keep me distracted from my thoughts and I had no one to go to...then you came to apologize, like my knight in shining armor.”

He smiled wryly and said, “I see.”

“What about you? What are you gonna do about your not fitting in or what was it?”

“I don’t know either. I just miss my people. I’m not meant for here, I think.”

“So can’t you go back there? To your home I assume?”

“I can...”

“Then go. Why the fuck would you stick around if you had the option to go back?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh! I wish I had a home to go back to too.”

She could see him from the corner of her eyes, clenching his knees tight with his fingers at her words, bringing them closer to his chest. She looked up to see him staring at her with his big, beautiful, hurt-puppy eyes.

“Did that make you sad or something?” she asked, almost amused. 

“Yeah...yeah it did.”

His apparent empathy for a literal stranger who also punched him not so long ago struck her as odd and oddly enticing. He looked unreal to her in the strange moonlight, as if a remote but vivid memory. She felt as though if she reached out and touched him, he’d turn to dust and drift off with the wind. Those intense eyes and his fey beauty were getting too much for her to bear so she averted her gaze towards the ocean and said, “There’s no use for your or anyone’s sadness. You see, sadness changes nothing. Unless you can start a capital R revolution tomorrow, everything will be the same. It’ll be the same day with slight variations over and over again, things will repeat and go on and on and on until one day humanity just goes poof somehow and then the universe will go on as if we never even happened. There’s no significance of our lives, there’s no point in feeling sad about anything in this set up. One must always imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“That’s quite pessimistic, isn’t it?”

“Kinda absurdist actually, but It’s hard not to be pessimistic or defensive, when you have to lead a life like mine.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, “Glamour Boy,’” she said, licking the rolling paper.

He put his hand over his chest and feigned being hurt which made her laugh; a clear, hearty laughter. The beach echoed with a faint sound of the laughter of two stray souls as he joined in.

The joint hanged from her lips, sensual and reckless like an erotic magazine model, burning bright as she took a long drawn-out drag.

“Say, do you think the water is cold?” she said, passing the joint to him.

He took in a drag, inhaling some of her used up smoke with it too, tasting her cheap but obscenely sweet fruity lip gloss at the filter tip, “Yeah...very much so”.

She huddled up even closer to feel the heat of his body as he passed the joint back to her. Taking in another drag, she leisurely put her head on his shoulder.

The sedating smoke sank into their lungs as the sand anchored them from floating off in the elating static of the enveloping darkness.

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

“Is this it?” she said, pulling up to a posh apartment complex, something she wouldn’t be able to afford even after paying off her debts. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied absently and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

She was looking ahead at the road, expecting him to get out of the car, but he sat in silence. She looked at him and saw him laid back on the seat as if being consumed by it, tracing the edge of the left air vent softly with his fingers. He sighed and said, still looking at his busy fingers: “I feel strange and fucking awful.”

“It happens sometimes after coming down a high.”

“It’ll be a pain in the arse going to bed feeling like this.”

“I know,” her eyes travelled down the flow of his posture, giving birth to an urge of some aboriginal origin in her loins, “but you don’t have to.” 

He turned his head towards her slowly, lethargy clear in his slow breathing pattern, “What do you mean?”

“Push your seat back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He furrowed his brows, alarmed by her sudden gratuitous command. He looked at her; motionless as if not even breathing awaiting his compliance and her eyes glinted with expectancy. He pushed his seat back, as far as it could go then parted his lips to say something but before the words could get out, she virtually jumped on top then sat astride him.

 A deathly stillness engrossed the car as her previous bellicose energy returned to the atmosphere, only this time rather ardent in nature. His heart, instantaneously racing, almost audible to her. 

“You know,” she said taking off her top, “dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that’s an important part of your brain’s reward system, and it can elevate your mood and make you feel really good.”

Eyes wide with surprise, he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingertips snaked up and down his smooth chest as if caressing a sumptuous painting one is not allowed to touch. She felt his taut muscle tighten at her touch, veins kindled with a hot rush pulsing under. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she felt the heat of his body as she pressed her chest against his. His breathing picked up it’s pace even more at the contact with her flushed skin.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she spoke up letting her lips skim over his bare shoulder.

“Terribly,” his voice breathy as he placed his hands on her hips hesitantly, not possessively, but affectionately.

“I do too.”

“What do we do about it?”

“Maybe we don’t do anything.”

“Maybe.” he said resting his right cheek against her head, “or maybe we keep each other company.”

“But for how long?”

“However long we need to.”

A mirthless laugh rippled from her lips then through his skin. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, curious green mixed with an unfamiliar kind of sorrow, a sorrow too costly for her. “Lust and attraction shut off the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which includes rational behavior,” she said, knocking softly on his temple.

“Makes sense.”

Cupping his face, she stroked his swollen lips with her rough thumbs, making him wince in response. The purple bruise steadily forming on the side of his mouth marred his flawless complexion yet his allure only enhanced. Her thumb rubbed on the bruise with reckless abandon, his flinches testifying to that. Withdrawing her hands from his face, she left a light peck on the bruise and said, “Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me, come on, I'm giving you a chance to get back at me for earlier.”

“No!”

“Prude!”

“Hey! I just don’t want to hurt you, especially not as revenge or what not,” he sounded genuinely offended.

She leaned in, “But I want to get hurt, silly,” her lips ghosting over his as she whispered, “Endorphins are our body’s natural pain reducer and it so happens to increase when we engage in reward-producing activities, such as eating, working out, or having sex.” She pulled away and continued, “So hit me. Hard.” His adam’s apple bobbed up then down as he searched at her face, as if trying to find some sort of sign. His fingers dug in her hips, indicating the upcoming crude impact. Her palms laid flat against his chest as his left hand rose then crashed against her face. Her fingers curled in response as she gasped weakly, eyes shut closed but the tensity clear in the lines on her eyelids and forehead. 

“Ah... that was good,” she said as if talking to herself, caressing her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring with uncertain eyes, the doubt readable in the way he bit his lips. 

“Just like that, once more,” her firm voice ringed in the vehicle. His hand cruelly collided once again with her face, leaving her face warm and red. 

“Good boy,” she cooed as the sharp sting eddied on her cheek and then through her whole body, easing her off some unknown yet intrinsic discomfort. Her chest pounded in sync to his as she spoke up, “Do it for me once again, won’t you?”

Pressing his teeth even deeper into his lips, he struck her once again, with as much strength as he had. A white light flashed before her eyes, her ears ringed as she sat in silence for a bit. When her vision became clear, she held his face between her palms. Leaning closer, she rested her temple against his and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Sweat dripped down as her nose grazed up the side of his neck, she could feel him growing hard through his pants. She buried her face in his curls and breathed in. He smelt sugary, sweet to the extent of almost making her nauseous. She whispered against his ear, “You’ve got a boner...it turned you on this much to hurt me?”

“It’s, um, n-not really that part it’s the -” he stammered in embarrassment.

 “Ugh men,” she cut him off and rolled her eyes playfully. “But since we’ve got a situation at hand, and you’ve been so good to me, I think you deserve some relief for yourself,” she said, tugging at his waistband. To which he responded eagerly, elevating his hips just enough so she could slip his pants off as much as possible. His head sank back into the headrest as her hands wrapped around his cock. Her hand gilded up and down his length as her other hand ran through his hair, pulling lightly. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he quivered and moaned softly as she lovingly yet mercilessly worked on him. His breath hitched sharply as she stroked the tip of his cock with her thumb, making him groan and twitch under her touch. She was about to pick up the pace when he grabbed her wrist abruptly. “Wait!” he rasped, “I wanna...feel you.”

He panted, trying to catch his breath and said, “Let’s take this inside, there might be people around.”

“Why? Are you afraid of getting photographed with a hooker by the paparazzi, Mr. Actor?"

“No”, he answered, the same hurt as earlier could be heard in his voice, the type of hurt when one is misunderstood by someone they love, “I just - I just want it to be nice.”

“Let’s not make it too nice lest you fall in love with me,” she said sternly. “Besides, you should be more concerned about getting STDs. There should be some condoms in the glove box and also tissues for later.”

He brought his face closer to hers, looked at her lips and said, “You’ve got such a mean mouth, you know that?”

“And you like it?”

“Perhaps”, he replied then kissed her, deeply. Holding her face in his head, he bit her lips which made her moan in his mouth. After running out of breath she pulled away, still tasting his saliva on her tongue as he reached behind her and rifled through the glove compartment. Having found what he wanted, he turned on the radio then returned his focus to her; she was hiking up her dress and awkwardly slipping off her panties in the short space.

Heavy bass filled the car, I wanna be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust, as the sky started to light up with shades of azure and tangerine. Her tongue blended with his as she took his cock in her. Their bodies pressed and flushed against each other as a steady rhythm flowed through them. Her nails scratched his nape, as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. Her head shot back as he thrust up into her, frantic and keen. His groans muffled in her chest, her moans melting into his hair as their hips clashed against one another.

Maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.

------------   

The sparkling rays of the breaking dawn illuminated his face as he cleaned himself off and got dressed. She marveled from the driver’s seat at the magnificence of the sight of him in afterglow. There was something in him, something innate, that made him stand out from anyone she ever came across. He was made for the screen, he was made to shine, and she wondered whether or not he’ll remember her afterwards. It was for the better if he didn’t, she thought to herself, as this was probably one of the lowest points in his life, while that night was most definitely one of the highlights of hers. The sheer dichotomy was glaring at her soul when he spoke up, bringing her attention back to the present, “I was wondering if you’d like to -”

“Look if you want my name or number, then that’s just not gonna happen,” she said with a sigh, “It’s the oxytocin flooding your brain. Increased levels of oxytocin facilitate attachment and bonding and shit so, like, don’t be fooled.”

“But it’s not that, I feel a connection between us...something I haven’t felt with anyone here before.”

He averted his eyes from her and looked out the window. His hand lingered on the door handle for a second before he stepped out of the car. Turning his back towards the car, he walked into the apartment complex, without saying anything further. Her foot pressed on the accelerator, as the car drove past the buildings. A Parliament washed out the leftover taste of him in her mouth as she rolled down the window to let the nauseously sweet scent dissipate into the cold morning air. 

“It is that. Believe me, I know. There is nothing between us. Whatever connection you feel is your hormones doing bullshit things.”

“You’re just evading me”

“I’m not. I do actually know. Okay, for instance you feel really tired and sleepy right now, right?”

“Yeah”

“That’s the parasympathetic nervous system down-regulating your body and a shit load of vasopressin coursing through you”

“But that could also be because we stayed up all night and got high and just had sex”

“Why don’t you understand? It’s all chemicals, everything! There is nothing called love and whatever the fuck people feel is just their chemicals doing somersaults. There is nothing between us, we don’t know each other. There can be nothing either, look at the circumstances. People like you shouldn’t have to do anything with people like me unless it requires a monetary transaction.”

“But i can help, with whatever you’re dealing with”, he said reaching to place his hand over hers, “we can help each other”

“and what exactly do you think i’m dealing with?, she asked, withdrawing her hand, eyes narrowed at him.

“I don’t know yet”

��Exactly. You don’t know anything. I’m not some sad little girl who went to college then got depressed but in a sexy way so maybe she did drugs or whatever and dropped out and now strips for fucking aesthetic reasons probably. No honey, I’m involved with shit that can drag you down faster than a meth withdrawal and my life is a living testimony of that, take my word for it. So, go get some rest. Sleep out your saviour complex and live out your promising life when you wake up.”

[itsthemysterykids]

Beetle Juice au?

Invisible

On a rainy day, Norman and his family mourn the passing of his mother

As the funeral proceeds, Norman, reflects on the death of his mother and his own inability to be noticed by his dad, Perry

Dipper: *Once Norman finishes his song* Holy crap. A ballad already? And such a bold departure from the original source material!

The Whole ‘Being Dead’ Thing

Dipper, a millennia-old demon named continues to mock the idea of living life to the fullest, as it will all be worthless once death comes

And, using his ghost, he breaks the fourth wall, explaining that, as a demon, he is invisible to all living beings unless he gets a living person to say his name three times, and reveals that he has come up with a plan to accomplish this.

He introduces Lili and Raz Aquato-Zanotto, a normal married couple who want to start a family

Ready, Set, Not Yet

But, like most couples, they’re not emotionally ready and procrastinate on that plan by coming up with a bunch of hobbies

As they reason to themselves why they’re not ready to start a family just yet, they fall through unstable floorboards and die

Dipper: … See? I wasn’t kidding! It’s a show about death!

Immediately after, The Handbook for the Recently Deceased falls into Dipper’s hands… Only for him to burn it, as all is a part of his plan

The Whole ‘Being Dead’ Thing Part 2

When Lili and Raz awaken from their fall and realize that they are dead, Dipper reveals himself to the couple and offers to help them adjust to the Afterlife

He reveals to the couple that a new family, the Babcocks, have bought their house and that in order to remain alone, they will have to scare them away, so Lili and Raz accept his help

While moving in, Perry reveals to Norman that he wants to start a gated community, using the house as a flagship model home, and is holding a dinner party with some business friends.

Dead Mom

Norman resents this, trying to get it through Perry’s head that it’s been a week since his mother’s funeral and he doesn’t seem to care expresses her desire for her mother to return, mentioning the fact that nobody seems to care that she is gone.

Praying for her to send a sign that she is still there, Norman vows to make Perry acknowledge the fact that tragedy struck their family

Meanwhile the attic, Dipper is trying to teach the Aquato-Zanottos how to be scary.

Fright of Their Lives

Despite his best attempts, they prove to be not scary at all…

Seriously, they suck

Dipper: Why God/Satan did you send these bed-wetters?! Even like a tax attorney would have been better! Somebody with gravitas, somebody to fear who-

Raz: Excuse me, Dipper! We can kind of hear you!

Dipper: Yeah? Well, that was a soliloquy so you're the one who's being rude.

Dipper becomes frustrated with the couple and abandons them, so they vow to scare the Babcock family away themselves ("Ready Set" (reprise)).

No Reason

Meanwhile, Victoria, a woman who Perry hired to be Norman’s life coach (and his secret lover), tells Norman how everything happens for a reason

But this is not what Norman needs right now and storms off after their session

While looking around the house, Norman meets the couple as they are roaming the house trying to scare the family.

Norman wants to leave the house just as much as Lili and Raz want his family out, so he tries to convince his dad that the house is haunted, only to find out that he and Victoria are engaged

Angry at the news, Norman heads to the roof where Dipper laments that he will never be seen

Invisible Reprise

While on the roof, Dipper hears Norman reciting what appears to be lines from a s*icide note.

Norman: “I’m alone. Forsaken. Invisible.

Dipper: That makes two of us.

Norman: Who the hell are you?

Dipper: … Can you… See me?

Norman: Yeah?…

Dipper: You can see me! I’m gonna have a new best FRIEEEEEEND!

Say My Name

He becomes ecstatic when he realizes Norman can see him and tries to convince him not to kill himself, with the intention of getting him to free him from his curse

However, Norman just teases Dipper, acting as if he might say his name, but then doesn’t just so he can see Dipper be all moody and pout

And honestly, he doesn’t seem like the ‘scaring’ type

Lili and Raz come to check on Norman, only to be possessed by Dipper into saying positive things about him to further convince Norman

Upon learning about possession and that any ghost can do it, regardless of skill, Norman decides not to work with Dipper and instead work with the couple to ruin Perry’s party

Dipper: Woah, woah, woah woah woah! Hold up, hold up, guy, I'm your pal! They're sweet, but I'm a demon straight from Hell! I know, I went a little hard on my sell! But we're BF-F-F-F's forever- *Norman pushes him off the roof*

Lili/Raz: Norman!

Norman: What? He was already dead.

Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)

At the dinner party, things go smooth at first…

Until Lili and Raz possess Perry, Victoria, and their guests

Barbara and Adam possess Charles, Delia and their guests

However, instead of being scared, the investors see the ghosts as a selling point; making them more interested in Charles' project

Feeling desperate, Norman resorts to summoning Dipper

Now visible to the living and able to affect the world around him, he forces Lili and Ra to the attic before throwing Perry, Victoria, and the investors out of the house, much to Norman’s joy.

Act 2

Girl Scout

A Boy Scout named Neil explains to the audience how he has a heart condition where anything shocking could stop his heart

But, despite all of that, he is nevertheless excited to be a Boy Scout.

He rings the doorbell of the Babcock's house and is greeted by Norman, who invites him inside

However, Dipper appears and frightens the poor boy into leaving

That Beautiful Sound

He even summons more versions of himself to help Norman scare every visitor that comes to the house

As the two hang out together more, they start to grow more close (Relax, Dipper’s like Princess Bubblegum, biologically millions of year old, but physically 18, and Norman’s 18)

Dipper also tells Norman that since he lives and works among the dead now, he should also follow their rules, and gives him a copy of the Handbook for the Recently Deceased.

But because he is not dead, Norman cannot open it. Despite this, he realizes it could help him reunite with her mother, and runs to the attic for Lili and Raz’s help

Feeling alone and betrayed again, Dipper talks with his clones about how he wants to leave the house to finally connect with people now that he can be seen

To achieve this, he decides to trick Norman into marrying him, which will allow him to roam free in the living world

In the attic, Lili and Raz help Norman open the Handbook, when they realize they should have gone straight to the Netherworld instead of remaining in their house.

Lili opens the door to the Netherworld, but Lili shuts it and the Handbook, afraid of leaving the house.

This angers Norman as he hoped to use the book to summon his dead mother and leaves disappointed

Raz 2.0

Raz realizes that all of their fear has held him and Lili back, so they decide to become bolder, better, more impulsive people

Victoria, Perry re-enter the house to save Norman with Courtney, Perry’s sister who, thanks to her guru, found a box that can supposedly trap souls.

Dipper reluctantly tricks Norman by telling him that reading a passage from the book will resurrect his mother,

But instead, he unknowingly begins to exorcise Raz and is forced to agree to marry Dipper to stop it

Dipper quickly stops the exorcism and opens a door to the Netherworld to send Lili and Raz away for good, but Norman jumps through the door, with Courtney following after her little brother

Enraged that his plan has failed and he won’t get to be with Norman, Dipper decides to kill everyone instead

What We Know Now

Norman and Courtney enter the Netherworld and are greeted by Coraline and Wybie, who along with other Netherworld residents, urge them to return to the living world

Coraline: Kid, if we knew then what we know now…

Wybie: We wouldn’t have had our little “accident”.

They then meet Mabel, director of Netherworld Customs and Processing, who soon finds out they are still alive

Home

Norman runs from Mabel and frantically searches for his mother in the Netherworld, but is unable to find her

Courtney finds Norman in distress and comforts her, explaining how she misses their mother too, but was trying to stay strong for him

With that, the siblings return to the house, where Dipper is preparing to kill everyone

Creepy Dead Guy

Norman plans to trick him by agreeing to marry him as Courtney, Perry, Victoria, Lili; and Raz, and the Maitlands get the demon ready

Everyone: Here comes the groom, here comes the groom! Witness it in this very room! Crazy how some cultures think this thing ain’t alright.

The wedding brings Dipper to life, but before Norman can stab him, Dipper recites some of the most heartwarming vows, showing Norman that he actually cares for him

This only makes it harder for Norman to stab him and kill him again, which will make him "Recently Deceased".

Suddenly, Mabel appears and reveals herself as Dipper’s sister, and tries to take Norman back with her for “Aliving” her brother

Then Dipper explaines to Mabel that he’s enjoyed his five minutes of living and being married, moving Mabel to happy tears and she decides not to split them up

Jump in the Line (Dead Mom Reprise)

Later, with help from his new husband, (‘Boyfriend’ around Parry) Norman accepts that although his mother is gone, there is still so much left to enjoy in life

[clouds-of-wings]

Also, I just recently learned, because I listened to two people talking about this, why people who are used to a steady employment situation are so desperate to keep it: it’s not just because you get “emotionally” used to having the status benefits that a steady income provides, instead your entire life gets structured materially around the expectation that you’ll continue to earn money. You got high rent or mortgage payments, a car that need insurance and gas, maybe children, your electronics are more energy intense - you may have repurposed the room where you’d hang your clothes to dry because you have a dryer now. If you lose your income, you have to spend EXTRA money on things like moving somewhere else, getting lower cost stuff, perhaps renting storage space for your things. Plus the poverty tax of course. And perhaps, if I want to be mean, you also have to invest additional energy into getting new friends. It conserves money and energy to stay in the situation your lifestyle is adapted to, even if you could theoretically totally live on your savings for a while if you scaled back. You can stop eating in restaurants and going on vacation to faraway places for a while, no problem, but replacing your possessions and your house? That’s more difficult.

Sometimes I think I just need someone who will calmly explain really basic stuff about how other people live to me. I seem to default to explanations that somehow cast me in a bad light.

[chloroformthelittleb4stard]

Family Relations - Part 5

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Crying, death of general people not any specific character

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

It was an excruciatingly long drive. Two hours in a car doesn't seem like a lot but in a car full of people, one of which was an angsty were-wolf and another of which was a hyperactive ball of anxiety, it was some weird version of hell. Allison had tried to fall back asleep about ten minutes after we left her dorm but soon realized that it was an effort in vain. Stiles wouldn't stop moving. His legs were shaking so much that it was jiggling his chair and the old car made sounds of protest whenever he shifted too much. Scott was trying desperately hard to stay awake, he wanted to be there to protect you all, but he was exhausted and he kept falling asleep while leaning against the car door.

Overall, it was an emotionally taxing trip. Maybe it was the fact that you were going to a place you'd never even heard of before, or that you were still processing the death of several of your neighbors, or maybe it was because you had less than 3 hours of sleep. For whatever reason, you were exhausted when Stiles stopped the car and pulled up in front of a light blue house, parking in the driveway and not bothering to open the garage.

"Where are we?" Scott had woken up from his nap and he still seemed incredibly disoriented.

"My house, my dad should be on a shift right now so I'll explain this to him when he gets back." The exaggeration he put on the word 'this' made you snort almost inaudibly, but Stiles heard it and gave you a bright smile in response, not seeming tired in the slightest.

"Stiles can you drop me and Allison at my house, there's not enough room for all four of us on your couch." Scott's suggestion made you flush, apparently you were staying with Stiles, the man you had a crush on and were having a harder and harder time managing to hide your romantic emotions for. This was going to be fantastic.

Stiles shot you a worried look, presumably at leaving you home alone, and you reassured him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be ok Stiles, the sooner you get them to Scott's the sooner they can catch up on the sleep we stole from them." He grumbled something with the line 'life or death' before giving you a last stressed expression, which you knew only one way of calming.

Taking a deep breath you let a small swirl of air converge in the palm of your hand, trying to push away the sleepiness you mustered a smirk, putting up a confident facade to try and settle his mind down.

He huffed at your display of magic before rolling his eyes and giving you a hug, one in which he slipped you the house keys as he did so, a move you though was impressively smooth for a man as clumsy as Stiles. With a wink he was off, settling back into the driver's seat to cart his friends back to their destination of choice while you stood on his porch holding one strap of your backpack so it wasn't completely on the ground.

With a sigh you found the house key that Stiles slipped in your back pocket and unlocked his front door, the dark hallway and staircase greeting you. Toeing off your shoes you went to explore the house more, padding through the kitchen and the dinning room before settling on the living room couch. It was a comfortable couch, soft and not too small. It wasn't an upgrade from your dorm room bed, but it wasn't a downgrade either.

Before you could turn the lights on and settle in to wait for Stiles, he walked through the front door and locked it behind him. Immediately he went to the kitchen, starving after having not eaten almost anything since dinner time the day before. The sun was starting to rise, peeking out over the clouds and slowly bathing the rooms in an orange glow.

After grabbing a snack he headed for the living room where he walked in and saw you sitting stiff as a board on his couch. You'd never really been comfortable in other people's homes, especially homes you hadn't quite chosen to go to. It was more of a 'this is the best decision' stay than a 'wow you invited me to your house under no extenuating circumstances' stay.

"You ok?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, having drifted off into space for a moment.

"Yeah, kind of. It's a lot." He gave you a sympathetic look before tentatively moving to sit next to you. Leaning forward he let his elbows support his weight as he rested them on his knees gently.

"This sucks." You laughed out loud, blinking back tears that were coming now that you had more privacy without Allison and Scott around. Without a word Stiles pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back to sooth you as you sniffled lightly into his hoodie. He whispered quiet comforting words to you as you started to calm down, the trauma and seriousness of the situation catching up with you.

"They're dead Stiles. Actually dead. All of them." He grimaced, despite having dealt with lots of death from his years in Beacon Hills it was still a touchy subject, one he had problems addressing head on. He'd never been good at losing people.

"I know..." He took a sigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over the crown of your head before he continued. "We'll get whoever is doing this, I promise you we will." He sounded sure of himself, a confidence that came from experience exuded from him and it settled your nerves slightly more to know that you seemed to have a supernatural problem veteran on your hands.

"You've dealt with stuff like this?" Your voice was scratchy from crying and Stiles, unasked, got up and brought you back a glass of water before answering.

"Yeah, way too much actually. My years in high school seem to have a lot more death than other peoples'." He chuckled but there was no humor in it, just a way to avoid thinking about his pain.

"I'm sorry." Your voice was small and you felt eternally bad about being upset about an event that clearly Stiles had experienced multiple times over. You thought about how lucky you were to have a normal high school, one without so much death. In retrospect you knew you'd not have been strong enough to deal with the emotional weight of mass murder at that age.

There was simultaneous staring off into space for a few moments before you both seemed to return to reality and all of its problems.

"You should get some sleep ok? The pack will be here in a few hours and we need all the rest we can get. I'll be in my room so you can get me if you need something. Don't feel bad about waking me up." With that he left, thumping up the stairs to where you assumed his bedroom was. There wasn't much to do that would put off sleeping and the nightmares that you were sure were inevitable. You pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and rested your head on one of their pillows, it was nice, worn and comfortable. You drifted off to sleep in no time.

[novantinuum]

Shattering Atlas (a corrupted!Steven one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depression and body horror)

Words: 4.2K~

Summary: A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

Folks, here it is! I’m finally finished. AO3 link to be posted in the reblogs.

Disclaimer: This is absolutely far darker and more drastic than I believe canon would EVER tread if this theory had the faintest chance of being anywhere close to the truth, but sometimes you just feel like being super angsty for angst's sake, y'feel? It was an interesting writing experiment nonetheless. Not gonna lie, this is kinda a vent piece. Please do heed those tags. This delves into some difficult territory both mentally and otherwise, as it's written entirely from Steven's POV.

_____

Steven knows he’s messed-up.

It’s not something he tries to advertise to all the sweet, innocent people who somehow after all this time still choose to stand by his side, but he can’t lie to himself. Spending a significant chunk of your childhood actively doubting your own personhood shatters you in ways no amount of unconditional love can ever hope to mend. And sure, he’s not his mom. He knows that. Been there, had the mental breakdown, seen it, done it. The proof’s in his gem half. He knows. But as much as everyone in his life coddles him, gently tries to reassure him while he tirelessly works day and night to realign the foundation of an entire ancient civilization...

“You’re almost an adult now, isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t worry about the future, the futures I see for you are as limitless as they are bright.”

“Take a break if you need to, ‘kay? You totally deserve one, little man.”

“Y’know, Schtu-ball, the wonderful thing about adulthood is that you can choose to fly wherever the wind takes you!”

...it’s clear none of that matters anyways. Because it’s not true, not for him. Because beyond his identity as a Crystal Gem, beyond that bottomless desire for belonging he’s been chasing all his life, ever since the fateful moment early in his childhood in which he finally realized— small, pudgy hands clutching at the oversized hand-me-down shirt right over the pink hand-me-down gem in his belly— that he isn’t like anyone else and never will be, the truth is that he genuinely doesn’t know what he wants. Who he is.

Everyone else does.

Connie has plans. Hopes, dreams. A future. She’s already thinking about college, and aims on double majoring in political science and environmental science. (A combination only she’s daring enough to pursue, but if anyone’s got the drive to succeed in that it’s her.) Dad’s still manager for Sadie Killer and the Suspects, and they’re going strong. Amethyst has been playing tour guide to all her fellow Prime sisters lately, galavanting with them all around planet Earth. Garnet is currently on the search for terrified cross-fusion Gems still in hiding across the galaxy. Pearl, Bismuth, and a number of the boardies have spearheaded a campaign to help slowly teach and integrate the humans of the Zoo into modern day society. Lapis and Peridot recently built another barn in the outskirts of Little Homeworld, and are enjoying each other’s company.

But him? When all is said and done, as the restructured Gem society stabilizes and soon no one will need him for anything anymore, when Gems and humans alike stop knocking on his metaphoric door with handfuls of their problems for him to drop everything and solve, he has nothing left. He’s no one. No future, no clue. He’s been drained empty.

He’s just drifting through life with the parking break on, continuously waiting— his nerves jittering at every quiet moment— for the next big crisis to crash into his universe and drop feed him even the tinniest shard of purpose.

After all, what is one to do when they’ve spent their entire life training to save the world, but the world has already been saved?

_____

He can’t recall exactly when his current predicament began anymore.

Time’s been hard to keep track of as of late— the days and weeks blending together in an incomprehensible fashion— and yet simultaneously, he might as well have lived a lifetime in the span of the blink of an eye. That being said, he’s pretty sure his most recent gem troubles didn’t truly kick into gear until after the incident with the, erm... cactus monstrosities.

He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he didn’t. He only wanted to help... to heal. To try and repair but a shred of the damage Homeworld wrought on this innocent world. It worked when Earth was poisoned, so it should work in the Kindergartens too, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

His stomach churns as he catches a glimpse of a silly photo of Peridot and himself hanging on the wall by the stairs. A static monument to his shame. Lapis is (still, days later— or is it weeks?) taking care of her gemstone at this very moment, sure, but remembering what happened before that... holding Peridot’s cracked gem in his quivering hands, biting back cries of hopelessness as he ran to the nearest warp pad, escaping from the malformed, hurting creatures born of his own magic... it‘s the kind of horror that he’s sure will linger in his dreams for a long time yet.

It’s like he’s broken. Like his powers just aren’t coming as naturally to him anymore. It’s not quite like that time with the rejuvenator. There’s no sickly glow flickering in and out of existence. No external force acting upon it. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s not a gem sourced problem, it’s him. He’s just... wrong. He’ll try to use his healing ability and it’ll backfire, he’ll summon his bubbles and shields but they’re noticeably less durable, he’ll birth life from his very soul and it’ll grow bitter and corrupt, every bit a mirror of his present mental state. He’ll jump up high in the sky to burn out years of repressed stress in semi-peace and before he can actually do so gravity will grab ahold of him like he’s a petulant, disobedient child and drag him back to the shore. It makes him want to scream, to grind his fingers into the sand so hard his knuckles go white as he sobs out every last one of his stupid, meaningless frustrations, but instead his house is always swarming with people, and his bedroom has no real door, (and he’s too embarrassed to ask for one), and in sum he can never find enough time alone to freely be his genuine messed-up self. It’s fine, though. He doubts he’s capable of crying at this point anyways.

“Dude, you okay?” Amethyst asks with brows furrowed in concern, snapping him back to reality.

His GameStation controller rests precariously in his loose grasp, entirely forgotten in the previous moment. The game they’re playing is paused. He must have blanked out again, and completely ruined their co-op fight. He lets out a shaky breath as he tightens his fingers around the plastic grips, digging into them as if they’re his sole handle on reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says swiftly, plastering a smile on his face with the ease of someone who’s been growing adept at this endless charade for months and months. “Didn’t sleep too well last night. Muscle cramps from training, y’know?”

He watches her closely, catalogues every minute shift in her features. Her eyes narrow so slightly that anyone else might’ve missed it. But he doesn’t. He’s observant. He’s gotta be. It’s the only way he’s kept going for this long, the only way he can ensure no one else knows. They don’t need any more worry. Regardless, Amethyst’s lack of subtlety betrays her, because it’s clear she’s searching his expression and body language right back. His chest pounds. Hastily, he holds up the controller, feeling his face go pale under her scrutiny.

Geeze, how pathetic.

No matter how hard he tries to mask it, he‘s already falling apart.

“So... we gonna play another round, or?” Right as he says this, his stomach chooses to let out an inopportune gurgle. He bites at the insides of his cheeks, inwardly cursing at the bad timing.

It’s thankfully enough to divert Amethyst’s attention from... other matters, though.

“Yo. Ste-man. Your stomach’s straight up monologuing. Have you even eaten today?”

He dimly considers this as he tries not to focus on how empty and faint his body currently feels, mind turning to fuzz. “Uhh...”

She frowns, and promptly pulls herself to her feet. “Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a no. I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get us some cheese!” she declares bombastically, putting on a mock announcer voice.

He watches her leave his room, prancing downstairs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A faint huff of sheer relief passes through his nostrils. Absentmindedly, his thumbs jiggle the controller’s joystick, unable to strike the earlier image of Amethyst— concern engulfing her usually carefree self— from his mind. He really should be more careful about what he says. How he acts.

He honestly couldn’t live with himself if he slipped up and became yet another emotionally taxing problem for them to deal with. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl... all his family, his friends. They deserve peace. They deserve to be satisfied, they deserve their happily ever after. They certainly don’t deserve him, self-destructing all over the bright and shining future they’d won.

Or nearly shattering them.

Putting them in needless danger, danger that’s all his fault, because he’s broken.

His throat grows tight, airway constricted, images of black beady eyes, razor sharp fangs, and malformed limbs invading his thoughts, clawing away at insecurities long scabbed over until they ooze a bitter red. Peridot’s shrill yelp as she’s overtaken in an instant. That dreadful, immediately recognizable sound, a cracking Gem, seared onto his heart for the rest of time.

He... he can’t deny it anymore. His magic’s gone toxic. He’s toxic, bringing suffering and decay where once he brought healing. All his Gem powers are fading, maybe forever. And with them fading, he’ll soon be of no use to anyone, and when they realize why they faded they won’t want him around anyways, and y’know, it’s probably for the better they’ll have a concrete reason to finally push him away. He’s not stupid. He’s always known what an emotionally taxing strain he’s been on everyone, ever since the day Mom died for him to be born.

Steven grips the controller so hard that his fingers grow numb, mind stewing in the dark fantasies of what he’d like to do with himself when he’s left behind for good.

And then... his heart leaps in his throat as he dimly hears Amethyst begin to whisper to the others (they’re back? They’re back?? When did they return, why didn’t you notice them, how could you just miss—) downstairs.

“Y’guys,” he hears her say frantically, under her breath, “I think we really gotta talk with Steven. Something’s seriously wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“What, you mean to say he’s in danger? Garnet, do you see anything?”

“Hmm. I don’t foresee any external threats to Steven’s safety in the near future, but...”

“Amethyst, he’s clearly still upset about Peridot. And once she reforms in a few days, when she’s ready, he’ll be fine! Trust me.“

“No, trust me, I genuinely think this is more than just Peridot! It’s getting me super worried. He hasn’t been eating like he should, y’guys. I don’t think he’s showered in days. Sometimes it’s like he’s... I dunno, like, he isn’t even fully present. And y’know, thinking about it now? It’s been like this for a while. Since before all the cactus stuff.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not sure how we could—“

“We need to call Greg over,” Garnet interrupts Pearl, a new, thinly veiled panic rising in her voice. “Right now.”

His eyes stretch open wide.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no... Not here, not now, not— please, not now!

His breath hastens, his body outright shaking now. He curls tight into himself, the game controller dropping from his slackened fingers onto the floor as he clutches his knees to his chest. Sweat beads in droplets on his forehead. He outright yanks at his hair.

Amethyst, she can’t just waltz downstairs and!—

I don’t want to—

Peridot, getting cracked, I- it’s all my fault and she didn’t—

I- all of this- I’m so useless, careless, l- I’m losing my mind, what’s even wrong- why are you panicking!- I don’t—

T-they can’t know, they can’t know, they CAN’T—

He can’t fully bite back his cries as his gem flares burning hot, a rush of pure, unadulterated agony spiking through his hard light veins in an indescribably eternal split-second, the very experience of hypocrisy. Every single muscle in his body seizes. His ears ring, filled with a cacophonous clamor of sound that slashes through his mind with the deadly force of a long blade. Crippling. Debilitating. All-consuming. Hell. This is hell. Because then his head is pounding, and his limbs are all weak and shaky, and for a moment he’s bathed in a faint wash of pink, the glow enveloping him like his own corona of sickness as he succumbs to the pain he’s sequestered inside, bitterly festering for all these years.

Hell eventually recedes, both its note and its physical touch, but the dark clouds looming over his mind do not. Slowly, he loosens his grip on his curls, trying desperately to bring balance to his breathing. His ears are still ringing. His head is still cotton. Questions abound. For instance: what on Earth was that?? Stars, is something else wrong with his gem now, too? Thoroughly disorientated, he yanks up the hem of his shirt.

“Steven?!” Pearl calls frantically from downstairs, right as his trembling fingers gently trace the exposed facets of his gem. “Are you okay up there?”

He squints, features compressing in his sheer confusion. Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. No imperfections, no flickering light, nothing. So then what’s—

“Hey, Steven? Yo?? You, uh- maybe wanna come eat downstairs, or?”

A shudder runs clear through his form, starting from his gem and coursing outwards to the furthest extremities. He grits his teeth as he rides through the stabbing discomfort, clutching at his stomach. It’s like he’s about to vomit. Sure, so maybe he was really hungry before, and maybe that has a little to do with what he’s experiencing now, but... this... still doesn’t feel right. Spots swim in his vision as he glances down again.

And that’s when he sees it, slowly creeping across the skin of his bare forearm as clear as day.

It’s a patch of dull, pinkish hide. Not human skin, hide. He runs his index finger along its perimeter, all of reality screeching to a halt as his brain performs somersaults in a desperate last-ditch attempt to contextualize the information his eyes are sending him right now.

“What?” he whispers in disbelief, (even though he has a few terrifying theories), frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“I’m checking on him,” Garnet says, just loud enough that he knows for certain she intends him to hear. Solid footsteps creep across the floorboards, advancing towards the foot of the stairs.

It’s frankly impressive how fast a single stimulus can turn panic to outright paranoia.

He almost trips over himself diving to retrieve his jacket off the floor, forcing his arms through the sleeves faster than any of the Gems could ever summon their weapons. Hide it. Hide it away. They can’t see you, they can’t know you’re corru- NO! Stop.

Bathroom. He needs to get to the bathroom.

His bare feet solidly connect with the floor, toes curling inwards as he shudders again. A pulsing ache settles into the bones of his skull. Then a prickle at his neck. Reflexively, he slaps his hand against the affected locale. There’s another spot steadily growing there.

Alone, NOW.

The whole world’s spinning as he turns on his heels and flies across the length of his bedroom— sprinting past the TV, shoving past Garnet, who’s already halfway up the open stairwell, and leaping clear over the couch from midway down the last set of steps. (Everyone’s shouting in blind panic as he enters their sight. Fear. Needless, unwanted worry. Calling his name, calling for peace, but his ears are still ringing and their voices are overlapping and he can’t distinguish any of it.) When he reaches the bathroom his hand grips the knob so hard that the metal almost crumples under his force, and he swings himself through the doorway, slams it shut, and turns the lock with pink-splotched fingers faster than any one of the Gems can move to stop him.

For a split moment, things are okay. He’s alone. Moreover, he’s safe.

(But are you really?)

His head is pounding again, the pulsing at his temples soon coalescing into a constant inescapable misery. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he lets his forehead lull against the door. Flexes his knuckles, imagines the splotches disappearing from sight as easily as eye bags under makeup. He tries to calm his breathing in the meditative way Garnet once showed him. In for four counts... and out. In... and out. Come on, just ride it out, Universe. You’re a Gem- a diamond, for cripe’s sake! Control it. Conceal. Move on.

“Steven?!” Amethyst calls from outside. “Please talk to us, what’s goin’ on?”

"Whatever it is, you don't have to be alone!" Pearl adds. He doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's crying.

A renewed burst of panic spikes through his veins at this realization.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m fine!” he bites back on impulse.

“No, you’re NOT!” Amethyst hollers, and then... after a thoughtful pause, her tone softening: “I- I know you’re not.”

He stares down at his hands, brows threading together, watching as the patch of hide continues to inch across his skin. The genuine concern interlaced in every syllable of her speech is enough to make his gut churn with guilt.

“Steven, I... stars, I know you probably overheard me talking to everyone jus’ a second ago, and I know I probably betrayed every scrap of trust we ever had ‘coz of that, and I wanna say I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand aside and watch you treat yourself like garbage. Please, the door’s jammed. Let us in. We just wanna help!”

His lip quivers, despite himself. “I don’t need any help!” he insists, stubbornly pushing past the crack in his voice. “I’m just—“

He’s interrupted by a rush of crippling agony radiating upwards from his gem once more, the ache at either side of his head intensifying into three points. Hands rush to the site on automatic. Fingers grasping, searching. Discovering.

There’s something growing at his temples, he realizes with a rush of horror. Something hard, faceted. Disturbingly cold to the touch.

There’s no way to bite back his screams as the growths fully protrude, none at all, even with his mouth clamped shut, and even though he can’t see them he can sense their weight as they wind upwards and back, up and out of his curls, and he’s shaking, oh stars is he shaking, chest heaving up and down so hard he’s not sure he’ll ever be free of these awful tremors ever again, and— A hoarse sob forces its way to the surface as a third growth crowns his forehead. Trembling fingers scrape down the length of the door as he collapses to his knees, nails sharpening into gnarled talons as they sink further and further into the wood, carving through it like butter. He clenches his jaw back together so hard that with any greater pressure he might shatter his own teeth.

Still quite woozy under the threat of hyperventilation, he slowly turns his head. Extricates those dreadful claws from the door. Dares himself to look. Forcing himself back up to his feet, he gazes deep into the depths of the mirror. And as the creature trapped on the other side stares back through sickeningly pink irises— blotches of color steadily creeping up their jawline and across their cheek, inching to meet the base of those glistening crystalline horns— all known reality shatters into smithereens.

Not me, not me, not me, is the mantra he chants to himself like a prayer, stubbornly clinging to any vestige of normalcy as if this is all but a vivid nightmare he can stir awake from.

(As if deep down, a tiny, beaten-down part of himself still wants to believe he deserves a future too.)

But the darkness reflected in that mirror is following his every jerky, erratic movement as all the despair and guilt and self-hatred festering within continues to consume him like a matchstick to fire.

Not real. It’s not real! I don’t need help. I don’t need the Gems, they don’t need to know, I’m fine, I’m FINE, this isn’t corru - NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT! YOU CAN’T—

They’re yelling outside. Arguing, probably. (And true to form, Pearl‘s cries are the shrillest.) But he can’t be certain of anything anymore while smothered under the fog’s thickening surface, with the rest of the world relegated to mere static and stimuli. Not a word, not a clue. No way to know if it’s an argument about him or with him.

And in his mind their distress stands as yet another sign. Just another slice of proof that they truly are at their happiest without him, that his continued existence only serves as a complication. He can’t deny it anymore. He can’t lie, can’t tiptoe around the inevitable truth; like this, he’s nothing but a liability. A ticking time bomb, set to shatter everything and everyone in his path. Shaking like a leaf, he unfurls his fists, watching as the dull pink hide overtakes the last clear patches of flesh upon his misshapen, monstrous fingers.

They’re better off without you.

The passing seconds cease to exist as he convulses again, this time centralized at the base of the spinal column. He doubles over, leans into the pain. Rides it through vertebrae by vertebrae, raking his claws deep into the wood floor as a fifth limb emerges from where the spine left off, steadily lengthening— fortifying itself with jagged crystalline spikes as it grows ever longer. Its weight is entirely foreign, yet it shifts upon his slightest command. Panic overruling all logic once more, he thrashes about, the tail swinging across the bathroom counter like a whip. His toothbrush, comb, and other various toiletries he hasn't made use of in days clatter to the floor, abandoned.

R u n.

The thought rampages through his shattered soul like an avalanche. Yanks him by the horns. Consumes his mind and body like a trance. He has to escape from here, from the house, the Gems, has to run quick, before it’s too late and you can’t do anything more but wordlessly scream.

He doesn’t stop to question this impulse. Doesn’t stop to peer at that poor tortured creature in the mirror again. For a moment his claws struggle to grasp the crumpled door knob, fumbling in failure’s wake.

When he finally forces the door open, the whole world holds its breath.

Pearl’s eyes blow wide upon the no-doubt horrifying sight. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Steven?!”

Even Amethyst reacts in an adverse manner, stepping back towards the support of the wall. “Holy...” she breathes, face paling.

And just knowing he’s out here now, every gnarled, nightmarish feature exposed in front of his family like a raw nerve, makes his blotchy, spot-covered skin crawl.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’m FINE!” he hollers as he sprints to the warp pad, barbed tail whipping wildly behind him. Pearl yelps in alarm as she only barely dodges its mace-like swing. Unable to hold back his sobs anymore, he collapses to his knees on the hard crystal. Coils his tail around himself by sheer instinct. Hides his face away behind arms. Hot tears spill from his eyes, vision blurring and sharpening in rhythm to the unbearable ache pounding in his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers pathetically, voice catching.

He can practically feel the vibrations through the floor as someone approaches. It’s Garnet. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it can only be her. His breath hastens against his better wishes. Can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop... The vision of the temple door begins to pirouette in dizzy circles around him as he arches his back, and with a sharp gasp feels something tear its way through his shirt and jacket right above his spine, all jagged and spiked and— NO! He grinds his jaw together, shrinking further into himself. Not real. It’s not real, not real, not—

“Steven,” she says in a measured tone as he heaves for air. (No, with hesitation. Fear. She’s hesitating because she’s afraid of you, she’s afraid because you’re a monster NO.) “I know you’re hurting, but I need you to take a deep breath with me, and try to calm down. Please, let us help you...”

A heart wrenchingly familiar hand reaches out to him, adorned by a ruby gem and a golden wedding band. His fingers clamp around thick, greasy curls, brushing against the horns protruding from his temples. A keening cry slips out from his mouth against his better wishes. They want to help. They only want to help...

He peeks at her through the crook of his arm, his most likely reddened, blotchy eyes meeting hers. She’s taken off her visor. She’s crying too.

For a glimmer of a second, he considers reaching out. Taking her offered hand with his own clawed one. But then...

Haven’t you been a burden enough already?

His face screws up, and his hands clench into fists.

“NO,” he shouts, slamming them down upon the warp pad. It activates, (blessedly still accessible at this early stage of corruption NO don’t think about it!!), glowing a bright cyan as he envisions where he wants to go: no particular destination in his mind but away, away, away.

After all, he already knows he’s a monster.

So... he might as well become one too.

_____

Notes:

Some days you just gotta have an entire mental breakdown and go full wyrm, y'hear?

HCs I tapped into for this fic:

After being healed, formerly cracked Gems take longer to reform than Gems who were only poofed. Peridot will be okay eventually, she just hasn’t reformed quite yet.

Steven is still able to warp because he hasn’t quite passed the threshold of corruption that prevents a Gem from accessing the warp stream. I imagine it's very much a matter of mental connection, and having the right presence of mind to tap into it. Probably a few minutes after this, if Steven were to continue going downhill and his mind fully fell into the fog of corruption, he’d no longer be able to warp. He got super lucky here.

This potential future blindsided Garnet because previously- like how Steven’s newfound maturity threw her off as discussed in Pool Hopping- she hadn’t factored in the idea of Steven being in such a low mental state. Amethyst was the first to really see past his attempts to mask it because she personally had dealt with depression like this before and knew what it looked like.

Maybe one day after SUF airs I'll write more on this topic, but as for now this will remain a one-shot. I 100% imagine Steven would ultimately be okay in this timeline, though. They'd be able to help him, stop the corruption. Steven goes to heckin' therapy. He'll live on, he'll begin to recover and cope. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Thank you for reading!

[loquaciousquark]

Cut for talk of COVID and irresponsible failure to social distance (my own). Also, some updates on what’s been going on here for the last month or so.

part one:

Very very long story that I am truncating as much as possible. As you all know, I am an optometrist and professor. When we shut down in March, our university made a huge, painful shift to remote learning and our student clinic ceased operations altogether. Neither students nor faculty saw patients from March 15 - the the middle of May. At the end of May, faculty began seeing patients directly in an extremely reduced schedule, and at the beginning of June, we began adding in very limited numbers of students in a rolling schedule that minimized exposure to all involved.

Three weeks ago, my dear friend Jasper contacted me and said that an old friend of hers, whom I will call Carol, was in dire straits after losing her job overseas. Carol has an extremely rocky history: a terrible car accident that left her legs and feet permanently damaged which directly led to a very bad divorce, significant student loan debt (just shy of six digits I think, compounded from the accident, since she used her student loans to pay her medical bills--for anyone reading this, do not EVER EVER EVER DO THIS--student loans are never touched by bankruptcy declarations and you will owe them until you die), and something of an inability to put down roots. She is an English teacher who has taught and traveled all over the world: Prague, Bahrain, Czech Republic, Los Angeles, Rio, etc.

When I first met her about ten years ago, she had come back to Alabama from Prague because a job had fallen through. She was completely broke and living out of two suitcases and a carry-on. She lived with us for three months for free, sleeping in Jasper’s bed because we had no other room for her, and eventually got a job in Boston and moved on. She lasted--I think--about two months in Boston before quitting and taking a job in the Middle East.

On top of her student loan debt, Carol also has significant IRS debt and is in debt to several of her friends. Over the last few years, she took several ill-advised positions overseas back to back without ever consulting a lawyer on her contracts, and did not realize until recently that one of her positions classified her as an independent contractor instead of an employee, so she owed US taxes on all her income for that period of time. Her most recent job in Prague she lost in February because she filed her visa (again, without a lawyer) incorrectly, and what should have been a brief three-week stay outside of the country became a six week stay on the couch of strangers in the Czech Republic while she waited for her visa reapplication to process. However, it was denied, and then COVID hit, and she returned to Alabama with only a portion of her possessions and tons of important paperwork left behind in her Prague apartment. She then unfortunately had two emergency surgeries on her stomach for an acute, unpredictable medical issue, and while she is well healing now, it also added on another forty thousand dollars of medical debt to what she already owed.

She stayed with her mother and sister while she was recovering from the emergency surgeries, but her family is emotionally abusive and very unkind to her, and after a few weeks she left their home and went to stay with Jasper. However, Jasper is also 8 months pregnant with her fourth child, and they both knew it was a temporary thing. Jasper knows that I have a large home with several spare bedrooms, and asked if I would be willing to host Carol for a period of time while she got back on her feet. I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes, and Carol and I settled on a period of two months. She has now been here almost three weeks.

Frankly, I do not like Carol very much. We are unbelievably different people in every way--personality, temperament, proclivity to crying in front of other people, hobbies, interests, religion, all of it. She is a very nice person, and I think she truly does mean well. But she is the most emotionally needy and energy-sapping person I have ever met, and I cannot tolerate her company in more than small chunks. It is not possible to hold a conversation with her about any subject tangentially related to her difficulties; if I try to sympathize with her loans by mentioning my own, she shuts me down by saying at least I will have the chance to ever pay them back. If I just try to listen without commentary, she’ll wrap herself up in her own stories and talk for hours without ever needing more than “mm”s and “hm”s and my undivided attention the entire time.

She will often work herself up into sobbing tears over her situation(s), and she always informs me immediately of any new development in any of her numerous trials: which are usually negative, considering the situation, and usually resulting in more tears. She has cried on me probably more than a dozen times since she moved in, and she wields “I love you” like a weapon, more to hear the validation of the response than to truly express the sentiment. She constantly asks for advice on her situation but does not listen to any of it--seems more to just want to relive each tragic detail of her life over and over again with an audience, wondering why she’s continually “screwed over in her life.” (Really, really poor financial decisions and constantly trusting her own “intuition” over getting competent legal advice before signing contracts, are I think the biggest contributors.) She has told me so many private details about her personal views, relationships with her ex-husband and mother and sister, her financial choices, and her extensive travel and job history over the last few years that I probably know her history better than my own at this point.

I think she thinks by sharing so much that she is justifying to me her need to stay with me. What is actually happening is that I am forced to help shoulder this enormous emotional load that compounds my own mental health problems I’ve been having since all this started. I have told her more than once that she does not need to justify herself to me and that my home is open to her for two months, no strings attached. I believe she is making all the steps she needs to and do not need reports on her daily activities to “pay” for her lodging or electricity or internet or whatever. This has changed the behavior a little for the better but not stopped it.

There are moments that are not bad. As I have mentioned, she does mean well and want well for most people. She likes Hamlet and loves Jasper, who is extremely important to me. But she is extremely difficult to be around in so many other ways, and the way she constantly exclaims over how we basically think alike on all things (absolutely untrue) makes me think she either will not or cannot read my reluctance to engage on any of these topics.

(An example: I was watching footage of the SpaceX launch and despite my feelings on Elon Musk, really excited about the implications for space travel. She came in, and after misunderstanding for some time that I was not watching Space Force with Steve Carell, decided that the SpaceX program was morally bankrupt, obviously borne of shady backroom government deals, and everyone involved should have used the money to solve world hunger instead. For the record, she had not heard of the shuttle launch, SpaceX, or Elon Musk at all before the seeing the footage.)

(She also until last week had not heard of Playstation, Xbox, streaming as a concept, or any game more modern than the original Mario. Trying to order a grocery delivery online was an excruciating torment for her [took her over four days to get through selecting the items, selecting allowable replacements, and actually paying] and I will not ask her to do it again. She frequently makes comments about video games being a waste of time, and when she sees children playing outside, comments on how glad she is they are not inside playing video games. She doesn’t seem to realize her comments are a direct commentary on me; I think she genuinely does not understand that those games are what I am playing most of my free time.)

Right now, everything seems to hinge on her passing some teacher recertification tests next week and the week after. She spent $150 to give herself less than a week to study from scratch for a test she described as the hardest she’d ever taken. There were several other dates later in the summer she could have chosen, and her deadline is December, but she picked the soonest option for reasons I can’t fathom. She is also in the process of trying to get a car--right now I’m driving her everywhere--and she was ready to hand over $3800 yesterday for a ten-year-old Hyundai with a check-engine light on without even thinking of getting any kind of inspection. She is far more concerned with the color and “energy” of the car than its function, and would not have even checked the headlights and blinkers if I hadn’t prompted it.

She will be here another five weeks or so. We move around each other now better than we did before, and I hope it will continue to improve. But it’s a lot like a rock grinding a groove in the streambed from the repetitive friction, and it’s not the struggle I wanted to be having right now.

part two:

As I mentioned above, Jasper is having her fourth child in a month or so. One of her friends, someone I don’t know, contacted me and said she wanted to do a drive-by “baby sprinkle,” where no one gets out of their cars. You drop off the gifts, talk to the recipient a few minutes from the car window, and move on. I told her that I work in health care and am exposed to patients, so that sounded good to me.

The shower was this morning. Carol and I got up and drove the thirty minutes to Jasper’s house. There were four other families in cars right around the corner, and the “hostess” gave us all balloons to tie on our side mirrors. She told us we would drive around the corner, drop off the gifts, and loop around. Jasper’s husband would arrange for her to be in the front yard at the right time.

Cute enough. We go around the corner with little honks and Jasper sees us and starts crying, and it’s all wonderful and emotional and a fabulous surprise and I’m genuinely excited about it. And then people start parking and getting out of their cars, and Carol and I start looking at each other. They’re full families, too--three of the other moms brought all their kids, and soon enough they’re playing with Jasper’s three boys in the front yard and coming up asking to pet Hamlet through the car window. No one was wearing masks.

And what’s worse, when they all started looking at us expectantly through the car window, we didn’t know what to do. They were handing Jasper her gifts and obviously settling in for a good long chat; the women were hugging, talking about how they are “so over this COVID stuff, please come visit soon,” and Hamlet of course recognizes his original owners in Jasper and her husband so he’s freaking out, and after a few moments, we decided to just get out of the car.

It was the first time I really felt the social pressure to participate in an event I wasn’t comfortable with. I have no issue maintaining my social distance and my mask and my handwashing at work because that is where I have the position of authority, and I have the responsibility to model it for the students and patients--but here, I was a guest at someone else’s house at someone else’s event, and I really, really felt how they might perceive me as rude. While I didn’t know the other women, my relationship with Jasper is extremely important to me, and I didn’t want to make this special event for her difficult in any way.

So we got out of the car and joined the group. I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, especially since I had Hamlet on the leash and there were a half-dozen small children around, but at least twice I looked up and there was someone right at my elbow, and we made small talk for five minutes or so before either she drifted back to the group or I moved Hamlet into the shade away from the rest.

Cars drove by and slowed down more than once to look at us. Jasper’s husband made a comment about rolling his eyes if he saw their family on Facebook that evening. The women planned play dates, all standing very close together, and Jasper opened her gifts (that part was excellent). All in all we were probably there about twenty minutes. 

I should mention that on the drive there, we passed a public park that has a very pretty waterfall right next to the road, and there were probably a dozen families out playing. There was a festival/outdoor market right outside the the park that had a sign up about social distancing, but the fifty or so people we saw shopping there were not adhering in any meaningful way. No one wore a mask.

And what annoys the bejeezus out of me is that I didn’t either. I didn’t even think about it until after we finally got back in the car to drive away. This is the first social event I’ve gone to since the first week of March, and while I wear masks for eight+ hours every day I go in to work, it didn’t occur to me even a single time to put on even my little cloth one that I keep in the car until we were driving away afterwards. I was so flummoxed by every little thing happening differently than I expected--people getting out of cars, how surprised I was by my own susceptibility to not rocking the boat, how normal everyone else made it to stand so close they could bump elbows so that Carol and I became almost excluded from the circle--that it never once crossed my mind. I know masks are more for the protection of those around you, not to keep you from catching what other people are carrying, but I could have set an example. I could have been the health professional I should have been in the moment.

I’m just so disappointed in myself. Disappointed in my own carelessness, irritated that I didn’t say anything, continually frustrated in a deep, gut-wrenching way by the whole situation that requires this in the first place. Bewildered that so many people are “back to normal” while this thing is still spreading, and in brutal honesty wishing I could be like them and just give up the fight myself. I’m not even mad at them. I WANT TO BE THEM. Why am I continually bothering to care and sanitize and mask and stay at home when no one else is? Literally no one would judge me in this state for it more than I’m already being judged (in most cases impersonally, though I felt the potential for it today in specific) for still watching the recommended guidelines.

I am really, really sick of this. I am so sick of feeling alone in this (of being alone in this, and Carol doesn’t count). Hearing other people saying “there there, you’re doing the right thing” honestly makes it even worse. I want people to stop patronizingly telling me to do things I already know are the right thing to do. I want other people as mad as I am that I can’t do the things I want to and need to do instead of being endlessly patient and noble about all the lives they’re saving by staying home. I’m top-of-my-head-blowing-off furious that so many people are shrugging and saying “well this is just the way it will be forever and alas, so it goes” and acting like those of us who did the right thing and cancelled our plans and our trips and our visits to dear friends but who are mad about having to do it are overreacting. I’m so fucking mad about it. I’ve stayed home for two months and I’ve isolated and I’ve quarantined and my hands are cracking from the constant sanitizer/washing at work and except for today I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for this, and I don’t want to do it. And seeing people be so heroically virtuous and longsuffering on Facebook feels as alien and upsetting to me as the people who go to the beaches with a hundred of their closest friends.

That’s probably unfair in myriad ways. I’m really too angry, including at myelf, to soften it right now.

I want a vaccine and I want to be back in my classroom teaching to fifty faces instead of a screen in my living room, and I’m honestly freaking sick of waiting at home for them to figure this out. And watching everyone else move on with their lives back to the normal I would kill to have is just one more crack in the dike.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 165prt 1

165

Crawling into bed at the end of the day, Lance felt emotionally tender. Curtis had another episode. When he’d gone to the bathroom, he’d been startled by his friend standing there, seeming lost and confused as to why he was no longer in the living room. Curtis wanted to go back to Platt. Nothing Lance said seemed to make his friend feel any better, if anything he wondered if he was the reason Curtis’s demon side seemed so moody.

“Babe?”

Keith had all but died when he’d collapsed on his side of the bed, making it seem like the biggest effort ever to get under the covers and hold his arm out for Lance to crawl into his hold. Resting his head against Keith’s chest, Lance let out a deep sigh. Wrapping his arm around him, Keith tilted his head up to kiss Lance on the top of his head

“You’re still worrying about Curtis”

“I am. It’s not fair”

Being half cursed seemed much better than this. Lance wondered how a fragile human body could contain both Curtis’s spirit and a demon. The mental strength to contain both had to be taxing

“No. It’s not fair at all”

“I think I upset him earlier”

“You mean before...”

They’d been talking, Lance trying so hard to make Curtis see that he didn’t blame him for anything the demon had done. Yeah, he couldn’t stop himself getting upset that nursery wall was broken seeing it was the nursery, but better a broken wall than to lose a friend over this. Then Curtis had snapped. He’d gone to attack him, Lance fast and strong enough to block the move before anything could happen. Curtis sent falling on his as he’d kicked him. The ruckus in the hall summoning their friends. Lance trying to lie that Curtis had tripped, but Curtis had yelled at them all to leave him alone before stalking out the house. Shiro jogging after him as Krolia came to Lance’s side and “support him” back to the living room. Hunk and Shay had left, the number of explanations he owed his friend only growing. Which really sucked as Lance didn’t believe Curtis would go them seeing they were harmless humans. Keith’s actions, though playful, could be seen as an attack. His actions... maybe a personal attack? Or at least to the demon

“Yeah. He wanted to go back to Platt and I didn’t want him to”

A broken wall could be fixed. Lance had broken through the wall tripping on the stairs more times than his pride would let him admit. Keith sighed softly as he wriggled down a little, moving his free hand up to rest under his head

“Shiro did mention Curtis seemed to be blacking out more, but he wasn’t like this at the apartment”

“No. I wonder if Coran put some kind of magic in place in the apartment to keep Curtis anchored”

There were any number of factors as to why the demon was upset. The apartment was a small confined place with limited entrances and exits. The house was big, filled with the scents of their friends, two werewolves, and that of a vampire. Keith’s voice tumbled as he mumbled

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. Shiro loved Adam so much, and now Curtis is hurting. I don’t know what to do”

Keith had such a kind heart. Not too long ago Curtis would have been collateral damage if that meant protecting Shiro’s life. Now Keith knew how to let people in, he didn’t know how to love his brother and not rush in head first to protect him

“We could lie?”

“Hmm?”

“Come up with a reason why we need to be in Platt? Until the summoning?”

Lying sucked. It hurt and it sucked. Yet a gentle lie might be the only way to get Keith on the inside where he could help his brother

“I don’t want you near VOLTRON when they try summon the demon out. The bastard’s fucking strong”

Lance snorted as he rubbed his cheek against Keith’s chest

“He is a demon. I suppose it comes with the territory. Maybe that’s what’s wrong? Curtis isn’t in what he considers his territory?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know what to do. Do you think he’d hurt Shiro? Even by accident?”

“I don’t know about demon egos. It’s possible the demon sees Shiro as a mate and is reluctant to let go of him and the human world. I’m sorry, babe. I really have no idea. I though trying to reassure him would help but I only made him madder. If you can stay with Shiro for a bit, I think it’d really help him”

Keith’s fingers came to play with the stray ends of Lance’s hair, his boyfriend sighing heavily. Yep. Lance felt every bit of the sigh as he fought his drooping eyelids

“I don’t want to leave you here”

“Your brother needs you”

“So do you. Plus, I’m tired of Platt. I like it out here in our house better than being in the city”

“I’ll remember to tell Shiro how awful of a housemate he is”

“Ha ha. You know what I mean”

“I do. But I’ve been back and forth between here and Platt for years, no like you”

“Will I even be able to help if I go to Platt? What if Curtis thinks I don’t trust him with Shiro?”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but I think he thinks none of us trust him, despite what we say”

Falling silent, Lance couldn’t fight the need for sleep. Milliseconds away from it, he jumped a little as Keith broke the silence

“I don’t know what to do”

“You could ask Coran if you can go back to work early?”

“Ugh. I don’t want to go back to work”

Lance turned his head, letting his chin dig into Keith’s chest, fingertips tracing no real pattern over Keith’s side

“I know. You’ve become so lazy... and I’ve become so spoilt. If we lie about the twins to Curtis I feel like that’d be super cruel. After everything that happened, he’d be so worried about me. I don’t think I can do that to him. Maybe we could say you wanted to talk to Krolia? That’s all I’ve got. You’re either there to talk to her, or you’re there to work”

Keith leaned up again, to kiss him on the cheek this time

“I could take your phone up there. But that would only give me a few hours in Platt”

A few hours were better than no hours, and Lance did trust Keith completely with his phone. He could stay behind, so it wouldn’t seem like some kind of intervention

“If you had Shiro being Curtis to VOLTRON, I’m sure Coran would be able to give him some kind of task that’d give you two a chance to talk. I hate all this deception. I want to be there for both of them”

“We could tell them the truth? That we want to be there for them?”

“Shiro would insist he can handle this”

“Why don’t you wake him up?”

Shiro and Curtis were spending the night in the living room, Krolia sleeping in the office, where she was forbidden from snooping

“And say what?”

“That you’re his brother and you want him to know he can lean on you? Like any relationship we’re caught up in each other and that isn’t a bad thing... sometimes it nice to hear that someone’s there for you”

“What if I upset Curtis?”

“Matt and Rieva are right downstairs. Should he have another episode, they’re there. They won’t hurt him because they care for him too”

“It sounds to me like you don’t care about the house as much as you let on”

Keith knew he was fiercely house proud. His boyfriend trying to tease him into worrying less

“Rude. I do care. You know I care”

“Says the guy who was riding the chair arm yesterday”

“Says the guy who didn’t clean up everything...”

“I tried. It’s not my fault you were horny”

“I’m pretty sure it is when you’re the only one I’m horny for”

Keith chuckled

“That’s fair. I still don’t know what to do”

“Go talk to Shiro. Maybe he can tell you what he really needs help with right now?”

“That means getting up, and you look ready to sleep for a week”

That’d be nice. Keith would panic... so he couldn’t... Maybe he should aim for a nap in his death soil to perk him back up? He’d been feeling pretty fat and flat today

“Oh, trust me, I missed not having my nap. There’s tired and there’s “I’m about to pass out”. I’m totally about to pass out, babe”

“You okay?”

“Mmm. Just sleepy. I couldn’t sleep earlier because I couldn’t calm down until I knew you weren’t concussed”

“I said I wasn’t”

“That sounds like something who’s concussed would say”

“Idiot. Do you really think talking with Shiro is the right move?”

“Yeah, babe. I do. Don’t worry, I promise to be snoring by the time you come back”

“Oh, I know you will. You’ll be all spread across the bed, snoring your head off... belly and boobs out without a care”

“Shut up. I can’t help it”

“I know. Alright. I’m going to go talk to Shiro. Don’t blame me if he yells”

“Mmm. I love you, and I’m going to yell at both of you if you wake me up. Growing babies is exhausting”

“Harder than making cupcakes?”

“You, sir, have no idea. Gimme a kiss”

Keith rolled him back on their bed, his boyfriend peppering kisses to Lance’s lips until he wrinkled his face up trying not to laugh as he pushed Keith away

“Okay! Okay! Go already. I want my sleep”

Keith faked drawing away from him, before leaning in to kiss Lance’s forehead

“I love you, babe. I’ll be back soon”

*

Lance was too tempting. The moment Keith’s feet hit the cold wood flooring, he wanted to climb back into bed and keep kissing his boyfriend until they both fell asleep. His damn throat still hurt from the morning, definitely slightly swollen and in that awkward stage where it wasn’t swollen enough to be bothered about it in a medical treatment sense, yet not not swollen enough that it wasn’t annoying every-time he swallowed. Lance would worry needlessly if he knew. Grabbing Lance’s robe from the back of the bedroom door, Keith wrapped himself up in it before borrowing his boyfriend’s matching slippers. If Keith from this time last year could only see him now, he’d never believe it.

Shuffling down to the living room, Keith poked his head in. He couldn’t actually see anything, the house too damn dark at night for that, so blindly he continued on to the kitchen. Flicking the light on, he nearly screeched at the sight of his mother playing on her phone. His heart racing as he glared at her

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I could ask you the same thing. I thought you went to bed”

“I did, now I’m getting a drink of water”

Krolia snorted at him, turning off her phone screen and placing the device on the kitchen table

“You’re a terrible liar. You couldn’t stop thinking about Shiro”

“Maybe. You are too”

“I know I am. How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts and my throat feels like shit”

“To be expected. Curtis did slam you against the wall quite hard”

“He didn’t mean to. You only came because of Curtis, didn’t you?”

Krolia sighed at him, opting for honesty that Keith hadn’t expected

“Yes and no. Coran asked me to keep an eye on Curtis, but I also wanted to be here to see the nursery. It reminded me when we were planning yours. Things have changed a lot since then”

Keith didn’t know what to make of that. He only knew what that he’d been utterly clueless about things and if not for Lance, he’d be useless. Moving to the sink, he snagged his coffee mug, filling it with cold water out of the tap

“Is Lance okay? I noticed he seemed in pain today”

Downing half the mug, Keith turned the tap off, then turned to lean against the counter

“Coran says because his body is so sensitive to things that he’s feeling the pain of the false contractions”

“I remember the first time I felt them. Your dad panicked. He wanted to take me to hospital because he thought you were coming too soon. Do you and Lance had a plan for when he does go into labour?”

“I think Coran wants him to stay about two weeks before he’s due if he makes it that far. If there’s another complication, he wants to deliver them early”

“I’m sorry it’s not going smoothly. Is there any way I can help?”

What was Krolia supposed to do help? There was nothing they could do that they weren’t already doing

“It’s fine. Coran’s managing that side of things and Lance had a bunch of injections so his body doesn’t start feeding off the twins”

“Are you planning on having more kids in the future?”

“It depends on Lance. And how this pregnancy goes. If he doesn’t want to, then we won’t. It’s not like I’m the one doing all the hard work”

“Lance may be, but you are too. You’re their father, and you’re taking care of him the best you can. It’s not easy”

“No, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh, and thanks for complicating things. Our whole friends group has this idea I’m going to propose”

Krolia laughing wasn’t what he expected, though with her he really should have

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little impatient. Miriam and I talked a lot about it”

Keith wasn’t surprised, but with Shiro on his mind, he couldn’t handle letting his thoughts linger on how much he missed Mami

“You think?”

“Well, it’s not only from a romance point of view that I’m thinking. If you two were to wed, he’d have access to a pay out if you were injured on the job”

Her words cut deep. His almost instinctive fear of failing her bubbling up to the surface

“Thanks, mum. Way to have faith in me”

“It’s not just that. He’s more likely to be left alone too, and he’d have greater protection”

“Coran’s enough. Besides, I can do my job just fine”

“I know you can. Have you two come up with names yet?”

Keith rolled his eyes

“Tell me when we’ve had a chance? I’ve been working most days on my bike and Lance wants to concentrate on staying on top of his health”

“Krolia is a great name”

Ugh. He’d heard the same thing from all of their friends

“I’ll add it to the list. So far it consists of all our friends”

“Ah, but I should get preferential treatment as your mother”

“Pretty sure you had preferential treatment when you named me. Besides, Lance and I want to wait. We want to be surprised when the twins come”

“Oh, you will be. Labour isn’t as painful as it seems on TV but the pressure to push, that’s the worst bit. I’ve had period cramps worse than contractions”

“And I didn’t need to know that”

“Have you watched any birthing videos? Does Lance know if he really does want a c-section?”

Keith couldn’t do it. Nope. He knew he was slightly prudish but he didn’t want to see the intimate bits and pieces of strangers being stretched and torn. He didn’t know what to do with a vagina, let alone one pushing a kid out. He felt icky like he was invading their privacy even if he didn’t understand at all why people would flock to watch it. There was no way he was going there

“Mum, it’s either a c-section or they live in there forever”

“And you’re going to be in the delivery room?”

“Where else am I supposed to be?”

“Just asking. Sheesh, let me be excited over my grandma duties”

“I’ll let you be excited when they’re actually here. Anyway, I didn’t come down for a free counselling session over Lance giving birth. I want to be there for Shiro, but I don’t know what to do”

Krolia rolled her eyes at him, grabbing her cup of coffee as she did

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“I was going to talk to him, but I found a crazy woman in my kitchen and wound up talking to her instead”

Krolia frowned at him

“Your kitchen?”

“Fine, Lance’s kitchen”

Was it Lance’s house still? Or was it their house? Or was it just “the house”. Lance owned it, Keith’s name appearing no where on the deed to the property. If he was going to be with Lance forever, as he planned, was that something they had to do?

“Oh-oh, you’re making a face. What did I do now?”

“Nothing. I was thinking about Lance”

“When aren’t you thinking about Lance?”

“When I’m trying to figure out how to help my brother!”

He had the capability of thinking about things other than his boyfriend. Everyone seemed to think he had this one track mind that purely revolved around Lance every moment of every day

“No need to snap. Look, my advice is that you talk to Shiro. He spends the most time with Curtis out of all us. He knows what he needs help with. It’s like him coming to you to ask how to help you and Lance. He needs to know what to do and who better to tell him than both of you?”

“Like I said, I was going to, then I ended up talking to you”

“Then go talk to him”

“Fine. I will”

“Good”

“Good. Yeah”

Fuck if that hadn’t just confused his poor sleepy brain. He’d been content falling into bed with Lance, telling himself he’d finally have time to think then, only when he had all he wanted to do was sleep because thinking actually seemed to hurt his head. Curtis’s strength had been no joke. He’d must have had his head slammed into things a thousand times by now, and it never felt any better for it.

“Fuck!”

Now he had to get Shiro to both wake up, and to get him alone. His mother hummed at his small outburst

“Hmm?”

“I have to wake him up if I want to talk to him”

“You’ll find Shiro’s already awake. He’s had a few sleepless nights”

“He slept fine when we were there”

“Probably because he knew Lance has the strength to subdue Curtis if something were to happen. Coran said he felt that Lance could”

“Lance has enough troubles with his strength, he doesn’t need to be using too much at once”

“I’m simply saying he is strong”

“So? Matt and Rieva are right there down the hall. The two of them should stand a chance”

Keith didn’t get what Krolia meant. Matt and Rieva were there friends. Did Krolia think that Shiro trusted Lance more than them, or that he’d go easier on Curtis than the pair of them? Great. Now he was doubting things

“You know you’re not helping things. I think I’m more confused than when you started talking”

“I’m simply saying things as I see them”

“Well either say these simple things simply or make more sense”

Keith replayed the sentence in his head, trying to figure out if he’d said the right thing the way he’d wanted to. This was why Lance did the thinking for the both of them

“If you want my opinion I feel Shiro would trust Lance more with Curtis’s life than with Matt and Rieva due to their pack instincts. A glance tells you that Rieva would readily spill blood to protect Lance and the twins”

“And you couldn’t have said it like that to begin with”

“I thought I did”

Keith let out a frustrated groan, turning to put his glass in the sink as he did

“You didn’t”

“I’m sure I did. Maybe you’re thinking so much so that you’ve blown up your brain cells”

“Mum!”

Krolia chuckled happily

“Don’t be like that. Being your mum means I can tease you”

“I’d rather you didn’t”

“Even if it’s meant with love?”

Love. Things were easier when he didn’t have so many people he loved... yet knowing love, he realised how empty his life had been in so many ways. Shiro had fixed his broken heart the best he could. Comforted and guided him. There was no one else he’d want as a big brother. Still, Mami gave him the courage to see that he worthy of the love of his mother. God. He missed Mami’s wisdom and guidance so much

“Especially if it’s meant with love. You said you talked to Mami, before she died... Do you think she was happy with Lance? I mean, I know she would but, but I think Lance would like to hear it from you”

“We spoke a bit before I headed to join the mission. I know Lance’s family kicked up some kind of shit over her rings, but Miriam wanted you to have them both to give to Lance when the time was right. She was proud to know you, and had a few things to say about how she wished you’d come into his life sooner. I’m sorry, I know you’re going to be mad, but she told me a lot about you and how gentle you seemed despite being awkward at first. She was happy with Lance, though she missed you terribly. She never lost hope in you coming back to be with Lance”

Keith took a long and shaky breath, gripping the counter as he slowly released it. The world didn’t deserve Mami and her love

[ngame989]

SVTFOE: A Retrospective

Happy Mama Star Day!

OK, first and foremost, a quick update on TGG: I plan to have something ready for at least one of the major anniversaries coming up, and hopefully will resume slightly more regular updates from then forward. Thanks to everyone for your continued support, it’s been a rough year so far for me personally and for everyone in in the current pandemic situation. The anniversary of both STH and Mama Star seemed like a fitting time to get some things off my chest, both good and bad, so I’ll do that now and get it out of the way to focus on bigger and better things in the future. Fair warning, this is gonna be long and rambly and personal more than it is any sort of serious show analysis. If you’re looking for fun, feel-good celebration of what definitely were some of my favorite moments in the series, I’m not so sure this is gonna be the post for you.

It goes without saying that Star vs the Forces of Evil, for better or worse, is incredibly important to me and has been without fail for years. How are you supposed to feel when something that important lets you down so hard? Is having such strong, mixed emotions and attachment better than having nothing you care about at all? The past year hasn’t answered these questions for me, and this post certainly won’t either. There’s no thesis or likely any kind of closure here, just me baring a bit of my soul here on tumblr dot com.

It’s been a rough year or two for me. I don’t want to get too much into the specifics, but let’s just say I hit a crossroads where the entire path I’d envisioned for myself in life came into serious question, and I had been spiraling into depression and paralyzing anxiety over a complete lack of any fulfillment in my “professional” life for months before I even recognized it for what it was. Season 3 finished airing around the last few months of my undergraduate degree, which (while obviously it significantly emotionally impacted me) was a generally happy and stable time in my life. As things started to change and get worse for me, SVTFOE S4 was my ray of hope. I’m not kidding when I say that some days in the hiatus leading up to it, the thought of S4 delivering on its potential for emotional fulfillment and Starco goodness (consistently, not just at the end) was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning and the only positive thing I could see in my future. 

When we got the S4 we got, it shattered me, utterly and completely. This isn’t an attempt to dunk on S4 in some “objective” manner - hell, I even like a lot of the things about it that the fandom despises (the ending prioritizing character closure over lore, the upheaval of the political structure rather than just having Star become the Goodest Queen, etc). I’d still make the argument that a lot of the character development was very flimsy and poorly paced, a very clear effort to force the relationship resolution to be delayed until the end at all costs, but that’s not the point here. Life felt dull and lonely and warm fluffy Starco was my vicarious escape from that, and the season we got left me so completely hollow insid that it felt like I couldn’t breathe for its first more-than-a-dozen episodes, and I was so burnt out that I couldn’t even properly enjoy the parts that were genuinely good.

Even earlyish on, I was already fearing that things wouldn’t be resolved till the end and that there’d be almost none of the content I actually longed for from the show. As I’ve mentioned before, The Greatest Gift was born the morning after Lake House Fever’s late night release, out of salt and spite and a need to give myself something good to look forward to, even if it would be something I’d be making myself. I completely removed myself from even passing conversations with my best friends in the fandom because it hurt too much to even think about. I even had Seddm give me summaries of episodes before I watched them so I could take some time to emotionally prepare (at least until the 2nd to last week). And to the show’s credit, its last few weeks of episodes (with some exceptions) tried their absolute damnedest to right the ship (pun intended) and bring back the sorts of things I wanted with a vengeance. I was smiling like a complete fool for 12 hours straight after Here to Help. The ending didn’t fix my issues with the show, not by a fucking long shot, but it at least left me on a positive enough note that there was a feverish enthusiasm to continue it further on my own.

But it’s been tough. Have you or a family member/friend ever gotten bad food poisoning from a restaurant you really liked, and the smell of it makes you queasy afterwards even though you do really like it? That’s probably the best analogy I can draw to a lot of my relationship with SVTFOE since it ended. PLEASE NOTE I’M IN NO WAY TRYING TO EQUATE THE MAGNITUDE OF MY IRE WITH A CARTOON WITH SERIOUS DISORDERS THAT PEOPLE SUFFER FROM, but I’d almost be tempted to liken it to PTSD. Seeing reminders of the painful parts can put me in a bad mood for hours, and on some days even just dwelling on the show in any way will invite creeping negativity and “why the fuck couldn’t it have just-” types of thoughts taking over. There have been some days writing TGG where having to draw inspiration from or reference events/dialogues in S4 was so emotionally taxing that I had to stop writing for the night. I blocked Seddm’s entire askbox tag because I’d find my own emotions frothing into a rage over things in the show people would bring up. I’ve lost acquaintances and potential friendships over my bitterness. I instantly block anyone who posts even a hint of Tomstar/Kellco content in the Starco tags on any site because it induces such palpable negativity in my heart - I think I’m up to 1000 accounts blocked on Instagram right now, which is why Toxic runs the TGG page over there. If you’re one of the people out there that tried to strike up a conversation with me over a shared interest in the show and I vomited bile into your DMs, I sincerely apologize. And to anyone who got wrapped up in the brazen high hopes I put forth here every day as S4 approached and came crashing down with me as a result, I’m sorry for that too.

And yet... I can’t say there’s not a genuine love I still have for a lot of it. I still have my little shrine of stickers and pictures that I’ll sometimes just get let myself get lost in. There was a recent postcanon fic started by someone who just caught up on the show that brought such a depth of warmth into my chest that I’m smiling like an idiot just now thinking about it. I haven’t watched even a clip (let alone a whole episode) that Star and Marco’s voices in my head feel distant and abstract, but when I’m writing chapters I can still get emotional imagining them saying and doing things out of their devotion to one another. I’ve made no secret that I (to put it very very very lightly) have a strong distaste for the vast majority of this fandom, and yet the joy of knowing I could make people’s days or lives brighter gives me a satisfaction I can’t put words to. Don’t get me wrong, writing quickly just isn’t my thing normally anyway - I’m not trying to suggest that the sole reason for TGG downtime is that I’m driving knives into my own heart and pouring my blood onto the page. Just that that’s part of it, and it takes its toll. 

The last few months, although I have missed the joy of brewing up fluff ideas and seeing them come to life, have admittedly been a welcome reprieve just not having to think about this stuff so much. In the last few weeks I’ve finally been coming around to a bit of a better place where the good bubbles up without bringing as much of the bad with it. It will likely still wax and wane, and I can’t guarantee if or when TGG will fully finish. And this isn’t my entire life - I have MMOs and card games and all kinds of other hobbies that suck up lots of my time, so don’t worry about me just lying in bed sobbing over S4 for 12 hours a day. I don’t know if the day will ever come when I can truly be at peace with it all, but I don’t want to toss out the good with the bad. All I can ask is for your patience as my own journey evolves alongside my writing, until the day comes when perhaps this story can finally come to a close. Thanks for reading, and stay safe.

Ngame

[venusiandivination]

What is being hidden from you?

 The question I asked the tarot today is “What is being hidden from you?” A couple of messages that came out seemed to be more on the air of how you’re doing rather than what is being hidden, but nevertheless, here is your reading!

Click the “Keep Reading” tab and scroll to the pile that you chose to see your reading.

  Pile 1

I am sensing that you are out of balance, Pile 1. I feel as though you are not feeling much like you have control over your life and it is causing you to feel “out of whack.” With the Temperance and the Wheel of Fortune in reverse, there isn’t a sense of peace in your life – perhaps you just feel like you’ve been given a long stream of bad luck. This is due to external forces, so you can rest assured that it has nothing to do with you. This could mean many things, such as you are going through a lesson period that you have not quite made it through yet, and therefore feel as though everything has gone downhill because the Universe is trying to push you to learn your lesson. It could also mean that somebody is trying to keep you down. This doesn’t mean that you can’t fight it, though! I do feel this has more to do with karma to be repaid, however, because of the Six of Pentacles. This card always talks about being generous and forgiving – giving away to charity, helping those in need, and giving what you can to those who are less fortunate than you. It is possible to pull yourself out of this funk by giving back. I also pulled Capricorn, which speaks of ambition and goal-setting. Perhaps you need to sit down and figure out how you’re going to pull yourself out? Strive to be a better person, and the Universe will reward you. I also pulled Uranus, which talks of sudden transformation, much like The Tower card. Typically, these cards show up when something sudden is going to happen and break down everything you know as it is to create and rebuild something better. I believe that you, yourself, need to be the genius behind this transformation. Use Capricorns wisdom to really plan out how you’re going to do better and break down everything that isn’t serving you. Uranus is pushing you to be the brains behind the fallout. Regardless if you are not in control of what is happening in your life, this is your reminder that you ARE in control of 1. How you react to these external forces and 2. What you do to try and change your circumstances.

  Pile 2

I feel like your emotions are being put on the backburner here, Pile 2. I am getting that maybe you tried put your toe in the water of love and were left out in the cold, perhaps. Ace of Cups and Five of Pentacles tell me that you were in the bliss of something emotionally driven, and suddenly it was yanked out from underneath you and gave way to an ignorance about your feelings. I pulled The Lovers as well, which is a very good sign. This can indicate a soulmate connection, however, I feel in this context it is just reminding you that there will be more love to come. It’s not over yet! If this emotionally driven situation was not relationship-related, then I feel The Lovers are going to ask you to make a decision soon. Whatever it is that you are ignoring is going to demand an answer – although The Lovers feels like a soft, sort of mushy card, it is still part of the Major Arcana. I pulled Cancer, which also indicates that you have been pushing your feelings aside regarding this matter and trying to ignore it. Cancers love being in partnership – they quite literally love love – and you are going to have to face love eventually. You aren’t going to be able to put it off and hide from it forever! I also pulled Chiron, which can be a kind of difficult healing. You heal, but in a very intense way. Chiron is all about facing yourself, realizing all of the ugly parts of you to dig deep and heal those wounds. Your Shadow Self is always appearing in every decision you make, so maybe recognize those traits that you are suppressing and work out the kinks to become the best you – then see your dreams realized.

Pile 3

I’m getting a very defeated feeling here with the Seven of Wands reversed and the Three of Swords. I feel as though you have had to grieve something recently, and it’s completely taken the wind out of you. You’ve basically given up. This could be a relationship, the loss of a loved one (whether in death or a non-romantic break-up,) or even perhaps the loss of a job you really liked, or the end to career you thought you wanted. I’m sensing that this has been extremely difficult for you, so much so that I even want to say I’m sorry. I think you have really been defeated by this situation. I’m not getting the sense that you’re unsure of where to go, more unsure that you WANT to go. But unfortunately, tarot is always here to help you, whether you like it or not. I pulled the Four of Pentacles reversed, which is all about letting go of situations and moving forward. The Four of Pentacles upright describes a greedy, selfish person. Reversed, it’s all about being open to new things and lightheartedly going where life takes us. The oracle I pulled for you are Aquarius, which is the sign of humanitarianism. “I Know” is written across the front of the card, and I feel that is where this is leading – You KNOW it’s time to stop grieving. You KNOW it’s time to let go and move on. I also pulled Mercury Retrograde, which is all about reinvention! During a Mercury Retrograde, we typically aren’t ourselves – our words get jumbled and we feel like we’re glitching in the Matrix. I feel like this is where you are now, right in the middle of an unexpected failure. But when Mercury goes direct, we don’t continue those mishaps and mistakes. We get up and fix what needs to be fixed, and we move on. Find the motivation and get up, because you’re only as good as your next move.

Pile 4

The only thing I really want to start off with looking at all of these cards as a whole, is how freaking powerful of a person you are, Pile 4. You are K-I-L-L-I-N-G it. I believe what is hidden from you IS this power. You’re not aware that you are a badass. Perhaps with the Magician reversed, you are aware but not using it wisely. That will not be the case for most of you, however, with the Empress seated right next to him. Perhaps someone in your life is manipulative and trying to keep you from seeing your own worth. However, I believe you are owning your feminine side, creating and manifesting everything around you whether you know it or not, and despite any attempt at pushing you down. I also pulled The Sun for you, meaning positivity at it’s highest in a tarot deck, and the absolute best of life to come. Perhaps you are working hard toward something right now, as I pulled Taurus, all about material possessions and what is in the bank account. Whether that be working overtime to afford a car or just have a little extra cushion in the bank account in case you decide you need something down the line. Whatever it is, you are on the right path with North Node. The North Node is all about life’s path forward, going more toward the North Node in this lifetime to get away from the South Node of your past lifetimes. North Node is THE lesson you should be learning, and I feel as though you have it down pat.

Pile 5

With the World and the Hermit reversed, I feel a lot of stagnation and loneliness, Pile 5. You are not feeling like you’re getting anywhere with whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish. Perhaps the state of world currently has you on edge and is truly getting to your state of mind. The Five of Wands reversed lets me know that the battle is going to be short-lived. However long you have been feeling this way, you’re going to come out on top soon. A solution to your worries is coming quickly, and you’re going to get out of this rut to realize the true potential of the World at its most powerful – success and accomplishment. Perhaps you’ve already come across the solution and it is just hidden to you, as would be the namesake of this reading. For your oracle I pulled the Twelfth House, which is generally about our subconscious. The unknown part of us lives in the Twelfth house. Those mannerisms that we are unaware of and can let take over us without really being aware it’s happening. Look to your chart and see what sign lies in the Twelfth house – perhaps it is Leo, where your ego is almost nonexistent, or Libra, where we learn to balance ourselves. Perhaps this will give you the push you have been needing. I also pulled Scorpio, the dark sign of transformation that is ruled by Pluto. This sign is about death, taxes, and those darker parts of life that are necessary to see the better parts. I feel as though the transformation is coming soon, along with the Five of Wands reversed. The recommendation here is to let your desires be known, outwardly and to yourself. Perhaps you are not really sure why you’re in this rut, but a little but of inward reflection will tell you exactly where you want to be, and pushing this desire into the Universe will make it happen!

[girlwiththealligatortattoo]

Another sad day, and a stain on humanity, as Republican governor Brad Little, of Idaho, has signed a bill to allow the killing of up to 90% of Idaho's wolves. Even pro-hunting groups were against this bill, as it flies in the face of all science, promotes myths and lies, and lines the pockets of cattle ranchers.

I, for one, am SO WEARY, of animals, including wolves, wild horses, cougars, bears, coyotes, sage grouse, and many more, suffering because of the demand for cattle grazing land.

I've worked decades to pay my way daily for my education and the costs that it took to get where I am. And yet my tax dollars, against my will and ethical choice, go to pay for cattle to graze on public lands, and they pay for the murder of all of these animals. I find this to be an egregious abuse of my hard earned money. Let cattle ranchers fund their operations with their own lands and money - not mine.

Most Americans don't realize that they fund cattle grazing on public lands (because hey, that sounds harmless...in theory), but in turn, they also fund the demand of cattle ranchers to round up wild horses, the killing of wolves (as this horrible bill allows), and the removal of other species, along with the secondary deleterious environmental impacts. Most Americans that I know would be appalled to know that they pay to kill so many animals.

I'll continue to fight these horrific practices, through spreading my message of the importance of other animals, through my active writing to political leaders, and through my support of good animal conservation organizations. I think it's very important to emphasize, that we too, are an animal, and EVERY ANIMAL has limited resources. Please consider that if you have a meal tonight, and a roof, you are fortunate, not entitled.

The notion of entitlement in nature is a farce. We live behind a façade of "civilization" full of concrete and grocery stores, and we are far removed from actual survival skills. The human animal has become more of a consumer than a producer. More of a parasite.

Nearly half of our adults in America have metabolic syndrome and fatty liver disease, and the diseases of modernity such as diabetes, heart disease, and even Alzheimer's are directly tied to our consumption. I'm just not sure that our "progress" has truly been what it claims to be.

And I'm sure that an animal that practices this horrific killing for money is decidedly NOT civilized.

No animal outlasts its resources, and that will include us. Every animal is "checked" by nature. COVID should have been a wake up call, but I'm not sure that it has been. I'm very uncertain of our supposed "intelligence."

I sure hope we can turn our legacy around. Let us make our legacy not one of pathetic, greedy consumption. Let us make our legacy one in which we understand our place in this absolute MIRACLE that we call LIFE. Let us cherish, rather than destroy. Let us find balance. Let us walk in beauty upon this earth, rather than take, take, take, take, take...

There are wonderful people out there, who care about other humans, and they care about other animals. To you, I salute you. I honor you. My spirit bows to your spirit. And thank you for being who you are. You are who and what gives me hope.

Shame on you, Idaho. What a great reason for me to stay the hell away when I'm considering where I might want to spend my dollars. I'm utterly appalled. And my soul is devastated. And yet I'm fortified; I'm determined. I will fight these blatantly unethical practices tooth and nail, until my last breath.

Beautiful people. Please stop leaving choices to politicians. Can't you see the blatant corruption in every political party and every corner? The back door deals and not allowing citizens to make the call? These folks are largely bought and paid for by one industry or another. It's disgusting and shameful. But you have power, my fellow American citizen. You have the power of choice. Because it is obviously the almighty dollar that we collectively worship.

One of the absolute most effective things you can do, that would help with so many issues, is to VOTE WITH YOUR DOLLARS. Remember, whether consciously or not, you are making a choice every time you purchase something. If you quit buying it, the demand will drop.

It will be better for the environment, and better for your health. Every dollar you spend on food, whether it is meat or some processed packaged food, ultimately winds up, defining so much of the outcome of your metabolic health. Ultimately, that impacts our healthcare system.

And frankly, to me, a nation of unhealthy people, is a national security risk. And yet we buy their products, make ourselves sick, destroy other species and environments in the process, and then we buy their medications to treat the symptoms. We live long lives, but often not quality lives. Why not just treat the cause? Why not try to ensure your health rather than indulge your taste buds to the tune of "Oh I love this so much and I could never give this up..."

Believe me, I was raised in a family that owned steak houses and churned out good Southern food. I get it. I have a sweet tooth like nobody's business. But let me be clear: when I see, and saw, what goes on, you'd better be damn sure that I can, and will give it up. I will not allow my taste buds and preferences to remain static and override my empathy and my knowledge of healthy choices for myself, other animals, our healthcare system, and for sustainable human life on this planet.

You won't catch me purchasing cattle for consumption. Why?

Because this is no small family raising and consuming their own. Most folks wouldn't know the first thing about gardening or animal husbandry for survival. Purchase of foods in plastic from containers in grocery stores, where everything seems so abundant, has contributed to us becoming a very sick animal indeed, mentally, emotionally, and physically, because we are SO OUT OF TOUCH.

This is big business, with unethical acts involved, that is subsidized against my will, as a taxpayer. And I will take a stand by refusing to purchase their products.

Remember, this is a chain of events that brings them to your plate. The slaughterhouse is horrific, and yet it is only one step in the many, that are casualties of the demand for beef.

Please think about it.

This is a sad, sad mark on humanity.

This bill was about MONEY, not elk, and not other lies they toss at us, most of which we consume eagerly. We turn off our minds, let our eyes glaze over, and eat our Oreos, while binge-watching Netflix. We like to keep these issues out of sight and out of mind. As if they don't concern us. They don't pay our bills, so why worry. I hope we can do better than that. I know we can, if we just try. We can be an amazing and ethical animal.

Let's say no to the blue pill they like to give us. Let's red pill it, folks. Once again, our politicians fail us, while lining their pockets, and big business.

Come on, America. We can do better than this.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 04: The Winding Road

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02 03

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,795

Tag List: @luxekook​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @stillcopingxx​, @taevkimchi​, @aroseforyoongi​, @vivpurple7​, @happilystrongthroughthedark​, @sw33tnight​, @nikkitane​, @mini-coop25​, @taegiq​, 

AN: Just a reminder that this series is going to be updated slowly. Please be patient with me. I promise you that it will be worth the wait. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Roads were made for journeys, not destinations.” - Confucius

The soft clink of cups rang out through the silence encompassing the gazebo. The King drank from the white porcelain, watching as Dojin turned to sip from his own cup. After they finished, the two men set their cups back on the table and continued to remain silent. Beams of moonlight filtered in through the space and the King took a moment to simply bask in the serene atmosphere. There was no need to rush this conversation, but it was a talk that needed to be had.

Like the faithful servant he was, Dojin remained silent until the King decided it was time to break said silence.

Sighing, he reached his hand to grasp the handle of the liquor jar but was halted when Dojin grasped the neck of the bottle first. 

“Allow your servant the honor, Your Majesty,” came his former bodyguard’s baritone voice as he lifted the bottle off the table, “and please allow your servant to inquire as to what is weighing on your mind.”

The clear liquor filled the small cup. Dojin poured himself a drink and waited for the King to drink first. Instead of drinking, he merely set the cup back down on the table while pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It had been a long and taxing week. Between dealing with his officials in court and the looming threat from Japan ever on the horizon, the King was fighting the urge to sleep more and more. He had so many edicts to place his seal over and he felt he had so little time to prepare. The sorceress, Kalina, predicted that a harsh famine would hit his country in the coming years. If she followed his instructions to the letter, the people of Joseon would not starve.

Despite all of these problems, the biggest concern sitting at the forefront of his mind was the well-being of his son.

“How is he doing these days, Dojin-ah?”

He watched a wistful smile form on the other man’s face. “He is very intelligent, Your Majesty. And strong.”

The King quipped a curious brow. “You have trained him in martial arts?”

Dojin nodded. “Since he was a young boy, Your Majesty.” His smile widened a bit further. “Soon the master will be forced to yield to the student.” 

The affection that radiated from Dojin’s words showcased the amount of love his former attendant had for the prince. If the King could, he would have wanted nothing more than to spare him from the life of a commoner. He was meant to live in luxury and comfort, able to study anything he wished to learn. He could have even become a scholar if he desired. Living a hard mountain life wasn’t supposed to be his destiny.

But what could he do? The law would not let him live in the palace and his Queen could not bear to see his innocent life taken from him in such an unfair manner. With the Noble Factions breathing down his neck, sowing seeds of corruption in the court, it left the King with his hands tied. The less of a foothold he was able to give them, the safer his throne would be. He did not wish to be a monarch that governed through fear and bloodshed. 

The dark ages of his grandfather’s rule was over. It was up to him to maintain balance and keep the peace.

Why hadn’t he asked Dojin about his son’s educational progress until now?

The King lifted his cup from the table. “Has he shown any interest in marriage yet?”

“No, Your Majesty.” He could see apprehension reflected in Dojin’s eyes. He gestured with his cup for him to continue. “There is one person he likes, but I’m sure Your Majesty would not approve of their union.”

“But you do?”

Dojin lowered his head quickly. “N-No, Your Majesty!”

The King bit back a smirk. It was so easy to tease his former bodyguard, even now. Raising the prince up as well as he had, what right did the King have to complain about Dojin’s parenting methods? There was sincerity in his words and the King had no reason to doubt his attendant.

“Is she a good woman?” he asked, sipping from his cup and savoring the sweet taste of the alcohol. 

“She is, My King. But she is also a dangerous woman.” Dojin lifted his face slowly. “I worry over the sort of influence she has over the prince.”

Frowning, he abstained from speaking right away. The King could only think of one person who was both a good woman and a dangerous woman. If that were true, then this was something the King would, indeed, need to concern himself with. Kalina was a woman who possessed much power and she didn’t age in all the years he’d known her. Ever since she first came to Joseon, when he’d been heralded as the Crown Prince, he believed there was a reason for her arrival. It became even more apparent when she continued to help him advise from the shadows. Since the impending famine was looming ever closer, he valued her council above the others in his court.

She was a woman shrouded in mystery and intrigue. No fool could ignore her when she passed on the streets, purchasing odds and ins for her own personal reasons. But that also bred a level of mistrust and hatred of her arrival. Even the King was not privy to the true source of her power, or her origins.

Troubling still? The Crown Prince was tangled in her orbit as well.

The King set his cup down and sighed. “Would you have me banish her from the kingdom? Even though she’s done nothing but aid in the country’s development?”

“I would never, Your Majesty!”

“The Crown Prince is fond of her as well.” Dojin’s eyes appeared to tremble in the moonlight. The King’s brows furrowed. “Do you still think she should be allowed to stay?”

“Y-Your Majesty…” The warrior leaned back, averting his gaze. There was nothing else to be said. The King knew this and he knew that Dojin did as well.

“The heavens will decide what becomes of their fates, Dojin-ah.” Craning his neck, the King peered up at the moon, basking in the silence for a little bit longer. “It is not our place to intervene, no matter how much we may want to.”

“HA!”

Sweat fell in rivulets down Yoongi’s neck and back with each swing of the wooden sword. Calluses and blisters bubbled in his palms, his fingers screaming from pain. But even so, Yoongi continued to swing. It was the only thing he could do to keep his erratic emotions tethered to the ground. The only thing keeping him from running to Kali’s home and begging her to run away with him. 

If they left the country and traveled to some faraway land where no one knew their names or faces, wouldn’t they be happy? Couldn’t they forget the rest of the world? They could be happy, couldn’t they?

The more logical and reasonable parts of Yoongi’s mind knew that this was impossible. Kali was a sorceress. She was also a woman who didn’t age. Having children or sharing a life with someone was impossible for her and, as such, it was her own curse that she carried on her shoulders. In time, Yoongi would grow old and she would remain unchanged. He would force her to suffer through a different type of agony - the pain of watching him fade away from the world as she was left behind; youthful and untouched.

Yoongi swung the sword across his body, his heart thundering against his chest and ribs. His breath came out in harsh intervals. San was sprawled out across a rock, his head moving back and forth with the sword’s movements. But he didn’t move or fuss at being ignored. It was like the wolf could sense that something was emotionally off-kilter with his master.

“Yoongi-ah!”

San suddenly stood on all fours, his head turning in the direction of where the voice was coming from. At first, his ears flattened along his skull - hackles raising and tail puffing up in response. San’s lips curled back to reveal teeth, but he made no noise. Yoongi paused to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. 

“Yoongi Hyung-nim!”

Smiling, he reached out to stroke San’s back to soothe the wolf’s aggression. He immediately relaxed, barking and leaping from the rock to tear off toward the woods. Jogging after him, Yoongi quickly followed, exiting the forest in minutes and seeing two people lingering around the house. One of them was a young man with a shallow beard and top knot, a bamboo fishing rod draped over his shoulder. The other was even younger, his long hair pulled back into a high ponytail. The two of them were bickering, but stopped immediately when they saw Yoongi approach.

“Hyung-nim!’ called the younger one, waving his arm back and forth in excitement.

Yoongi rolled his eyes as San barked and ran circles around them. “Jungkook-ah. Seokjin Hyung-nim.”

Seokjin held out two large fish tied to a hemp rope. “Brought you a present.”

He eyed it suspiciously. “Both of them?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t they both be yours?” Seokjin flashed a knowing grin as he scratched at his beard.

“No.” 

Yoongi brushed past them both and started making his way into the house to retrieve the bucket. The two of them followed him inside, griping between each other and yelling for him at the same time.

“What are you saying no for?” Seokjin’s tone was clearly put out. 

Grasping the hemp rope, Yoongi lifted the large bucket and knocked them both out of his path. “To whatever you’re about to ask me to do.”

“Hyung-nim! Don’t be like that!” Jungkook called after him. 

“The answer is no~,” Yoongi sing-songed as he draped his sword over his shoulder, the bucket swinging off the end. San was immediately at his side, craning his head every so often to peek back at the other two who were in hot pursuit.

“Yoongi-ah, come on,” he heard Seokjin whine behind him, “at least hear me out, will you?”

Pausing in his steps, he pivoted on his back heel and whipped around to glare at his two friends. “Is it worth getting flogged by my father over?”

Both Jungkook and Seokjin looked at each other, then their gazes shifted toward the ground. The fact that they weren’t immediately answering meant that there was a good chance that whatever they were asking would get him caned so hard, he wouldn’t be able to walk right for at least two days.

Sighing, he placed a hand on his hip. “What is it you want me to do?”

Again, they didn’t answer right away. Ultimately, they didn’t want to get him into trouble. Yoongi knew this. They were residents of the village, but were the first friends he made when he was a child. In a sense, they were like brothers. But he also knew what kind of mischief they liked to get into. There was no such thing as a free lunch. Seokjin bringing two large trout to his doorstep only meant one thing.

They needed Yoongi’s help with something. That something would most likely get him in trouble with his father. He was not about to tempt fate while his father was away.

“Well?” he snapped, causing both of their shoulders to jump. “Out with it.”

“It’s Namjoon Hyung,” murmured Jungkook finally. He fidgeted with his bangs, still avoiding Yoongi’s gaze. “He sprained his ankle during practice.”

Yoongi bit back another irritated sigh. Instead, he waved with his hand for him to continue. 

Seokjin cleared his throat loudly, stepping in when it seemed Jungkook was losing his voice. “Do you think you could fill in for him in the troupe?”

He could feel his lip curling into a slight snarl. “Come again?”

Clapping his hands, he rubbed his palms together in a pleading gesture. “They were asked by the magistrate to perform for the Crown Prince as a form of entertainment to celebrate his journey to Ming! If they get acknowledged, they’ll be able to perform in the Crown City regularly!” 

Jungkook stepped forward, clasping his own hands together. “Please, Hyung-nim? It’s not like the troupe are strangers to you! They could really use your help!”

Yoongi dropped the bucket at his feet and San skittered away from it. His two friends swallowed the lumps in their throat as he advanced on them. “Do you realize what you’re asking me right now?” He swung his wooden sword around, pointing the tip of it at them. “My father is currently at the Capital. If he finds out, I’ll be lucky to see the morning after!”

Seokjin quickly ran up to him, clasping his wrist so that Yoongi was forced to lower his sword. “That’s alright! The others know how strict your lifestyle is and everything will be fine!”

He scoffed. “Oh yeah? How?”

Jungkook ran to his other side, placing both hands on one shoulder. “You’ll be wearing a mask! No one will know what you look like during the performance.”

“What about rehearsal?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at both of them. “Won’t they see my face during rehearsals?”

“They’re planning to rehearse in the large field just outside of the Crown City!” His whole body shifted when Seokjin clapped his hand against his back, causing him to cough slightly. “It’ll be fine! I promise!”

Yoongi hung his head in defeat. Truthfully, he had no real reason to deny the request. The members of the performance troupe were his friends as well. Mostly in part to Seokjin and Jungkook introducing them to him. He’d been feeling a little ill while his father was away a few Winters back and they came to cheer him up by performing tricks and acrobatics in the freezing snow. Yoongi wanted to believe that part of his healing process stemmed from them coming to bring a smile to his face.

Brushing his fingers through his cropped hair, he tugged at the fringe until a soft stinging sensation pulled at his roots. This was a pretty big risk he was about to take. On one hand, he would be in very big trouble with his father if he got caught. There was a good chance that he wouldn’t be able to leave to visit the small village at the foot of the mountain for several months. His martial arts training would be literal torture. 

On the other hand, he would be helping his friends out and he would also get to see the Crown City, a place he’d always longed to visit. 

Releasing his hair, he lowered his hand to his face to bite at his thumbnail. If I’m wearing a mask, it should be fine. Even if I run into Father, he’ll never recognize me with my face covered. He gave his two friends sidelong glances, roughly dropping his hand at his side. I’ll probably never get another chance like this again…

Yoongi shook his head, a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Get the horses ready. I’ll meet you down at the village.” 

Seokjin and Jungkook jumped into the air, yelling with excitement. They both rambled at once, speeding off with the promise to have traveling gear ready by the time he made it down the mountain. San barked after them, his tail wagging happily as they disappeared through the forest. Groaning, he motioned for the wolf to follow him.

“I need to bathe and get you some food ready.” Yoongi picked up the bucket, gripping his training sword in the other hand. “You’ll have to stay here, San. If you’re with me, Father will discover me immediately.” 

The wolf seemed to understand his words, his ears folding back slightly as he whined. Squatting down, he pet San between his ears and the wolf licked his wrist in response. 

“I know, I know. It can’t be helped.” He smiled. “Besides, who knows how the citizens in the city will react when they see a wild wolf roaming through the streets. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

San stepped forward, licking Yoongi’s cheek. He felt a small measure of relief when he saw the wolf wagging its tail. Now that he thought about it, this would be the first time in four years that he wouldn’t have San at his side. 

“I’ll see if Kali-ssi can check on you tomorrow.” Bringing San close, he hugged his neck and nuzzled his face into his fur. “Don’t worry, you fool. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”