#as someone who's studied comparative religion it's just *big sigh*

[nicklloydnow]

“Trying to explain what makes Blood Meridian a masterpiece is like trying to describe Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 using only semaphore – you’re really best just finding out for yourself. That might not be the easiest task given how daunting Blood Meridian can appear (especially for those unfamiliar with McCarthy’s refined, almost biblical, prose that shuns most punctuation), but those willing to persevere will find a powerful tale comparable to the epics of Shakespeare and Melville. The novel tells the story of an unnamed runaway (referred to only as "the kid") who joins a group of scalp hunters operating on the United States-Mexico border during the 1840s. While they initially do this for just reasons – protecting the local communities from pillaging Apache tribes – this soon gives way to bloodthirsty and fatalistic behavior that leaves a trail of bodies in their wake, heroes and villains alike. McCarthy utilizes their nihilistic crusade to explore a range of topics including religion, warfare, and the nature of man – all told via some of the most poetic writing ever committed to the page.

(…)

But despite these issues, Hollywood has shown an almost psychotic interest in adapting Blood Meridian. And despite these issues, it’s easy to see why. The high esteem that both Blood Meridian and Cormac McCarthy are held in would inevitably make it one of the most talked about films of the year, and were a director able to find that illusive sweet spot that translated its horrific beauty into the language of cinema, there’s no reason why it couldn’t be one of the most acclaimed too. The phenomenal success of No Country for Old Men – the winner of four Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director, and now revered as one of the 21st century’s greatest films – will only have spurred on this insatiable desire. Unmade screenplays are reportedly so common in L.A. they could wallpaper every house in Pasadena, and their continued existence appears to have turned Blood Meridian into a sinister rite of passage for any aspiring screenwriter. We’ll never know for certain how many times Hollywood has tried (and failed) to make Blood Meridian, but a few have since come to light.

(…)

Indeed, it was this exact problem that killed most potential adaptations, such as a version spearheaded by Ridley Scott in the mid-2000s. Alongside his Kingdom of Heaven scribe William Monahan, Scott – never a director who had much time for compromise – intended to go all in with the novel’s violence, resulting in a gore-heavy rendition that sounds more akin to a horror film than a revisionist western. “It would have been rated double-X”, he later described it as – a statement that wouldn’t have brought confidence to already nervy investors. Scott did satisfy his McCarthy itch with 2013’s The Counselor (his only original screenplay to also get the feature-film treatment), a wordy and often bewildering watch that feels closer to an audiobook than a truly cinematic experience. Its mixed reception had McCarthy scholars breathing a sigh of relief that he was never able to make Blood Meridian, but considering how Kingdom of Heaven also mixed historical fact and speculative fiction to craft a nuanced character study amidst the backdrop of harrowing warfare, perhaps he would have been the ideal choice.

(…)

But then again, what does that term even mean? If “unfilmable” novels like Dune, Life of Pi, and Cloud Atlas can leap between mediums, why couldn’t the same also be done with Blood Meridian? McCarthy himself has rejected the idea that his opus is destined to remain on the page forever, admitting that while it would be “very difficult to do”, there’s no reason why someone “with a bountiful imagination and a lot of balls” couldn’t get it done. The simple truth is that Blood Meridian isn’t unfilmable, it’s just that everything that makes it a masterwork are so firmly entrenched in the written form that it would require substantial alternations to work in a new format, and it would take a brave filmmaker to start tinkering with the foundations of a certified classic. It’s inevitable that someone, someday, will make this dream a reality, at which point the internet can move on from debating if Blood Meridian is unfilmable to whether Blood Meridian should only ever be a novel. Until that day, we’ll have to tide ourselves in wild speculations. It’s not like we’re short on options.”

[halcyonstorm]

The Girl at the Library Chapter 1

Short Fic - Levihan

Themes: College AU, Library, Fluff, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Female Hange Zoe, Student!Levi

Word Count: 5730

Chapter: 1/3

Warning: Mild Language

Read on Ao3 - The Girl at the Library

Summary: Levi is a college student who needs help on his research paper. Luckily, Hange is a book worm and works at the library. 

Levi was stressed and annoyed, mainly because he was in college. Of course with college comes infinite amounts of homework assignments, 100-question exams with astronomical amounts of topics on them, unnecessary research papers, and staying in a dorm room with a kid that happens to have no problem inviting his friends over every night to hang out and party with no regards to his sullen roommate.

Levi had a paper coming up. He had to come up with a topic, find sources, and finish his paper by the end of the semester. With three weeks left to go, he decided he’d rather get it over with. He began his brainstorming in the study lounge at the center of his dormitory floor. He was starting to stress. He sat on the big yellow leather couch in the way-too-bright study lounge with his laptop in his lap. He tapped his pen against his head as he tried to think of an idea. 

“You have to write about a topic related to your major,” The professor explained. “This is the one and only paper you will have assigned this semester. I suggest you get it done as early as possible.”

If only it were that easy. He had the rubric pulled up in one tab, and a ton of “How to pick a research topic” websites in others. His major was pharmaceuticals, a field he was inspired to take on because of his mother. She was very ill when he was very young, so they were in and out of hospitals. He was sitting on the edge of his mother’s hospital bed when a nurse came in the room to administer her medications. 

“This is…” His memory was blurry. “This medication will help… and make you feel better.” And it did. 9 year old Levi was fascinated. This one little pill or bag of what looked like water helped his mother feel better. Within hours, his mother’s skin went from pallor to beige. Her hands were warmer. She looked more awake, more alive. She didn’t wince at Levi’s touch. She was in less pain. She got better, like the nurse predicted.

Since then, Levi always asked questions whenever they visited the hospitals again and again. “What kind of drug is that?” “What does it do?” “How long does it take to take effect?”

Levi recalled the memory with a deep sigh. He missed his mother. She was at home, not too far away. Levi never had the time to travel the hour through the big city to visit her. When he did have free time, he spent it studying or sleeping. He felt his heart twinge at this. She had sacrificed everything to help him attend college and to give him a good life.

Now with his head cloudy, he went to reach his water bottle in his backpack. He opened the lid and took a sip. At that moment, he could hear some obnoxiously loud students throwing tennis balls back and forth to each other. He recognized these kids too, they were some (of many) of the lovely visitors his roommate had over most nights. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, Levi’s water bottle spilled all over his laptop, a tennis ball on the floor next to him, and some worried voices approaching him. Within seconds, the laptop started to steam and the screen went black.

His laptop was fried, he determined. He felt heat start to rise inside of him. 

“Oh my god, man. I am so sorry,” One of the kids said, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Yeah, man. We didn’t mean to.”

Levi took a deep breath and stood up. These kids… were gonna pay.

He closed his broken laptop and stood up. These kids were much taller than him, but looked to be easily intimidated by Levi’s presence. 

“Do you have the money to pay for this?” He sneered, getting very close to their faces. 

“Eh… no, but we have jobs! We can pay you back over time,” One of the kids trailed off. They seemed to be intimidated by the short man. “You live in 112 right?”

Levi nodded, his face heating up with anger. “This laptop cost me a lot of money.”

“We get it, man! We said we’re sorry,” the other kid explained. “We’ll pay you back or whatever.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked. He was extremely pissed. These kids should not be throwing balls at each other in the hallway. Also, they spilled his water which made a mess. “Which room are you both in?” They responded with 118. The one kid explained they get paid on the 15th and 30th of each month. Luckily, their pay day was 4 days away.

“I’ll stop by Tuesday, the 16th,” Levi decided, before gathering his things and heading to the stairs. He began to walk through the campus. Fuck, now where was he gonna go? How was he gonna find his topics? His computer was fucked. Putting it in rice wouldn’t have helped. He was so occupied having a debate with himself about where to research, he almost missed it. If he looked the other way or even blinked in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen it. It was the campus library. No, not the campus library, but a campus library. It blended into the surroundings, hidden from the passerbyers. There was a sign in the window “We’re Open!”. 

The library was small, to say the least. It was old fashioned, which contrasted the modern aesthetic of the university. It was a small, dark brown, wooden building with four-pane windows. The door was a lighter shade of brown. He decided it was easier to check out this little library instead of walking another 10 minutes to get to the main library. He didn’t have time to waste. He had to get started with his paper right away. He walked up to the door and opened it. When he did, a little bell rang at the doorway. 

“Just a minute!” A woman’s voice called from the back. Levi decided to wander around. There were many books crammed on the shelves. There were two computers on each side when he walked in. They looked out of place, considering they were very modern compared to the architecture of the library itself. The books were all shades of bright, vibrant colors. It was strange. From the outside, it seemed creepy and gloomy. Once he walked in, it was very cozy. The dark walls of the library contrasted the beautiful colors of the books.

Then, he saw the woman come out. She came up to the desk. He expected an elderly lady with her glasses on a chain, but he assumed this woman was a student. She was a young woman who wore thin oval glasses and her brown hair thrown up in a messy half-up-half-down ponytail. 

“Hi!” The woman said. “How can I help you?”

“I want to use a computer, please,” He announced. He glanced at her nametag which hung like a necklace around her neck. “Hange” was the name on the tag. It was strange and unordinary, but it had a nice ring to it. The name seemed to suit her.

“Sure! You are allowed up to two hours a day,” Hange explains. “You can choose whichever computer you’d like.”

The computers were unoccupied. In fact, the entire library seemed vacant except for him and the employee. 

“Does anyone actually come here?” Levi asked, setting his stuff down next to a desk, and looking her way. She looked like someone who would work at a library. 

The brunette chuckled. “You are my third visitor today!” She exclaimed proudly. It was already about 3pm. He remembered the sign in the front says “12pm-6pm weekdays”. 

Levi chuckled silently, air huffed out his nose. “How do you stay in business?”

“Well, the university thinks it’s good to have a small library in the outskirts of the campus so students have access to books and computers because the main campus library is in the center of the plaza. Sometimes we get about ten people a day, and sometimes they don’t even take anything out. Sometimes I wonder how…” She began to ramble now. She definitely has not had anyone else visit her today.

She was starting to get on his nerves. It’s been 20 minutes since he arrived, and she was still talking. He zoned out until she caught his attention.

“Hey,” She said. “What’s your name? I have to track whoever comes in to use the computers.” 

Why? No one else comes in. He noticed her clipboard with the sign-ins was blank.

“Levi Ackerman,” He announced. She scribbled his name down. “Okay, it’s 3:30 now, so you have till 5:30 if needed.” She pointed to the clock with her pen as she explained. He nodded and proceeded to walk towards the table with the computer he claimed. He sat down and began working.

-

He was an hour into his research when he finally threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He still couldn’t think of a topic. He groaned aloud.

Hange was leaning against the main desk, her nose stuck in a book. “How Trees Communicate” was the title. When she heard the young man groan, she looked up. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, peering over her book at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled. “Fine…”

Hange raised an eyebrow. She placed her bookmark at her spot, then strolled around the desk and walked over to him.

“What are you working on?” She asked, sitting in the seat next to him and put her hands on her knees, looking at him curiously. He scoffs. It was none of her business, he thought to himself. And it’s an invasion of privacy.

He was frustrated and desperate. Hoping for a miracle, he managed to tell her anyways.

 “I need a topic for my paper and I can’t think of any…” Levi began. “It needs to be based on pharmaceuticals, my major. It also needs scientific evidence to back up my research…”

She was fully absorbed in what he had to say. She was bored, so helping Levi would’ve been something to do at least. Besides, Levi was in luck. She was an avid reader, always reading about anything and everything. She was studying plants and botanicals, but she found herself frequently taking out books about cooking; religion; war; animals; and medical topics including surgery, pathophysiology, anatomy, and pharmaceuticals.

“What about how diuretics affect blood pressure?” Hange suggested. Levi was taken aback. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head in confusion. “Or if anti-alzheimer drugs actually help slow the progression of Alzheimer’s? Why do you take different medications during certain stages of Alzheimer’s disease? Or how do anti-seizure medications work? That is something I ask myself all the time. You take this little pill and BOOM! You’ll be fine, no seizure! Oh, oh, oh! Or, how certain medications cause certain adverse effects? How come so many medications cause anxiety?” Her eyes started to light up as she talked. They were a dark brown, but when she started to talk, they seemed to morph to a captivating hazel. He felt he could see every color in her eyes. He saw brown and green and the little lines of her iris. Hange’s hands would move as she talked, and her smile grew wide. She couldn’t keep still. She was getting excited by coming up with all these ideas. She seemed so passionate and so willing to help; he was overwhelmed by her.

Levi was in shock. His day started off horrible. Now, he was almost glad his laptop was fucked. This woman was making his mind race with ideas. 

“Are you okay?” Hange asked for the second time within his visit there. Levi nodded slowly. “I am just… How do you know all that? Are you a med student?”

Hange chuckled and waved her hand at him. “No… I am a bookworm! Also, my mom is a nurse, so she used to teach me about nursing stuff all the time. Oh! You could write about the pathophysiology of anticholinergics! Or beta blockers! Or how the body reacts to the use of long-term steroids?”

Levi took a deep breath. He felt euphoric. He had been casually trying to think of topics since last week. All of a sudden, this woman can just ramble off hundreds of ideas? Levi smiled visibly.

“Actually… I really like the final topic you suggested. About steroids.” Levi admitted.

Hange smiled back at him. “Great! I can try to help you find some sources or books.” She directed him to open a new tab and to go to a certain database. “This is where you can find reliable sources. Over here,” She pointed to his screen at the left side. “You can add filters. You can change how old or new you’d like the sources to be, filter out certain words or phrases, et cetera.” She had been closer to him now; she scooted her chair closer so she could explain the database to him. It was hard not to look at her as she explained. She was captivating.

Levi began to type in words for his topic.

“Steroids”, “Long-term use”, “Cushing’s Disease”, “Addison’s Disease”, “Addisonian Crisis”, “Pathophysiology”.

He felt like he was finally getting somewhere. He was finally making progress.

-

As Levi was walking home, he couldn’t get his mind off that girl. He decided to brainstorm about his topic in his room once he got there. The thing was, though, he couldn’t think of any more ideas. He found it funny. Of course he was full of ideas and inspiration when he visited that library, but now he’s void of any.

-

Levi’s weekends were no different than the weekdays. He made it appoint to visit the library again the next day, Saturday. It was a sunny, cool Saturday morning. Levi had inspiration to write. He needed a computer and Hange’s ideas. When he arrived, it seemed busy. There were three other patrons at the library.  He recognized Hange right away, helping a tall blonde man with a big nose. He wondered if she was the only employee there. The man she was helping was taller than her, so she had to reach up on her toes to point to items. She was an average height, but this action made her seem shorter than she actually was.

Hange looked his way and greeted him with a toothy smile. Levi waved at her and started to head down one of the aisles of books. He was in the nonfiction section, but was lost. For now, he just casually browsed the section, but quickly got impatient. He needed Hange’s help to find books for this paper. He heard her laugh with the patron. Maybe he’s a friend, he thought to himself. Her laugh was airy and full of heart. It seemed genuine and passionate. Levi felt an urge to make her laugh, too.

She finally made her way over to him. Levi was looking down at a book when she caught his eye. “Hey, stranger!” She greeted him with a wave. “Whatcha looking for?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m trying to find some sources for my paper. Steroids is the topic,” Levi explained.

“Oh, right. I remember! After you left last night, I tried to look for some books for your topic,” She said. She was trying to help me? Levi thought to himself.

She curled her finger in a “follow me” gesture and he did. She brought him to another aisle or two over from where they were. “These are the 600’s, where you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. I found a book or two about Addison’s disease, but it’s more of a memoir. You can look around though if you’d like. Anything in the 610’s should be right up your alley.” She explained as if she was going to leave, but she didn’t. Hange looked for books with him. 

After a moment, she made a noise. “Look at this!” She exclaimed. She reached next to him to reach for a book. She was on her toes again. “Mmmm,” She moaned as she tried to reach. “Actually, I’m gonna get the step stool. I don’t think I can reach it.” Quickly, she left and came back with the stool. It looked unreliable, but Levi was sure he’d be able to prevent any accident from occurring. Hange placed it on the ground and stepped up on it, grabbing the book with ease. She stepped down with the book in her hand. This book had a white cover with a blue label and was titled “Coping with Prednisone”. Levi was surprised she even knew what prednisone was. 

“Here!” She reached it out for him to grab. He took it and looked at her face. She had that same look in her eyes. “Did you want to use the computer?” He nodded and she led him towards the front of the library. The library was small from the outside, but very deep inside. It reminded him of a forest. 

“I got your name, don’t worry,” She said, clicking her pen and writing his name down on the sheet. 

“Oops!” Hange made a quick grimace. “I added an ‘e’ at the end. I’ll just cross it out.” The statement sounded like it was addressed to herself rather than to anyone else. She crossed out the extra letter.

“Ackermane”. Levi was gonna attempt to make her laugh.

“If you thought I looked like a horse you could’ve just said so.” 

Mane, horse mane. Get it?

It felt like forever before Hange responded. She looked up at him, starting to laugh. It was a short but audible laugh. Her head nodded back and she smiled. Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes lit up for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat. It was a bad joke yet she still laughed. She chuckled. Giggled? No. Laughed lightly. Chortled? Maybe that’s the right word. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it more, maybe even more than that.

He followed her to the computers. The blonde guy she was helping earlier was on one computer. She led him to the two computers across from the other ones and sat down in the chair next to him.

“What are you doing?” Levi asked, placing the book she found for him on the table.

Her eyebrows raised, and after a moment she reacted. She waved her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry! I thought you may have needed help. I should get back to work anyway. I gotta go through a new box of books that just came in.”

Levi looked up at her. Is she blushing? he asked himself.

“I’ll let you know if I need help.” Levi responded. She smiled at him before quickly walking away.

-

He started to find some evidence-based practice articles about how steroids can cause long-term side effects, especially if stopped abruptly. He made sure to keep the tabs available. He’d have to cite them later. Levi’s mind was racing with words and sentences and ideas. He had to get them down on paper. He opened Documents on the computer and started typing away.

The clicking of the keyboard soothed him. He was a pretty fast typer, he didn’t make many mistakes either. The library around him began to become quiet as his typing got louder and he got deeper in thought. Before he knew it, his two hours were up. He felt someone approach him from his right.

“Hey,” Hange said, gently tapping the table next to him. “It’s 2pm. I gotta close up.”

Levi snapped out of his focused trance with a quick head shake. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled out a flash drive from his backpack and plugged it into the computer. He transferred his document. “I got the first page done.”

Levi asked himself for a brief moment why he was sharing this information with someone he just met. Maybe since she helped him, he felt she should know.

“That’s great! It seemed like you were really focused,” Hange said, walking away to shut off some lights. Only then did he notice the white noise of the overhead lights quickly dissipate. The room buzzed with silence now. Levi and Hange were alone in the library. Suddenly, Levi felt nervous. He watched Hange walk around the room frantically, making sure to shut off all the lights and computers. She grabbed a bag. The bag was a fabric material with a patchwork design that had a long strap that hung on on her shoulder. Maybe she made it herself. She grabbed her big mess of keys and walked towards him.

“Ready?” She said. He nodded and walked outside, holding the door for her. She thanked him, locking the door behind her. They began to walk down the street slowly. 

“Want to grab lunch?” Hange asked, looking at him. Levi looked back at her. She looked pretty.

“Sure, I can eat.” Hange chuckled at that. He didn’t try, but it made her happy for a brief moment. He seemed nervous but she was too.

They decided to eat at a cute restaurant on campus called “Life in Paradis”. It was a small, dainty place with a green and yellow checkered awning. The building was made of yellow brick, and the door was bright green. There were flower pots outside on the windowsill. Again, this place seemed totally out of place in the modern aesthetic of the university. 

“This place is adorable!” Hange exclaimed. “I love the food here. You’ll love it too. They have all kinds of food here.” Levi felt a smile grow on his face. The way she talked made his heart flutter. She was always so passionate. They entered and got a table for two. This is not a date, Levi kept telling himself. Then why were his cheeks red?

They sat down and looked through a menu. Levi wasn’t extremely hungry even though he hadn’t had anything but tea this morning. He peered over his menu to look at the girl. Her hair was different today, he determined. Today all her hair was in a ponytail, and it was higher on her head. She wore a light yellow button-down with a long, light blue cardigan. Hange caught him staring at her and blushed.

“What would you two like to order?” The waitress asked him first.

“I’m gonna get a sandwich, I think,” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Turkey sub.” “I think I’m gonna get a chicken caesar salad,” Hange said. He nodded, grabbed the menus, and walked away.

Hange began to talk about how beautiful the flowers outside the restaurant were. They were all variants of pink, purple, yellow, and red. She described the petals and the leaves, the flowers’ origins, and all the meanings of the flowers. Levi wasn’t annoyed by her tangent this time. He actively listened to this girl talk about what fascinated her so much. He found it soothing. It made him wonder how her brain can contain all the information she was spewing at him. He enjoyed watching the way her eyes lit up when she talked. The beautiful green that blossomed at the bottom of her irises when the light hit her eyes at the right angle. The way her lips curled into a big smile when she talked to him. Her cheeks flush to a light pink when she describes the petals of the flowers or how flowers were used to express feelings when words cannot. It made his heart race. 

“Levi,” Hange said. Her affect was the opposite of earlier when she was rambling. She wore a frown on her face, feeling guilty.“I’ve been rambling… sorry. It’s such a bad habit of mine. I can talk for hours and hours.”

“Don’t apologize, four-eyes,” Levi replied, leaning his elbows and forearms on the table in a crossed position. Hange smiled at him. Levi meant it. She shouldn’t apologize for talking, especially if it’s about something she loves. The food had arrived at the table. They ate. Levi felt the need to open up to her about something. He already learned so much about her, and her presence made him feel like he can open up. 

“I like to run,” Levi said abruptly. Hange looked at him intently, chewing on a forkful of salad. “I don’t do it competitively or anything, but I enjoy running. I try to run once or twice a day.” Hange’s eyebrows raised and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s awesome!” She smiled again at him. “I like to run too. I’m really slow and get tired easily, but I enjoy feeling the wind in my hair and feeling my heart pound.” She took a bite of her meal again. Levi nodded and began to eat too. This sandwich was really good.

-

After talking some more about hobbies and school, they both finished their meal. The waiter brought over the check. Hange reached into her pocket for her wallet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levi asked. Hange furrowed her brows.

“I invited you out to lunch. I will pay,” Hange determined, her wallet now in her hands.

“No,” Levi said too quickly. “I will pay. It’s the least I can do. You helped me with my paper after all.”

The bickering lasted a very long minute. Before she got to think of the idea, Levi grabbed the checkbook and shoved his card inside before handing it to the waiter. Hange looked surprised. She sighed, putting her wallet away.

“Thank you, Levi. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

In all honesty, Hange didn’t have much money. She worked at that library four times a week, but the money she made went towards paying off her tuition. She really wanted to treat this man, her new friend. She wasn’t sure if he thought the same way about her. Did he consider her his friend? She felt slightly embarrassed. She did most of the talking and felt like she was annoying him. Maybe he just wanted to pay so she would lay off. 

But the truth is, Levi felt the opposite way of how she was thinking. He was interested to hear more from her. He was addicted to the way his heart raced when he saw her. 

-

Over the next couple of days, Levi would go to that library whenever he was available. He knew it was closed on Sunday, so he went Monday and Tuesday to the library. Fortunately, he got his first batch of money from the brats that fried his computer. He received $100. Of course it was not enough, but it was a start. Wednesday the 17th came around. This specific day was a wild card. The weather was unpredictable. Levi entered the library just in time; it had started to downpour. The little bell rang as he entered the library. To his surprise, Hange was not working that day. There was a boy behind the counter who was tall and had a brown bowl cut hairstyle.  He almost thought about turning around and leaving when he realized she wasn’t there. The rain charged towards the earth viciously, so he decided to seek shelter in the small library. It almost looked like a hurricane. He felt his mood change into a bad one. He didn’t remember to ask how often she worked. 

“Hi there!” The man said. His name tag read “Moblit”. That’s a dumb name.

“I wanna use a computer,” Levi muttered, walking up to the main desk.

“Okay. Name?” Moblit grabbed the clipboard and a pen.

“Levi Ackerman.”

“Oh, I see you’ve been here before. A lot, actually.” Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes at his comment. He turned around, picked a computer, and sat down. He felt really stupid to not ask her about her schedule.

The two hours he spent working on his paper was incredibly slow. He didn’t get much done that day. He had writer’s block. He was almost done, so he didn’t worry about it too much. He didn’t know Hange’s schedule. He knew she worked Friday, the day they met; Saturday; Monday, and Tuesday. Maybe she only worked four times a week? Before he knew it, he asked Moblit aloud. It was almost an accident.

“Uh, she’ll be in on Friday,” Moblit replied. He probably couldn’t give out that information to some creep who began visiting daily with an attitude. He muttered a “thanks” before finishing up and heading out. The weather was holding up for now, so he decided to make a run for it. He didn’t say goodbye to Moblit.

He didn’t have an umbrella. The sun was trying to shine through the dark, eerie clouds. It wasn’t trying hard enough. He heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

Levi realized that this girl was all he thought about the past few days. Something about her enticed him. Something about her eyes and her presence drew him towards her. His heart skipped a beat whenever she’d graze his hand on accident, or even when she just talked to him. She made him happy. He hadn’t had too many friends in college. Although they just met last week, he felt a deep connection with her. 

Suddenly, the sun poked through the clouds for a brief moment. The world lit up. It was at that moment he recognized a familiar face. Hange. She was walking towards him. She grinned when she saw him. She wore a fitted black t-shirt and baggy, light blue jeans. 

“Levi!” She exclaimed. “I forgot my jacket in the library, so I came down to get it.” 

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t working today.” Is all Levi said. Once he said it, he realized how creepy it must’ve sounded. A man she just met happens to go to this library to work on his project every day, who happens to come up with multiple reasons to interact with her. Maybe she thought he was a perv.

“Ehh!” She sighed. “I’m sorry! I thought I told you I was off today.” Levi shook his head. The comment itself may have sounded rude, but it wasn’t. She genuinely felt bad. “Walk with me.” Levi followed. Guess not.

“I don’t work Wednesday’s and Thursday’s. Well I’m not supposed to be,” Hange explained. “Mobilt, one of my co-workers, is always calling out sick. So I basically run the place.” They walked towards the library again and entered. 

“Hey, Moblit. How’s it going?” Hange said in a normal tone, heading towards the back of the library. Moblit responded briefly, following Hange. Levi decided to hang back, he figured it was a secure area. He looked around awkwardly.

“Hange, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Moblit said, following her towards the back. 

Hange chuckled nervously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said bluntly. “He’s just a friend.” Moblit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If he’s not your boyfriend, how come his mood entirely changed once he saw you?”

Hange found her jacket, folding it over her forearm. “Huh?”

“He was, like, in a bad mood when he came in. He used the computer but he seemed to be pissed or something. Now that he’s with you, he seems… tolerable.”

Hange laughed, feeling her cheeks blush. “It’s nothing like that. People have bad days, you know.”

Hange rolled her eyes and smirked, then headed towards the front of the library. “Ready?” Levi nodded and turned around.

“See you Friday,” Moblit called out. “See ya.” Hange replied.

The two started walking down the street. The air smelt of rain, and the ground was wet from the rain earlier. “Which building is your dorm in?” Hange asked. He was a bit surprised she asked him that, and she was so direct about it.

“Saint Maria,” He replied. She smiled. “Me too! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around!” The wind picked up and the sky turned darker than before. They both looked up. “If you can’t make it to the library, you can use my desktop in my dorm room,” Hange offered. Levi’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“Thanks, maybe tomorrow I can stop by,” Levi said. It was more of him thinking aloud than a statement. It was too late though, Hange already heard him. He could’ve sworn he didn’t say it aloud.

“That’s fine! I only have a class early tomorrow morning. Come by around 11, okay? My room number is 506.” Levi nodded. Thunder rolled and sounded closer now. They were almost at the dormitory building when it started to downpour. The rain was forcefully coming down on the two. Levi groaned in annoyance. He hated being in the rain. He hated being wet; he hated the wet socks and how gross he felt when it rained. He would’ve started to run to the building to seek cover, but he was taken aback by his new friend.

She was soaked and embracing it. She lifted her head up to face the sky and she laughed. It was loud, happy, genuine, and it took Levi’s breath away. Hange reached her hands out wide and spun around. He saw a strike of lightning light up the sky. He stared at her in awe. His heart swelled. Levi smiled big. After laughing, Hange looked at Levi and shared the look that he wore just a few moments ago. She loved his smile. She wished to make him smile more. She was also determined to make him laugh, too.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s take cover!” And she pulled him into the dormitory hall. Saint Maria’s hall was beautiful. It had ceiling-to-floor glass pane windows that were always crystal clear. There was a big black modern chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It contained visible light bulbs. Hange secretly loved it. There were the same big, yellow, leather couches in the living room as there were in the study area on his floor. They both wiped their feet off on the big rug in the entryway. 

“I love the rain,” Hange deduced, turning her head to look at him. As if Levi couldn’t tell. Her hand was still holding his. Levi looked up at her. “I like it, too.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hades and Persephone

Summary: Rachel works at her family’s bookstore where she’s surrounded by stories and myths all day. So what happens when Camden Town’s myth, Alfie Solomons, walks in. 

//Totally inspired by Hadestown, who am I even kidding? 

            The little bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Rachel was hidden behind a stack of books so she couldn’t see who was coming in the bookstore.

            “'Morning!” She called brightly so they knew the store wasn’t empty.

            Heavy footsteps walked across the creaky, uneven floorboards accompanied by the soft brief thud of a cane. Along with the footsteps was the clicking of toenails on the wood, the clanging of metal, and the distinct sound of a dog panting.

            “You allow dogs in here?” A gruff voice asked.

            “Oh, uh, sure.” Rachel rounded the front counter to greet the customer properly.

            Alfie Solomons was the myth of Camden Town. The bogeyman, the shadow in every alleyway. His reputation was menacing and nearly everyone in the community had a story about him.

            And yet, he didn’t quite look the part of a monster. He was a bit intimidating in the flesh, but he was just a man. A bit shorter than she anticipated, yet well-built and wearing simple clothing.  

            The dog beside him gave him a more humane look about him. The dog was big but had a kind eye to him and as he panted and slobbering, he appeared to be smiling.

            Rachel was a little frightened to talk to the man, even if he did appear less wicked in person. “I-that’s a very nice dog you have.”

            “Yeah, thank you. Name’s Cyril.” Alfie peered at the young woman. “You’re not usually here, are ya? Never seen you ‘fore.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the owner’s daughter, Rachel.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing.

            “Right, well your father gave me a book and it was utter shit,” Alfie replied.

            The comment made Rachel’s spine tingle in fear. Would a bad book warrant Alfie to do something in retaliation? Would he burn their store down? Kill her father?

            “I’m sorry I could refund you or-”

            “S’alright, love, just wanted something better.” He walked further into the bookstore, looking around the shelves of new and used books.

            “Oh.” She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Well, what do you like to read?”

            “I like good books.”

            Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, don’t we all?”

            He turned into one of the aisles to scour the bookshelves. Cyril followed obediently.

            “Do you like fiction?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Historical fiction?”

            “Sure.”

            “Well, we have new works. All Quiet on the Western Front. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

            “Hm.” He grunted, still browsing the shelves. “What’s that about then?”

            “The war if I’m not mistaken. Many people have enjoyed it, my father hasn’t been able to keep it in stock for very long but we just got some new copies.”

            “Nah, nothing like that.”

            There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and Rachel could only surmise that he was a veteran. “Further back then.”

            “Sure.” His heavy boots trailed through the store, studying titles on the spines of books.

            “I may have books on the royal family’s history.” She turned into the aisle only to see him disappear around the corner into the next one. Another grunt told her she was still heading in the wrong direction, so she put out a wildly different option. “Antiquity?”

            It seemed to pique his interest. “Anything good?”

            “Well, I’d only suggest good ones to you, I know you don’t like bad books.” She found him in the next row of books.

            He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, not anything too long, yeah. M’very busy.”

            “What about a collection of myths?” She offered; glad she was finally narrowing down what he was really looking for. “I find they can be enjoyable but not very tedious to read.”

            He turned to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “You sound very educated, anyone told ya that before?” He wondered.

            “Well, I…” She shrugged. “Figure growing up with an infinite number of books around me would teach me a thing or two.”

            He only grunted in response again. “Rare to find a very educated girl ‘round here. Your parents must not be very Orthodox, letting you get wild ideas from whatever book you can grab. Y’know there are some very scandalous books out there, love.”

            She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m aware, but every book has at least some little tidbit of information we can take away from.”

            “And what do you think I’m gonna take away from these myths you’re offering me, aye?”

            “The Greeks used gods to highlight man’s true nature in all its forms. Their gods were more relatable, better suited to explain how the world came to be, and how it works. So, I suppose it’s a commentary on mankind.”

            He seemed impressed with the way she spoke, his brows lifting. “Right, well I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

            “I suppose so.” Rachel turned so she could look through the store’s catalog and find the book.

            Alfie lingered by the front counter as she looked. He rested an arm on the counter and leaned over to see Rachel’s little setup. She had a cup of tea that was quickly cooling beyond consumption next to a book that had a ribbon in place as a bookmark. Curious, and a little neglectful of common courtesy sometimes, Alfie reached over the counter to pick up the book and see what it was.

            This Side of Paradise. By F. Scott Fitzgerald.

            Alfie read the dust cover with a frown.

            Rachel returned with the book and saw him examining the book she was in the middle of.

            “You like books ‘bout the war?” He asked, not looking up when she walked over.

            “I wouldn’t say I like them but there’s a lot to learn from them.” She said, a bit taken aback at how at home Alfie made himself with her things.

            “Yeah? Like what?” He turned the book over a few times before setting it back down next to the cup and saucer.

            “The-I apologize but were you in the war?” She asked hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was try and assert her opinion on the war when she was in the presence of a veteran, especially if the said veteran was a notorious gang leader.

            “I was a captain.” He made himself busy by looking around the rest of the shop, never meeting the shopkeeper’s daughter. “I wasn’t promoted by obedience or anything of the sort. I was promoted because I kept me men in line and I weren't dead. I don’t pretend to know why the fuck we were over there or what I gained from it. But that’s where I was for a number of years of me life.”

            Rachel wondered if he had always been the way he was before the war or if fighting had disillusioned him. Nevertheless, she was certain that in all the stories she’d heard of Alfie, she never once heard that he was a captain in the war. “I suppose I won’t know what you know but I learn what I can from books like this.”

            Alfie didn’t respond to that. “That for me?” He pointed to the book in her hand.

            “Oh, yes, this is what you might like. Although, please let me know if there’s something else you wanted me to suggest for the future.” She handed the collection to him and went behind the counter to ring up his order.

            “Right.” He examined the book like the one she had been reading, turning it over. “So your parents are Jewish then?”

            Rachel paused as she was writing up the invoice. She wasn’t sure what she had said that would warrant the topic of religion. “My mother is, but my father isn’t.” She explained.

            “Ah, another good Jewish woman snatched up by a Christian.” He tutted.

            “He doesn’t believe in God.” She shrugged. “It’s the one thing they never agreed on.”

            Alfie looked mildly amused. “And what about you? The half-theist, half-atheist?”

            “You said I sounded well-educated. But I don’t have spiritual answers.” She smiled slightly. It was a strange conversation to have with a customer but she was oddly enjoying it. Alfie kept her on her toes, it wasn’t some mind-melting boring conversation about popular books. He was intrusive with his questions but almost in a well-meaning way even if he came off a bit gruff.

            “Well, how about that.” He snorted. “I suppose books don’t have those sorta answers do they? Just scripture.”

            “I do find it interesting that you’re a spiritual man who is buying a book about a polytheistic culture.” She said, continuing with the invoice.

            “Well, figure you can read about it, right? Ain’t much of a sin if you know it’s utter garbage. It’s entertaining, innit?”

            “Hm.” She nodded. “Eighteen pence.” She handed him the receipt.

            Alfie dug into his coat to retrieve some coins. “What’s your favorite book, then?”

            “I don’t have one.” She took the amount from him and put it in the till.

            “Aye? Girl with infinite number of books at her disposal doesn’t have a favorite book?” He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

            “I don’t pick favorites. They’re all different so why compare them?”

            Alfie didn’t respond again. He looked down at the receipt. She had carefully written out his full name. He was certain that although she had given her name, he hadn’t returned the favor. “You know who I am then?”

            “Pardon?” Rachel shut the till closed.

            “Never mind.” He shook his head and pocketed the receipt.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

            Rachel was minding her own business on her balcony. She was tending to her flower boxes trying to keep the little flowers alive in the smoke of London. It was her quiet time before opening up the shop downstairs. But there was a certain someone who didn’t care about store hours.

            There was a sharp whistle from the streets below. “Oi!”

            Rachel turned with her watering can in hand. “Oh, Mr. Solomons, good morning.”

            “Gotta bone to pick with you, Miss Watkins!” He shook the book of myths towards her.

            Rachel was a bit amused, albeit terrified. She didn’t recall giving him her last name. But the way he stood there with a grumpy look on his face made her stifle a giggle. Cyril was beside him, as per usual, his tongue lolled out as he happily panted.

            “We open at nine, Mr. Solomons.”

            “Right, well I’ll make sure that our conversation is over before nine.”

            “Alright then.” She set her watering can down and ducked back inside. “I’ll just be a minute.” She called out the window before shutting it.

            “Rachel, who’s that shouting outside?” Her mother was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

            “Just a customer, mum, I’ll handle it.”

            “You don’t have to open for another hour.” She reminded her.

            “It’s alright.” Rachel assured her and went downstairs to the shop. Pulling out her keys, she opened the front door up. “Come on in.” She allowed Alfie and Cyril inside. “Was there something wrong with the book?” She asked.

            “Have you read the one about Hades ‘n Persephone?” He asked.

            “Yes, that’s a fairly popular one.” She agreed, not sure where he was heading with the conversation. But she allowed him to lead as if it were a dance.

            Alfie set the book down on the front counter. “S’bullshit, innit? I mean, what am I supposed to think ‘bout it, aye? Ain’t romantic, ain’t heroic. Just a right shame, innit?”

            “I mean…” Rachel shrugged. “It’s tragic. Lots of Greek stories are tragedies.”

            “But he lets her out for however many months, yeah, so what? I’m supposed to think he’s some sorta hero for letting her go then locking her back up again?”

            “Every piece of writing is supposed to elicit a reaction from the reader. I think this myth has done its job with you.” Rachel pointed out, not sure how else to placate him. She couldn’t exactly change a myth to suit his needs.

            Alfie snorted and rolled his eyes.

            “Do you sympathize with Hades or Persephone?” She went around the corner to tidy up a bit as they spoke.

            “Who could sympathize with Hades, aye? Fucking god of death, ain’t he? Not supposed to sympathize with men like that.”

            Men.  

            The use of the word men was very telling to Rachel. So, she probed deeper. “Hades isn’t the god of death really. He is the god of the dead and he’s the god of the underworld. The Greeks didn’t see him as evil, but they didn’t want to attract his attention either.”

            “So, what makes him evil was kidnaping a woman,” Alfie concluded.

            “Yes, but there was humanity in him. Didn’t you see that?”

            He scoffed and picked up the book to flip through it carelessly. “Ain’t seeing any humanity here.”

            She gently took the book from him and turned to the myth. “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, god, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. Be no so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods. Those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, shall be punished for evermore.” She read the passage.

            Alfie’s brow furrowed. “He still did what he did.”

            “Yes, but the Greeks were dramatic.” Rachel shut the book. “If you’d like me to find you another book…”

            “You knew who I was the first time we met.” He interrupted her with something that had been weighing on his mind.

            “Well-yes. I’d heard a lot about you. It’s nearly impossible not to hear anything when you live in Camden.” She shrugged.

            “You weren’t afraid of me though.”

            Rachel lost her train of thought when their eyes met. Before, he had been flitting about the store so she hadn’t been looking at him long enough. But now, well now she could see the ocean in his eyes. Just enough of the shop’s lights got under the wide brim of his black hat to reveal his true eye color. They were certainly green but there was a wave of blue running through them as well.

            He raised an eyebrow at her when she went completely silent on him.

            “Oh uh…no. I guess not. Why do you ask?”

            He just chuckled; a bit bewildered. “You’re braver than most men are, love.”

            “Should I be afraid of you?”

            “Well, s’pose I ain’t the god of death or the dead, or whatever you said.” He looked amused, almost like her blind bravery was funny. “Don’t make me a saint though.”

            “You’re only a man.” The words sounded foolish when Rachel heard them out loud, but Alfie seemed to enjoy her candor.

            “Fucking hell, you’re something else, ain’t ya? Must be that half-Jewish half-atheist in you.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

            “Maybe, Mr. Solomons.”

            “Yeah, well you can call me Alfie.” He said, suddenly becoming a little less intimidating than he usually was. He was certainly struck by the young woman. So much so that it threw him off balance.

            “Did you get the sense that Hades was lonely? The Greeks paid him no attention because they were so fearful of him. Perhaps he thought that if he found a woman to give him comfort, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t care if people were afraid of him. Now he didn’t go about it a good way, but maybe that’s why he did it.”

            Alfie cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket. She was getting right to the root of his being, passing through all his barriers and finding a nice cozy place in his heart. He was fucked. No one had ever gotten through to him so easily, if ever. “You get lonely all ‘round these books?”

            “Always,” Rachel admitted with a shy smile. “When I was younger I used to use books to escape but now I’ve learned that life is just too hard to escape when you’re older.”

            He fidgeted, scratching his cheek and messing with Cyril’s leash. “Yeah, I suppose I could understand that.”

            Rachel could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying. I get lonely too.

            “If-well I s’pose it would be nice to have someone to talk to ‘bout books. Can’t find enough people like that, now can you? So maybe I could stop by every so often, keep ya company.” He offered as if he was doing her a favor. When in reality he was being a bit selfish.

            She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

            “Right.” Alfie took the book of myths. “Well, I’ll finish this and let you know what I think, ‘bout the rest of them, aye?”

            “Alright.”

            Alfie gave her one last look before leading Cyril to the door, letting the bell jingle as they left.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​ @vampgirl1997​ @tarafaithe​

PB Masterlist

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @balder12 donated $20, and requested Sam/Kevin with hair play. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

Kevin feels he deserves a little better, than this. He doesn’t exactly—he wasn’t exactly used to booze, hadn’t ever really had a drink before he met the Winchesters that wasn’t the cherry schnapps his mom sometimes drank—and okay, so most of the time when he’s gotten drunk it’s been entirely on accident. But still. Whatever Dean drinks is some kind of weird dollar store swill (assuming they sell alcohol, at the dollar store, which to be fair he doesn’t know but he assumes that if they do then what Dean buys would be of that quality), and Kevin is a friggin Prophet of the friggin Lord, so if he’s going to be drinking then he should be drinking—he doesn’t know. Fine wines. Something laced with myrrh, whatever myrrh is. He was going to take Comparative Religions his first semester of college; he never got to find that out. He never got to go to college. Sam did.

Sam. That’s right. Kevin—he has a plan. He deserves better, he thinks. He’s been working on the tablet because that's his job, and he knows that he has a duty and he isn't going to shirk it. His mom had taught him better than that. Still, he thinks—as a Prophet—as a man, which he guesses he is—he shouldn’t just be… relegated to homework duty. Study session captain, providing all the notes. Even if the notes were triple-highlighted and with meticulous bullet points, and made sure that everyone in the group actually passed the exams. Or could take down heaven, or… whatever the hell the Winchesters have planned. He’s the brains behind the operation. He deserves a little something, for all the effort.

He’s pretty much finished the bottle Dean thought he’d hid. Kevin’s never had horse pee but he suspects that horse pee would be better. It’s a plastic jug, and it stings going down, but he needs some kind of courage and apparently the Winchesters are too cheap to keep myrrh-booze around. He finishes his cup and combs his hair, in front of the mirror in his room. His head feels like it’s bobbing at some long tether, past the end of where his neck should be. His lips feel numb. It’s kinda cool.

He doesn’t knock, at Sam’s room. When the door opens it’s dark and he bangs it into the wall. There’s a jolt, and in the light streaming in from the hallway he sees Sam twisted around, a gun in his hands, the blankets a mess. "What," Sam says, in that voice. Kevin smiles at him. Sam blinks. "Kevin. What?"

"Yeah," Kevin sighs, and crosses the room and crawls right up onto the bed, his limbs all heavy. Sam turns onto his back, surprised, meets him. Kevin’s in socks and sweatpants and the Harvard sweatshirt Dean had given him as a joke, except that Kevin actually loves it and wears it whenever he gets a chance, and Sam’s hands settle on his waist, gripping in through the soft fleecy crimson, holding him. Kevin sighs again, settles in. Sam’s lap, his bed. Firm as a rock, like Kevin’s, but—warm. ‘Cause Sam is there.

"Hey," Sam says, cautious, and Kevin makes a small noise and leans down, lassitude soaking through him from all that shitty shitty booze, and Sam tips his head up and meets the kiss, soft. Soft, but steady, and bracing. He’s like a colossus, Kevin thinks, distantly pleased. That was a good vocab word. The Colossus of Sam. He lips at Sam’s mouth and gets a slow breath, and Sam tipping his head so it’s in the right place, and the kiss is—easy, like that, because Sam makes it easy. His mouth, firm but yielding when Kevin asks, and he doesn’t make fun of Kevin for being shy, or for not—not really—knowing what he’s doing. His hands shift, on Kevin’s waist, slip over his back, over the Harvard sweatshirt. Under it, just the edge of his fingers, and Kevin smiles against his mouth and drops his head, the booze swirling steady and dragging as hard as gravity, pinning him into Sam’s lap, making him laugh.

"You’re in a good mood," Sam says. Smile in his voice. Sam, happy. That doesn’t happen too often. Another slow drag of hands, up his back, and Kevin sits back into them, lets Sam take his weight because he totally can. Door’s still open and there’s enough light in here that he can really see—Sam, in a black tee, his hair a little mussed from sleeping, his eyes on Kevin above him. "What's up?"

"I have a plan," Kevin says. He tries to make it sound serious but he doesn't feel all that serious. Sam's eyes narrow a little, looking at his face. "I think—"

"Are you drunk?"

"That," Kevin says, with dignity, "is not relevant."

"Wow," Sam says, "you really are," but he doesn't sound mad or anything. There's a dimple peeking, in his cheek.

They shift a little, Sam moving under his weight. Not that Sam seems to think his weight is any impediment. Kevin's knees spread on the rock-hard mattress and Sam ends up with his back firm against the headboard, his hands still laced easy around Kevin's waist, looking at him. He's an inch or two taller than Sam, sitting like this, and he laughs a little, enjoying it. The top of Sam's head is nice, who knew?

"You have a plan," Sam prompts him. The corner of his mouth keeps turning up, before he makes it go thoughtful again. "Let's hear it."

It feels distant right now. "Well," Kevin says, and drifts for a second. Sam's body is—it's not like he didn't know this, but Sam's body is—nice. Feels nice. He presses his hands against Sam's pecs and they flex, whether on purpose or not Kevin doesn't know but. Wow.

"Kevin."

"I think you should kiss me," Kevin says. Not what he meant to say.

"Is that the plan?"

He grips Sam's shirt, rolls his eyes. "I mean, it is now," and gets Sam to smile briefly before there's the lean up, a big hand between his shoulderblades to keep him balanced while Sam presses their lips together. Firm-and-yielding, and when Kevin's mouth parts on a little breath Sam tips his head and makes the kiss a little—more yielding, a little wet, enough that Kevin's belly already warm from the booze feels like someone turned it to boil.

"How's that," Sam says, when he pulls back. Soft. Smug. Shithead.

"You suck," Kevin says. Somehow his hands ended up in Sam's hair and he plays his fingers through it. It's soft. Sam showered, before he went to bed, and his hair's clean and probably conditioned and just… nice, like the rest of him. "I deserve more than this."

Sam sits still, letting Kevin tangle him up. "You do," he says.

Kevin tweaks a long wave, there at Sam's temple, focusing. The plan. "Yeah, I do," he says, like Sam was arguing. "I mean, I know I'm not like—whatever, hot or a—a stud or something, but I am a Prophet and I feel like I should get more than a kiss every once in a while. Anyway, I don't see anyone else around here that you could make out with, so you might as well—"

"Wait," Sam says, shaking his head, but Kevin does have a plan and he got drunk for this, okay, so he's not going to be interrupted.

"—and if you're like, holding back because I'm a virgin, you don't need to worry about that, all right, because I've read like a lot about it and I figured out my mom's kid-safe password for the internet when I was eleven, okay, so I know how it goes."

Sam's grip on his sides is tight and Kevin squirms. The hands go looser but Sam's staring at him. "You're—Kevin." Kevin makes a small noise. Duh, he's Kevin. Maybe Sam's drunk too. "Kevin, you're twenty."

"I'm twenty-one," he says, offended. Just because the Winchesters lose years all the time doesn't mean everyone else does. He drags his hands through Sam's hair again, sweeping it back from his face, and Sam's giving him this look that he doesn't really get. Sam looks at him a lot in ways he doesn't really get.

"Twenty-one," Sam says, after a few seconds. Kevin nods. "Sorry."

There's a pause, again. Kevin's comfortable, now he's said his piece. He plays with the ends of Sam's hair where they curl forward. It's really different to his, which pretty much just lays there unless Kevin experiments with products. Sam's got—body. Kevin glances down, where Sam's chest rises with his breath, and grins. Yeah, he's got body.

"When I—after that hunt. When I kissed you." One of Sam's hands slides to the center of his chest, right over where it says Harvard. "Was that the first time someone…?"

"I had a girlfriend," Kevin says.

"That's not an answer."

Sam's as bad as his debate coach used to be. "No," he says, exaggerating it, "it wasn't my first kiss." Might as well have been, because he and Channing hadn't been any good at it. Kissing was just wet and kinda gross, Kevin had thought, until a month ago when Sam had looked down at him with this glad proud look on his face after Kevin had given them the research they needed to figure out their hunt, and he'd said you really saved our asses, and Kevin had looked up at him and Sam's face had changed and he'd, very softly, touched Kevin's chin, and Kevin had felt like he'd lost his balance and Sam had looked back and forth between his eyes—like a movie, Kevin thought, dumb in the moment—and he'd dipped, and it had been…

Sam's hands are under his sweatshirt, now. Just holding his back, his thumbs idly stroking. "Tell me what you did with your girlfriend," he says, and it's just an easy suggestion but also it kinda sounds like Sam does sound, sometimes, when something's a suggestion but really it's an order. How he talks to Dean, when they're prepping a hunt.

Kevin's weirdly pleased to be on the other end of it. "Studied mostly," he says. It's just honest but for some reason Sam smiles. He cards his fingers through Sam's hair again. "And—well, I guess this, too." Sam raises his eyebrows, questioning, and Kevin says: "This. I used to braid her hair for her. For dance performances."

"Really," Sam says, and Kevin shrugs. He squirms closer, in Sam's lap, and loosens the fall of hair behind Sam's left ear. Yeah, there's enough. He tips Sam's chin so he has space and starts in. Sam laughs softly. "Okay. Uh—Kevin." Kevin ignores it; he's busy. "When you… did you ever want to do more? With your girlfriend? More than kissing, I mean."

Sam's hair is great to work with. He unwinds a little and restarts with a french braid, instead, since it's so smooth. Sam asked him a question, though. "Um, not really," he says. Three over two over one over two. It's a soothing pattern, very rhythmic. Like differential equations. "It felt awkward. I mean… it was Channing, you know?"

He admires the effect, curving around Sam's ear, and turns his chin again to do the other side. Sam lets him, holding still for it.

"But you want more," Sam says, while the braid forms perfectly over his right ear. "With me."

Kevin pauses. There was something—different, in Sam's voice. He plaits the last inch, finishing, and he's—aware maybe, more than he has been, of Sam's hands on his skin. They're just sitting there, low on his back, the thumbs still gently moving. "I mean," he says, and bites his lip.

With the sides braided, Sam looks like a Viking. He's big enough to be one. "Did you know that Vikings actually had a much better standard of living than most people think?" Kevin says. "They were really big into bathing."

"Yes, I knew that," Sam says. He sits up more and Kevin's weight shifts, in his lap, so that he grabs onto Sam's shoulders to balance, but of course with Sam's hands on his back he wasn't going to budge at all. Sam's hands shift to his hips and he kisses Kevin again, leaning in quick without his usual careful bend where it feels like he's asking to make sure Kevin's okay with it—Kevin sucks air, opens his mouth, and Sam's tongue is—oh, wet but it's not—not like it was, with Channing, and he makes some weird noise and has his fingers in Sam's hair again, at the back where it's so soft, gripping, trying to make sure he doesn't just float away. Sublimation, solid to gas in a second.

"You're hard," Sam says, quietly, when he pulls back. Kevin's dizzy. Oh, he is. He looks down, between them, and Sam's thumb is dragging down the waist of his sweatpants a little, and he is—yeah—bulging there, really obvious. His belly throbs.

Sam's other hand cards through Kevin's hair. It feels nice and he closes his eyes, just feeling. Sam kisses him again, shallow enough that he can still think, and Sam's thumb drags around the curve of his jaw, and Sam's other thumb slips over, to under his bellybutton, rubbing there a little. "You deserve more," Sam says—funny tone—but that's agreement at least, and Kevin's skin goes hot all over. Not drunk enough to be nervous but he…

When he opens his eyes Sam's cheeks are a little red. Kevin wonders suddenly if he's hard, too, but with Sam's eyes on his he doesn't want to look down. "Let me just take care of you," Sam says, abruptly. "You're drunk and I don't—for tonight, at least. Just let me."

Kevin has no idea what that means. "Okay," he says, because he'd probably agree to anything when Sam looks like he does, right now, when he's—feeling as much as he is, right now.

Sam's mouth turns up, on one side, and then the world tips—Kevin's on his back, his head by the footboard, and Sam's leaning over him with his hand planted on the mattress, Kevin's knees spread around his waist. He reaches up and grips into Sam's hair, the ends of the braids fraying loose. "Yeah, hold on to me," Sam says, soft, encouraging, and Kevin closes his eyes and feels the silky warmth under his fingers, and does.

[foresthearth]

Review: “Witch”, by Lisa Lister

Coming in three years after publication, ‘cause that’s how I roll.

Okay, I have to mention, I HATE these matte covers that pick up fingerprints like you wouldn’t believe. Ugh. Why do this to me and my greasy little hands?!

Moving on.

TL;DR: If you are a cisgender, AFAB woman with a fully functioning reproductive system, who finds this fact to be intrinsic to your parsing of femininity and spirituality, this book will probs be great for you.

Everyone else? This book is bad. Yes, there is some nuance to this and the WHY of its badness (and all reviews are subject to reviewer bias), but overall, in summation? It’s bad.

To start off, the kinda dubious but overall not so bad: it doesn’t really tell you anything. It bills itself as sort of a cultural studies text crossed with an intro to witchcraft; however, for me, it fails at both. As a textbook, it does not cite sources, though there is a “Bookshelf” section at the end – the text itself, however, really just serves as a place for Lister to talk about her perceptions of the female and feminine power throughout history. Which in and of itself is FINE, but don’t say you’re going to explain “the history behind witchcraft” (literally in the back cover blurb) and not actually back that history up with sources. You can talk all you want about persecution of women, but when putting it in a specific context such as the age of witch trials, or referring to societies that used to venerate women before the patriarchy took hold, it really helps to have some primary or secondary source to back up what you’re saying. You may think that we’re all drawing from a common knowledge, but not everyone has access to that knowledge pool, nor has the same background and learning. Just back up what you’re saying, or even just reference further reading that people can do if they want to learn more about what you’re pulling from. (I compare this to one of my books on Queer Magic – it also doesn’t have a bibliography, but that is due to the fact that it IS primary source material, essays from queer folks on *their magic*. Witch is not trying to be a primary source, therefore Lister should really acknowledge where she’s found her information.)

Now, the intro to witchcraft bit. Personally, none of the spells resonated with me – except for the Ostara honeycakes recipe because they are delicious – but that has more to do with how I practise magic. Lister’s practise and mine are very different, and her formalised spells/rituals do absolutely nothing for me. BUT if you are new to witchcraft, and looking for step-by-step guidance for certain issues, or rituals for a sabbat, these could be helpful, or at least give a jumping off point. However, it’s useful to keep in mind that this is not following any specific path within witchcraft – so if you are starting out and want to learn something formalised, this isn’t the book for it. Which is why I say it fails as being an intro to witchcraft: it’s showing you a few spells with no background into the wherefore, no reasoning as to what gives these things the power for this spell. And I feel like that’s because Lister isn’t trying for a tradition-based book, in that she herself works intuitively. So the spellcraft doesn’t really work for me, and I feel like it doesn’t give a firm enough foundation to be considered an introductory book. That being said, it does give just enough information to pique curiosity, so that you may have an idea of where to start further research.

 There is one aspect of Witch that I do find pretty good, which is the constant reiteration of finding your own power and believing yourself and trusting your intuition. This is what I think is the strong point of the book overall – Lister says it’s to help women “reclaim the word ‘witch’”, but witchcraft aside, I definitely feel it’s got some good points about not letting yourself be silenced, and moving into trusting yourself and your ways of knowing.

 BUT.

There is a MAJOR issue that I have with this book, and that is the transphobia and gender essentialism. And this is what, for me, makes it a bad book.

Let me quote a bit for you, from right near the beginning:

“Yet, as I was pulling my pages and pages of handwritten notes… I felt an overwhelming need to apologize for writing a book specifically about women as witches… I’ll piss off the transgender community for not addressing them… That thought? That need to apologize? That’s the very reason why I HAVE to write this book. What I share is NOT intended to exclude others. But trying to be all-inclusive would totally miss the point.” (Witch, pp. xvii-xviii)

Sigh. If you’re going into something with the feeling that you’re being exclusive and need to apologize, maybe that’s a sign to take a step back and look at who you’re excluding and why. If, to you, “the essence of a witch is someone who trusts their inner authority and uses their own personal magic to navigate and negotiate the environment they currently find themselves in” (ibid. p. xix), then why the need to specifically mention that witches power comes from their womb? Why keep bringing it back to “pussy power” and tying everything back to menstrual cycles? Why? And maybe – MAYBE – if there had only been this passing reference in the intro, it could be overlooked. But the references to pussy power, to wombs, tying power to biology, is constant throughout the book:

“Blessed be my womb for being the holy grail, cauldron and keeper of the mysteries.” (p. xxii)

“One sister is chanting the various names given to the Mother God: ��Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana’ over and over, from deep down in her womb. (p. xxiii)

“There were no fanfares, marching bands or big applause: just pussy-deep truth.” (p. 3)

“You can only find your power when you plug yourself back into the motherboard. When your feet touch Mumma Earth, and your womb and heart connect with her.” (p. 16)

“Generations of women have been disconnected from the power that lies between their thighs – their lady landscape, their womb and their menstrual cycle. They’ve lost connection with their ability to create life (and everything else) in their wombs, which means their minds can be easily manipulated and indoctrinated by Patriarchy.” (p. 75)

I could go on, but believe me when I say this is pervasive throughout the entire book.

You can’t have it both ways. You cannot give an inclusive definition of what you think a witch is, and then go on to say ‘oh, but you’re only a witch if you have this biological aspect’ and venerate that biological aspect in an exclusionary way. This book is either only for AFAB, cis women with fully working parts, or it’s for everyone.

I am a queer, cisgender woman with pretty severe endocrine issues which have basically fucked my reproductive system. The amount of time that Lister spends in this book, talking about how our feminine power comes from this same reproductive system is absolutely distasteful, as well as being reductive and exclusionary. I’ve spent enough of my life feeling useless and not enough, due to my physical issues, that I really don’t need a book about reclaiming my feminine power to ALSO say that my feminine power is rooted in a fundamentally broken part of my body. Yes, the menstrual cycle/organs are powerful and have strong magic, but they are NOT what makes someone a woman. To say that it is not only excludes those who either don’t have or have ill-functioning systems, as well as reducing women to nothing more than their reproductive systems… And isn’t that what Lister’s trying to get away from, what with reclaiming feminine power and blasting the patriarchy?

And if I feel this way? I cannot even imagine what my trans family would feel like, expecting a book on witchcraft and the feminine, only to be told mid-text, that they’re not valid or wanted.

I’m not saying that you can’t write a book about the power inherent in the reproductive systems. But just be sure to make it very clear that that’s what you’re doing. Don’t play coy and hide your TERF views in the text, put them on the cover so we don’t pay money for exclusionary bullshit.

And for further reading:

https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095846595

https://medium.com/@pennyred/terf-wars-why-transphobia-has-no-place-in-feminism-60d3156ad06e

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/pantheon/2011/03/transgender-issues-in-pagan-religions/

https://godsandradicals.org/2016/02/10/its-all-about-sex-feminism-paganism-and-trans-exclusion/

https://www.hercampus.com/school/york-u/women-wicca-transphobia-and-other-issues

[royal-babey]

Marionettist

“A puppeteer is a person who manipulates an inanimate object, called a puppet, to create the illusion that the puppet is ‘alive’.”

-

Eden.

You remember reading about it once.

The Garden of Paradise. Prevalent in so many of today’s religions.

Adam and Eve’s first home, before Eve committed the first sin, leading to the both of them being punished for it via being kicked out of paradise.

Shunned for not being blind followers. For arming themselves with knowledge. With their own free wills.

Maybe that’s why you named her that.

Eden.

You’re sitting in front of her comatose body. She’s propped up against her pillows in her bed, and you’re balanced just on the edge.

You study her. Her skin is a warm caramel colour, flushed lightly with the warmth of the room. Her hair a chestnut brown, wavy and sprawled all around her, stopping just at her waist.

She’s shorter than you. Not by much, only four inches, but enough that you feel some sense of pride over finally being taller than someone.

Her body is curvy. People are drawn to those types. Sometimes you hate the feeling of eyes on you, especially in your own body, but it’s necessary when you’re inside hers.

You dress to fit the part. Fit her body. Swapping between dresses short and long, usually in red, to a crop top and maybe some ripped jeans, with a cropped jacket that screams “modern fashion”.

Much different compared to your own clothing style. Hoodies and ripped jeans all in black ll the way!

Though honestly you wouldn’t mind a pink dress...

Make-up took a little while to get used to doing, but you enjoy the process now. Foundation, contour, highlighter, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara and finally lipstick, it’s like painting a picture. Except of course, her face is your canvas.

She has a pretty face...Even without the makeup.

Her cheeks are round, her lips are full, her lashes are long, her green eyes are big…

She has a button nose. Almost. It’s turned up a little sharply at the end.

Her jawline is a soft shadow, but you can make it pop with the contour mentioned before. She looks good either way…

Different from your face.

Sharper edges, gaunt cheeks, chapped lips, haunted eyes.

Haunted?

Shut up, brain.

You reach over then, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Your fingers brush gently against her face. No reaction, not even a flinch or a stir. And compared to your own flesh, hers was unmarred by scarring. Just...Smooth. Unblemished. She has a beauty mark beneath her left eye, her lips too, but those weren’t blemishes. They were called “beauty marks” for a reason. Heh, at least you both have freckles in common. Although hers only splattered from cheek to cheek. Yours were more...Well, everywhere.

As you pull back, you hear yourself whisper something. More thinking aloud than consciously doing so.

“Beautiful…”

...You got jealous.

Sometimes?

A lot?

Eden was just…..

Just that.

She was- is- beautiful.

No scars, no tattoos, no need to fear.

She wasn’t a face the farm would recognise.

But she was a face people would recognise. Because she could do that. Connect to people.

The right people.

Doctor Mortum, Joe, Rosie.

Ricardo Ortega…

You groan softly, rubbing a hand down your face.

Stupid Ortega…

When he approached you- Eden- in the park, you nearly had a damn heart attack. You knew he wouldn’t know it was you, but what if he recognised you anyway? Your mannerisms? Your speech patterns? Your habits?

Eden stands tall and you slouch. Eden speaks clearly and you mumble and stutter. Eden is open and you’re closed. Eden touches people and you avoid them.

Eden is a person and you’re…

Less than human.

And...

Eden is a face with no pain for Ortega to look at, and you’re a ghost of what was. What could have been.

What you...Want to still happen...Both of you...You hope, at least…

Sometimes, you wonder who Eden is. Was. When you looked into her, you couldn’t find much. Her birth year, and that she has a twin brother, but no exact birthday and there’s never been any word from that sibling. So, you try not to worry about it too much.

No records about what happened to her, either. Nothing to tell you why she was in a hospital bed, practically dead to the world. In two weeks they would have harvested her organs.

Lucky you found her when you did.

You feel a little good about giving Eden her life back, even if indirectly.

You also feel a little bad.

But it’s better than her being completely dead, right? You saved her life.

Right?

“Who are you…?”

You whisper it, but again you get no reply. No thoughts either, even in the deepest part of her brain.

Oh well, it made things a little easier for you anyhow.

And it gave you some company! In a sense, atleast. Edens presence was comforting, in its own way. Maybe it’s because you’re so desperately lonely, that you completely ignore the fact that she’s as empty of a psychic imprint as a corpse. Or in more comforting terms, the people on TV.

You liked to talk to her. Or talk...At her? Sure you spend more time as her than not, but there were days where you would come up to her apartment. Clean a little, to give yourself something to do mostly. Then you’d lie on her bed next to her, and just...Talk.

You would vent. Ramble incoherently from lack of sleep. Complain about trivial matters. It didn’t matter what you talked about, it’s not like Eden would ever answer anyway. It did always make you feel a little better though.

And sometimes, there were the bad nights…

The nights where you don’t...Where you can’t be alone. Sure you have your animals, but sometimes you just needed a person.

And that person was Eden.

She wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t judge.

You didn’t like sleeping, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

Yes Edens empty mind unnerved you, but you just comforted yourself by telling yourself that she was just a person with very, very strong shields.

It worked, most nights.

On the nights it didn’t;

Well, you didn’t think Doctor Mortum got much sleep either these days.

Who has the time for sleeping anymore?

Talking of time...

Looking at the clock on the wall, you sigh and climb fully onto the bed, laying down next to Eden.

You had to go.

Or well, Eden had to go.

You didn’t want to keep Ortega waiting, after all.

Even if he was the one who was always late…

…

You try not to look at your body as you sit up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

And so the day begins.

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.11

Man I suck at updating rapidly, I’m so sorry OTL ANYWAY, here’s the new chapter aaahhh :’Y we meet Mikasa, yeehhh !

!! WARNING, NSFW (18+) STUFF HAPPENING HERE !!

First Chapter --> HERE Previous Chapter --> HERE Next Chapter --> HERE

''What do you think she looks like?'' started April as both women were walking down the sewers. Tonight was the night Leonardo was finally bringing this new person around the lair. April had been surprised at first, knowing how the leader usually was reluctant about bringing outsiders, but she dared believe that he was finally starting to open up and accept the fact that meeting new people was not a bad thing. ''Based on what Donnie found, she's Japanese. Mikasa Kanegawa. Her family moved to the United States fourteen years ago for business matters and stayed ever since. Right now she's a martial art teacher, mostly specializing in different forms of karate and taekwondo.'' ''Why am I not surprised,'' lightly laughed the reporter. ''The fact that Leo can speak Japanese just makes things better.'' ''Wait, he does?'' added in Vee, her eyes wide. ''Yeah, he and Splinter are the only one who does. Raph tried to learn but he had some hard time keeping up.'' ''Well that's awesome then, I'll have someone who to practice with when I'll finally get to learn that language!'' April frowned, looking towards her friend: ''What do you mean by 'finally get to'?'' Vee shrugged: ''Oh, well, I've been studying Spanish and German for some years and when I'll feel confidant enough with them I'll get to Japanese and Brazilian Portugese.'' ''Okay, so you're telling me right now you know how to speak four languages?!'' ''I'd say mostly three and a half,'' smiled the artist. ''German is still a bitch sometimes. … My main goal is to be a polyglot.'' ''Poly-what now?'' laughed April. ''Polyglot! It means that I can speak multiple languages. I love learning them and it's a good exercize for the brain.'' ''Jeez, I can see that, you bring out big words just like Donnie. … You two really belong together,'' added the brunette playfully, nudging the other's arm. They finally arrived to the lair, first greeted by Mikey and Raph. April was soon off to go help clean around as Vee made her way towards Donnie's workspace. She was slightly surprised to not find him there, the gears in her mind suddenly turning and fearing for the worst. She frowned, suddenly hearing clanking sounds coming from the garage part of the lair, accompanied by some faint music in the background, recognizing Holy Diver by Dio. Oh no he DIDN'T. She made her way towards the source, getting to the garbage truck and noticing a form underneath; Donnie. He was wearing worn out jeans with holes at the knees part, his 'dirty work' pants as he liked to call them. Only his legs and feet could be seen as his upper body was tucked under the truck, occupied with some parts underneath the vehicule. Vee had a deadpan look on her face, getting to him and nudging one of his feet with one of hers. ''What the hell are you doing?'' she asked. She saw the turtle slightly jump, unaware that she had arrived. As he was laying on a plank with wheels, he rolled out from his hiding place, revealing his features dirtied with oil and soot, same for his torso and arms. ''Oh, Vee! Good timing, I need help,'' he said with a grin. ''Your tiny hands are exactly what I need.'' ''Donnie!'' scolded the woman, hands on her hips. The mutant's smile faded, his lips now forming a thin line: ''… What?'' ''You said you'd be working on the truck tomorrow! Leo and Mikasa will be coming in at any moment now and you look like you walked straight into Mordor.'' This time Donnie couldn't help his cocky grin, easily quoting: ''One does not simply walk into Mordor.'' Vee puffed, trying to contain her snicker. She did get back to a serious state though. ''Couldn't you just wait? It'd be cool for Leo's friend to have a good first impression of this place.'' ''I know,'' added the turtle. ''I just thought about fixing the suspension, usually that's quick work.'' ''Quick or not, now's not the time!'' Vee tried to soften her features. ''… Tell you what, if you stop right now and go clean, tomorrow I'll help you with whatever you want to do.'' ''But you hate working on cars and mechanics,'' pointed Donatello. ''I promise I won't complain,'' smiled the human. She got nearer, soon hunched over him, her gaze suddenly flirtarious. ''And then we'll spend the evening together and do whatever you want.'' ''Whatever I want?'' ''Yeah!'' ''Even spend all our evening learning all the decimals of Pi?'' Vee winced a little. ''… Not what I had in mind, but yeah, whatever I guess.'' The other laughed, getting up. ''Don't worry, I'm messing with you,'' he said, now standing next to the woman. Vee couldn't help getting closer, her fingers instinctively hooking at his jeans' loops, slightly biting her lip with a smile. ''… Wearing those jeans, you can mess with me anytime,'' she dared say. She was met with a renewed chuckle from the mutant, the male placing a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so he could leave a kiss on her lips. He knew he had her under his charm, soon leaving a hand to cup her jaw and neck, grinning wide in his mind. And as soon as the kiss ended, he playfully frowned, cackling. ''Ah-ha! Right into my trap! Now you have to go clean with me.'' Vee was confused for a moment, until she brought a hand to where he held, noticing how dirty her skin was now. ''Oh you nasty boy!'' *** Donnie had opted for a bath this time, the tub easily fitting both of them anyway. Vee sighed, her back resting against her lover's torso, her eyes closed as she let her muscles relax in the warm water. She hummed as she felt the turtle's arms get around her, hugging her close, resting his head on top of hers. ''Feels like heaven right now,'' mumbled Vee, a soft smile on her lips. ''No need to bring religion into this. Let us praise our rightful deity instead; the glorious serotonin,'' added Donatello with a calm sigh. Vee giggled, sighing and humming once more afterward, letting herself drift into this peaceful feeling. She felt the turtle's hands move after a while, slowly, trailing her shape and soon getting to the woman's arms. They were now holding hands, the mutant bringing one up after the other, leaving lasting kisses on top of them. ''You're so small...,'' mused Donnie. Everytime he compared her hands to his three-fingered ones, he couldn't help wonder how life would be like if he and his brothers had ever taken that purple ooze... He did envy humans for being so free up above … but at the same time he couldn't deny how unique he and his family were, somehow finding solace in that simple thought. ''Is it a bad thing or a good one?'' asked Vee, bringing the other back from his thoughts. ''Definitely a good one,'' answered the turtle in a sweet tone, bringing his arms and hands around the woman once more. ''You're cute.'' Vee puffed a small laughter: ''Oh please, I'm not cute. I'm a femme fatale,'' she joked. ''You're the one who said it so it is now law.'' He chuckled, leaving small kisses on top of her head.

He could certainly not deny that fact, her hourglass shape ever so hypnotizing. She was no thin supermodel, but he couldn't have asked for better, to say the truth. Donnie's hands moved once more, stuck in his daydream, somehow starting to lust over her shape. Vee followed his lead, relaxing as she felt one of her lover's touch on her thighs and the other to her breasts. Long sighs left her, sticking closer to the mutant's body, her legs slightly spreading as she knew the male was going to her core, ever so slow and teasing. Vee let out a soft and low moan as the turtle touched her, his pace never too harsh. ''I'm sure this was your plan all along,'' mewled the woman, her eyes still closed, her head hanging back to rest against Donnie's collarbone and base of his neck. ''If I could, I'd keep touching you all day and night long,'' he said, a low churr rising. ''Your body's one of the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'' ''Hmm, you're too kind, sir,'' added in Vee, smiling lazily. Her hips started to follow his rhythm, biting her lip so she would stay quiet. Donnie's hand on her torso moved to her neck, cupping her jaw and tilting her head slightly more so he could trail kisses along her features as he started to finger her. ''Oh, Donnie...,'' let out the human in a small whimper. She felt her mind spin, getting dizzier with each seconds. She couldn't stay put, her toes curling, her back slightly arching in pleasure. She could feel her lover's erection, grinning lazily. ''It's not fair, I'm the one having all the fun here,'' she commented, her fingers slowly trailing on whatever part of his skin she could reach. ''Don't worry, I'm having fun too,'' answered Donatello, nuzzling her. ''I just want to focus on you...'' A long moan escaped Vee, easily distracted by all these sensations she now felt. Her breathing followed the other's pace, slightly increasing in speed. She mumbled some nonsense, her whole body exploding like fireworks. She didn't want to be selfish, but this whole attention spent on her could only arouse her, gasping as she could feel Donnie's free hand go from her neck to her torso, his caress needy yet sensual. ''Don't stop,'' breathed out Vee, clutching anything she could get a grab on. Her voice started to rise without her consent, blushing at such weakness on her part. She could feel the mutant's finger curl inside her, reaching the right spot. It didn't take long afterward for Vee to cum, moaning her lover's name, her hips moving in circles as she could feel her walls clamp around the other. She felt out of this world, her whole self being on such a high. She had a hard time coming back to reality, only getting to her senses when she felt the turtle's arms around her once more, petting her and some kisses left on top of her head. ''Oh- oh fuck,'' she mumbled. ''That was... fuck.'' ''I know, love,'' smiled Donnie. Somehow eternity seemed to last for a while before they decided to get out of the bathtub. Vee still had a hard time thinking straight, but as soon as she saw that her lover still had an erection, she acted without hesitation. Both still naked, Donatello was backed up to a wall, Vee before him as she started a handjob, staying close as she left lasting kisses on the other's torso. ''Now's your turn,'' she said, showing a smirk as she looked up to Donnie. She felt the other's hands get lost in her hair, holding her close as he left a hungry kiss on her lips, sounds of love escaping him from times to times. His hips lightly followed the woman's rhythm, too caught up in his lust to think rationally. ''Cum for me, Don. I know you want to.'' A loud churr escaped him as he got to his release, knowing he couldn't have lasted longer anyway. He could feel Vee's mouth travel in light kisses around his jaw and his neck, both now in this blissful afterglow. They didn't dare move, lost in eachother's arms, whispering sweet nothings to one another. It was only after a while that Vee was the first one to move, proceeding to clean the mutant before stating that they needed to get dressed. She couldn't erase her smile, same for Donnie, the male playfully growling at times and quickly bringing her near for quick stolen kisses. They finally exited the room, snickering, holding hands and simply unable to let go of one another. *** As they stumbled on the main place, the couple froze as they spotted Leonardo near the entrance, already presenting his friend; Mikasa. Vee quickly brought Donnie to the side with her, now speaking in a hushed tone, gritting her teeth lightly. ''Goddammit, I knew we'd get late. Now we'll look like we don't care about meeting her.'' ''What are you talking about?'' snickered the turtle. ''I'm sure nobody will mind. We were just …. occupied,'' he ended with a comical wink. ''You big dork,'' laughed the woman, lightly slapping one of his shoulders. ''… Now, let's just act as normal as possible. I want to make a good first impression.'' ''I'll let you initiate. The only things I'll know to say are my name and ask how's it going. I suck at presentations.'' Vee was surprised for a moment: ''Huh, wouldn't have guessed.'' ''Hey, I've waited months to meet you. What do you think I was doing? Preparing my speech, duh!'' Both were now laughing and snorting, quickly trying to stop themselves before attracting attention on them. Vee confidantly took Donnie's hand in hers, next making her way towards the group. Their arrival didn't escape the newcomer's gaze as she turned to them. The artist couldn't help her amazement as their eyes met, the first word to come up in her mind being: feline. Her almond shaped eyes had brown irises sparkled with gold, piercing anyone's soul like a hidden fire. Her long ebony hair were straight and silky, complementing how tall she was. Vee couldn't help thinking how she would be intimidated by such woman if she were to meet her on the street. Dressed in a black leather vest and dark clothes, she didn't look like someone you could easily mess with... Leo showed a smile, going towards the couple so he could introduce them rightfully. Vee slightly shook her head, coming back to reality. She finally showed a smile, shaking Mikasa's hand. ''It's a pleasure to meet you,'' said the newcomer. The artist was mesmerized by the woman's voice, soft yet so strong and confidant. She couldn't help thinking how a good match she could be for the leader in blue... *** ''How did you two first meet anyway?'' asked April as everyone was seated around the kitchen table. ''I thought Leo was rather careful around strangers...'' That got her an annoyed stare from the leader, but he got back to normal as Mikasa began speaking: ''I was walking home from work one night and I wanted to take a shortcut through an alleyway. Unfortunately, some street gang probably had the same idea and they stumbled on me, asking for my money.'' ''That's when he jumped in, I'm guessing?'' commented Raph, smirking. ''Actually, she beat me to it,'' added Leo. ''She kicked the living shit out of some of them. I only got to intervene when I saw a guy get a gun out.'' ''It was an … interesting fight,'' half-smiled Mikasa. ''Battling alongside a shadow was an intense experience.'' ''Were you scared?'' asked Vee. The fighter's smile was renewed, tender this time. ''Of course! I pretty much am all the time whenever I battle, but that's what drives me to go forward and aim for victory.'' ''And what about when you saw Leo?'' added in Mikey with a playful look. Leo and Mikasa glanced at eachother, smiling, the woman snickering as she tried to hide her features in embarassment. ''She called me a kappa,'' answered the blue clad turtle. Donnie and Vee were the first ones to laugh, the others confused. ''And what the fuck is that?'' questionned Raph. ''A turtle-like demon from Japan,'' answered Donnie, still giggling. ''Thanks, Donnieclopedia~,'' added Mikey. ''Okay, am I really the only one who got to faint? That's not fair,'' complained April with amusement. '''Cause you're weak, April,'' laughed Raph as the reporter slapped his arm next. Mikasa seemed intrigued. ''Was I supposed to faint? Is it weird? How did Vee react then?'' Vee looked smug, slightly hunching forward on the table, sustaining herself on her elbow. ''To put it simply, I said: Wow.'' The other frowned a bit in confusion. ''Wow?'' ''Yes! I mean, it's not everyday that you get to see a walking, talking turtle. I was already friend with Donatello before meeting him in person so I guess it made things easier? … Also I'm a very curious person so I was mainly mesmerized than scared.'' Mikasa seemed pensive for a moment. ''… I guess I was curious too. For me, it's not everyday I get to battle with the aid of a ninja.'' she had smirked at that last part, briefly glancing towards Leonardo. ''Ha! I'd pay money to see her kick Leo's butt,'' commented Raph with a smirk. His only answer was the leader throwing him an annoyed glare. Donnie did snicker, amused that one of his brothers was finally living through some embarassement like he had to go through the first time he brought Vee to the lair. *** That first meeting with Mikasa had gone surprisingly well! Vee did notice many times how Leo seemed flustered at times, always smiling and his behavior way relaxed. She knew the boys meeting new people was a good thing, April often mentionning how it was refreshing to see them slowly open to the surrounding world. Of course they had to be careful, but it was certain that the mutants had a good reasonning and knew when to show themselves to people. Mikasa was still a mystery. Seeing how relaxed and composed she was during that whole encounter, she must have had a good relation with Leonardo, trusting him and his family to know she had nothing to fear. Vee knew she'd be eager to meet her again, forever captivated by her whole character. *** The next day, Vee did keep her word, not even complaining once as she was settled under the truck, by Donnie's side, helping with whatever he wanted to do. She mostly had to reach for wires inbetween small spaces, her tiny hands proving to be helpful. She was glad to have put on old clothing she didn't care about, soon her grey tank top covered in oil. Her features were dirtied too, but at least she wasn't the only one in this condition. She couldn't deny this moment to be fun, always happy to help the mutant with whatever project he was on. He was always patient with her and somehow eager to teach her new things, as if sharing his knowledge was a dear passion of his. At some point Donnie gave Vee a break, saying that he didn't need much help for what he had to do next. The woman still stayed though, taking this opportunity to teach in return; taking control of the radio and putting in some jazz. She would speak about her various inspirations: Ella Fitzgerald, Julie London, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole and many more. How and when the style started, how jazz spread into its many branches.   Donnie could see how passionate she was about music, his love for the artist growing again once more. He could never erase his smile, watching her be so passionate and inspired, the woman drawing at the same time, stating that so many ideas could bloom in her mind whenever she listened to anything. A moment of peace settled in, Vee too caught up in her drawing, seated on a stool, and Donnie focused on the truck's motor before him. The soft tune of Nancy Wilson's Wave was floating in the air, creating a nice mood. The woman's eyes were sometimes glancing up to the turtle, her pencil doing precise strokes on the paper, soon the mutant's shape taking form. She had always wanted to draw him, but was always so shy about asking him to pose... Hunched over her drawing for a little while, she was next back to an observational stance, only to squeak as she spotted Donnie right before her, a smirk on his lips as he was trying to clean his features with a rag. ''You're looking at me and you're drawing. May I dare guess you're drawing me?'' questionned the mutant with amusement. ''Gnnoooo?'' tried to lie Vee, clutching her sketchbook against her chest. ''Aww, come on, I want to see.'' Damn it, she couldn't resist his pleading eyes. She sighed briefly, moving the sketchbook and revealing her work. Donnie studied the drawing for some seconds, now cleaning his hands with the rag, a pleased smile then appearing. ''… You draw so well,'' he complimented. ''I wish I could draw like you.'' Vee snorted a small laugh, arching an eyebrow: ''Are you kidding me? You draw all those complicated blueprints, you have talent too.'' ''Oh please, it's not the same. I follow lines and models. You draw organically, that's something else!'' Vee pointed the garbage truck, mostly the lettering that said 'Tartaruga Brothers'. ''You did this I presume?'' ''I used a stencil,'' simply answered the turtle. ''Same for when I do tattoos.'' Vee did a double take, surprised. ''Wait! So you're telling you're the one who tattooed your brothers? That's awesome!'' ''I did come up with the machine, but as for designs, it's all thanks to Mikey. He's more the artist around here. All I do is follow the lines and fill with black if necessary.'' ''Can you tattoo me? I've been wanting new tattoos lately!'' asked Vee with a large smile. She did wince a little though, knowing she must have sounded needy. ''Unless, that's if you want, of course.'' Donnie lightly laughed, amused by her enthusiasm. ''My equipement is mostly made for strong skin, since us reptiles have it thicker than humans,'' he answered. ''I'd have to change my machine a bit if I ever was to tattoo you. … But yeah, I'd like that!'' ''Sweet, I can finally get your name tattooed on my butt,'' she joked. Both were now laughing, soon Donnie's features showing a loving smile, next tenderly moving some strands of hair away from the woman's face. ''… You are beautiful,'' he said, lovesick. Vee chuckled: ''Ha! Even if I look like a chimney sweeper right now?'' ''Doesn't bother me. As long as I can see you smile, it's the best look there is.'' He couldn't help cupping the bottom of her face, next hunching a little so he could leave a sweet kiss on her lips. Vee did laugh a little afterward, grinning. ''I must be tasting like that damn truck and oil,'' she said, gesturing her dirtied look. ''Then,'' began Donnie, taking her sketchbook and pencil out of her hands, leaving them on a table nearby. ''I think this calls for a shower.'' ''And what next?'' ''Lots of kisses that don't taste like oil?'' ''Now we're talking,'' chuckled Vee. *** That patrol had been pretty much eventless, considering the constant lookout for Foot clan activity. Raph and Mikey were already off to the kitchen for a late snack, leaving Leo and Donnie to hang their equipment. As Donnie was calm as usual, Leo seemed thoughtful, many things bouncing around in his mind. He seemed to weight his words, biting his lip a little in anticipation, finally leaving his katanas to rest on their stand as he started to speak. ''I don't know what to do.'' The purple clad turtle frowned, glancing to his brother. ''… What do you mean?'' ''About Mikasa,'' he added without hesitation, his blue eyes finally rising to meet the other's gaze. He paused, collecting his thoughts: ''I feel so at ease when I'm with her. I want to believe that something could happen, but at the same time I don't want to hurt myself like last time.'' Donnie was confused. ''…. 'Like last time'? Leo, what are you talking about?'' The elder sighed, somehow looking defeated. ''… I've been with another woman before.'' The tall mutant was suprised at first. ''And you didn't tell us?'' he asked next. ''… What happened?'' He wanted to be angry at his brother for keeping such secret, but at the same time he started to fear the tale. Leo sat down, back against the wall, his eyes stuck to the ground. For the first time - at least that's how it seemed for Donnie - he looked ashamed, scared, unsure... The purple clad mutant joined his brother on the ground, waiting for him to speak. ''It happened in spring, two years ago. I was on a solo patrol and I saw those men run after this girl.... I didn't wait before jumping in, scaring them away. I thought I'd scare the girl too, which is somehow expected, but instead she rushed to me, crying and thanking me. … Those men were after her because she owed them money and at that moment she had none, she was in trouble.'' ''Why did she owe money?'' ''Because she was an escort. Those guys were some of her boss's lackeys or something like that and she had to give her share so they could provide her with their protection. … It was stupid, and dangerous...'' He sighed once more, passing a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts. ''… I wanted to go away, but she insisted on thanking me as I brought her back to her apartment. … She didn't want me to leave, scared that the guys would stumble at her place.'' Donnie showed half of a smile: ''I'm guessing that night took an interesting turn?'' Leo gave back that same smile. ''Indeed. … It felt like a dream. That dream lasted for five months until she disappeared. She said she had to leave town for her own safety. … She never contacted me since then.'' His expression came back to a neutral tone. ''I've never told anyone because everything about it was rather strange.... There was no real love involved; she only wanted me around for protection and sometimes she would invite me in her bed. … I wanted to believe I loved her at some point, but I couldn't bring myself to experience something you guys didn't.'' A sigh escaped him, somehow relieved to speak about all of this. ''When I saw you bring Vee here for the first time, I couldn't help feeling angry and scared. I didn't want you to experience the same shit I went through; to fall for someone and then watching them go away without any warning. … But as time went by, I came to get to know her better, seize how she really is and I knew you two were meant to be. … To see you two together, it kind of brings me hope.'' Donnie was silent, pensive. He would have never guessed such thing to have happened to his brother and somehow it also made sense? He could remember how Leo would often go on solo patrol and be secretive about some of his endeavours. … But never he would have known that it was because of some girl. ''… What was her name?'' dared ask Donatello. Leo half smiled: ''Rose. At least, that's what she wanted me to call her. I never got to know her real name. … She loved roses and her lips were always as red as one.'' He then left a hand on Donnie's shoulder, to emphasize his next words. ''… I would like if you didn't tell Raph and Mikey about this. I will tell them in time. It's just that... it somehow seemed easier to tell you first now that you experienced that feeling.'' ''Also I'm sure they would both freak out,'' lightly laughed Donnie. ''… Don't worry, Leo, your secret's safe with me.'' The leader nodded, satisfied. As both were heading out, the blue clad turtle did stop the other another time, slightly hesitating on his words. ''… Is there a way to know when the time is right? To know if she's the right person?'' A tender smile was now on Donnie's lips. He had wondered the same a few times before... ''First and foremost, you have to be friends. Talk and spend time together, that's the best way to go. Things will build up by themselves and the moment will come without both of you knowing. … As long as you respect eachother, the answer will come naturally.'' ''Ha, now that you voice it out, it does sound pretty obvious,'' chuckled Leo. ''… Thanks Donnie.'' ''Anytime.'' As they both went their ways, Donnie got to his room, carefully opening the door and peeking inside. He noticed Vee already asleep in his bed, tangled in the drapes. He had expected to find her this way, knowing the patrol had ended late. A small smile forever present on his features, he didn't wait to get inside, undressing and finally climbing next to the woman, tenderly wrapping his arms around her form. Vee woke up a bit, mumbling some words, but she was soon drifting back to sleep as she felt the other nuzzle and kiss her features. ''I love you so much,'' he murmured next, sighing against her skin. These words couldn't feel any truer right this moment. They were the absolute truth in fact, but only now did he really realize all the luck that had been bestowed upon him...

[rudemaidenswrite]

What Now?

part 4

By @pusantheamazonian

part 1: https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168537414261/what-now

part: 2: https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/169998134801/what-now

part 3 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/169998376276/what-now

“So, if you are supposed to be making dinner, why are you eating pasta?”  Loki inquiries.

“I’m pre-gaming dinner, bitch.” Lucine finishes off rest of the pasta off quickly.

“What she means is that she is eating a snack beforehand so she will not be eating as she makes dinner. She is always snacking.” You look at Loki explaining before untangling yourself to start dinner.  You gather most of the items and place them on the counter.

“I’m just a slut for food.”

“So, you do anything for food?”  Loki is repulsed that Lucine would go that far for food.

“No, I have some standards.”

“Don’t let her lie to you.” You stare at Lucine in annoyance.

“I don’t blow people in parking lots for tacos. So, there are some standards, just not a lot.”

“I doubt it.” Turning to the counter you start slicing the chicken into stripes.

   Well I haven’t yet… Also, how big is Loki? Is he circumcised or uncircumcised? I have money and food riding on it.

 “Ew! No Lucine, why would you even ask that?” Embarrassed at the question.

“Cause I need to know! I told you I have money and food riding on it! $50 to be exact.” She slaps her hand down hard on the counter.

“Wait what just happened?” Loki interrupts.

“I just asked Ana how big your cock is and if you are circumcised or uncircumcised. I made a bet against Frankie about it. It was never settled because we didn’t have proof until now.” Lucine gestures at Loki.

Loki is genuinely flabbergasted. “You made a bet on that information?”

“Yes! We got into the debate if Thor was circumcised or not. But Norse mythology is the foundation of the North Germanic people stemming from Norse paganism, the Christianization of Scandinavia and Scandinavian folklore. We then compared that time frame of origin to other religions that do have the tradition of circumcision. Then also compared it to what countries are the most popular to have this performed. In the end we agreed that Thor is uncircumcised on the basis that Vikings and the Scandinavian people of that time were also uncircumcised.” Lucine babbles on as if it is nothing.

“You two are perverts. You really did all that research just to know is Thor was uncircumcised?” Loki not so sneakily, wraps an arm loosely around your waist. As he continues to engage Lucine.

“Duh! We’re girls, but you. We could not agree. I argued that you are circumcised based solely on the fact that jötun are intersex; you are gender fluid and classy. Frankie argued that you are uncircumcised because you were raised in Asgard, and that their customs is what you would have followed.”

“How?” Loki almost fumbles.

“I told you she was going to be all sass and in your face.” Chuckling you give Loki a soft smile.

“I have a Master’s in Norse Mythology and Minored in Old Norse language. Sweet cheeks.” Lucine smirks wiggling her eyebrows.

“Wow, I have my very own stalker.” Loki gloats in pride.

“Maybe, maybe not. I would rather be stalking Steve.”

“You mean Stars and Stripes?”

 She has a huge hard on for Steve.

 “Why become Miss America when I can become Mrs. America.” Lucine acts as if she is defending her honor.

“You like him that much?” Loki is disgusted.

“Loki, I would kill the whole planet if it gave me the chance to mount Steve.”

“I see that you both have evil tendencies.” He glances back and forth between you two.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lucine acts innocent.

“Yeah right you are extremely salty. After your last boyfriend, you destroyed his car with a baseball bat.”

“It was never actually proven that it was I who Lucilled fuck twat’s car.” Lucine stuck her tongue out.

“Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, nudging Loki to the side so you can wash your hands.

“Hold on. We skipped something. The original question was never said. Solana reacted and you said that you had asked her something.” Loki points at Lucine suspiciously.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No. Honestly I forgot.” Turning around in Loki’s grip. You face Lucine.

“You forgot? How could you forget?” Lucine is confused.

“Excuse me, that it only works within a one-mile range.”

“What only works within a one-mile range?”  Loki demands.

“Oh well…Loki you remember when Tony accused me of being telepathic and I denied it?” Loki nods his head.  “Well I lied.”

“What?”

“It’s more like twin telepathy.” Lucine chimes.

“Twin telepathy?” Loki repeats making sure he heard right.

“Twin telepathy; well more like a psychic link. Scientifically there is no proof but it is speculated that twins or multiples are more likely to have a psychic link. Studies have suggested that it is because of the closeness and intimate connection that these people have starting from conception and living inside the womb.”  You rattle off the information quickly, not pausing for a breath.

When you do stop for a breath Lucine picks up. “But none of these studies tested to see if these multiples have the X-Gene. It is possible for a person to be a carrier of the gene and not know it or the gene has not been activated yet. So, to say that they are telepathic. They must be mutants whose X-Gene is activated.”

“How do you normally activate it?” Loki’s interested now. He wasn’t able to read much on mutant DNA. With the new enlightened information that you are a telepath, adds to his curiosity.

“Well there are several ways; being exposed mutagenic like chemicals, radioactive rays, while in the womb because the mother was put through extreme stress, or at birth, puberty, stress, trauma, fear, and starvation.” Lucine responds first.

“But the most common is puberty and emotional trauma.” Placing a hand on top of his, you give a small squeeze.

“So, you are saying that you two are telepathic?”

“In a sense yes.” You give him a goofy smile.

“It’s a closed-circuit link. Only me and Ana; just within a one-mile radius though.”

“But I can respond to the Professor and you though.” You mumble.

“The Professor is the Professor. Anyone can respond to him.” Lucine sighs.

“This is why you took it better than I expected when I used telepathy on you.” Loki eyes you with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah, I thought it was a little weird the first time but I just ignored it.”

“You two are mutants?” Loki double checks.

“No, more like a subsect of mutants.”  Lucine starts to play with the empty bowl.

Pulling your hair up you continue. “When we four, we had to have blood transfusions. Hank says that our psychic link was caused by the radiation from the X-rays. The X-ray bonded the X-Gene from the blood transfusion to our DNA.”

“Hank suspects the we had the same donor who didn’t know they had the X-Gene. The professor said that we don’t even register on the map when he searches for new mutants.”

“We are as normal as twins can get.” Winking you turn back around to peel the onions.

“1. Who is Hank? 2. Don’t tell Tony.” Loki orders.

“I don’t plan to tell Tony. That would be crazy.” You look at him like he is nuts. Telling Tony would only cause more problems.

“You mean Dr. Hank McCoy the world-renowned biochemist, a brilliant intellect, who is a giant blue teddy bear.” Lucine is offended that Loki doesn’t know who Hank is.

“Lucine how do you know he is a giant blue teddy bear?” You question her suspiciously. Wondering if she has been stalking the X-mansion again.

“Cause 1. He has blue fur. 2. Lana told me. And if I get rejected by Steve I’m going to go love Hank a bunch more.” Lucine winked.

“Blue is her favorite color.” You whisper.

 *slam*

“Dad’s home. Time to look busy.” Lucine jumps off the stool. And pushes you out of the way, taking over the process.

Bumping into Loki he wraps his arms further around you as he steps backwards. Holding you away from the probably danger, Lucine with a knife.

“Still pulling that trick?” Laughing you cover you mouth with a hand.

“You know it.” The sass starts to ooze out of Lucine again.

Then the back door opens. In walks dad, hanging his baseball hat on the hook. The man is 6’1” with silver spread out through all of his black hair, goatee matching. This mountain of a man is a sweetie in disguise. He barely looks up but notices the way Loki is holding you. Before suddenly dropping his hands to the side and standing straight.

“Hi daddy. I’m making fajitas for dinner.”

“Hi dad!” You jog over and give him a hug.

“Ah so you finally brought someone home. When’s the wedding?”  He teases hugging you back.

“Dad, stop trying marry me off.”

“Well it’s a step closer than Lucine. She has scared all the boys away. There’s no hope for her.” He gives a fake sigh, gesturing towards Lucine.

“Thanks dad. Love you too. But you are forgetting that I haven’t scared Lukas or Newt away.” Lucine pauses to wave the knife around.

“Friends only by association.” You point out.

“Hey, I brought Lukas into our group. It’s Newt that is friends with us by association because he’s Lana’s brother.” Lucine glares at you.

“Dad, I brought someone home. His name is Loki and Lucine has already started her threats.” You try to change the subject.

 *chop*

The knife in Lucine’s hand comes down harshly beside Loki’s hand that is resting on the counter.

“Hey that was almost my hand.” Offended Loki tries to reprimand her.

“I missed.” Lucine says cold not bothering to look at him.

“Lucine Adelia, stop threatening him.” Dad grumbles staring at the two.

Lucine wretches the knife up and scowls. “Loki would you be a dear and fetch me the peppers from the fridge.” Lucine over exaggerates politely.

Loki vigilantly backs up and opens the fridge door. Maintaining eye contact with Lucine the whole way, in case she decides to throw the knife. After handing the peppers over. Loki is immediately grabbed by the arm as your dad drags him upstairs without a word said.

   What the hell?

 Ah…..You on your own. Dad probably wants to have the talk.

 The talk?

 The talk about us.

 “Ooh I hope it goes better than when I brought fuck twat over.” Lucine hums.

[savinscripts]

Frost Flowering (GOT AU)

❝ Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. ❞ 

  - George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Faye Lacroy shivered beneath her cloak as a gust of wind blew beneath it and up the back of her riding leathers. The journey had been pleasant enough, until it had started to get cold. The warm sun and cool breezes of the Southern Plains had long ago been left behind, replaced by forest and rivers and flurries of snow. The drifts were small, and the tree still green. The rivers still ran strong and the creeks and ponds still shimmered brightly in what sun peeked through the clouds. It was beautiful in it’s own way. But Faye knew it wouldn’t last. Not when they ventured into the true North. She’d been once with her father. As a young girl. There was no real green where they were headed. Only snow and ice and rock. And if the men of the North were anything like the land itself, Faye didn’t expect a very warm or pleasant welcome. Though perhaps the more pleasant - and she used the term loosely - weather of the river region would thaw some of the harshness out of the Northmen.

Faye sighed, shifting in her saddle. She didn’t want to be making this trip. It was nearing harvest season back home, and with her brothers gone there was no one to oversee it but her and her father and a few trusted men. She hated not being there to help.

But the Tyrells had called for them. After being insulted and scorned by the Lannisters, the great house at Highgarden has pulled back from the golden lion, and sought out better allies. As her father’s only living child, and the only heir of House Lacroy of Burning Rock after her one remaining brother’s death from fever, Faye had the duty of representing her house and leading their bannermen North, heeding the Tyrell’s call to arms.

Resistant to her father marrying her off for interhouse relation building, Faye had earned a reputation as being afflicted with everything from warts to greyscale to looking like a hedgemaid. She was only in her early thirties, but most women had married and birthed several children already at Faye’s age. Stories said she was harsh-looking and leather-skinned; that she looked like a man and had hair shorn short as the fuzz on a peach; that her chest was flat and her womb barren, and that was why no man would have her. But that was far from true.

Faye was tall and shapely, with long hair the color of ripe wheat, and skin that was burnished bronze by the southern suns. She sat a horse as well as any soldier, and could use both sword and bow from the saddle, though she preferred the bow. Her father had raised her right alongside her brothers, learning to hunt and fish and learn the ways and strategy of war. Probably because her mother had died when Faye was small, and her father hadn’t had the heart to turn her away when she asked to come with him and the boys.

So now she was riding towards RiverRun, to meet with the newly appointed King in the North, Rob Stark himself. The only Lady among the Lords Hightower, Tarley, Fossway, and Rowan. All of which barely acknowledged her beyond the required formalities and out of respect for her father.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Faye said to her handmaiden, who rode alongside her on a big bay gelding.

“We’re not even in the real cold yet, m’lady,” the younger woman said. “This is just a dusting. Wait ‘til the drifts are high as your head.”

“Gods save us,” Faye shuddered, but smirked. It didn’t last long, as from up ahead the call to halt rang out. “Wait here,” she said, and spurred her horse to the head of the line, waiting to see what the commotion was about.

Stefan Savin had been sat outside his tent honing the edge of his blade when the scout came pounding through the war-camp set up around the outskirts of Riverrun after their most recent successful series of battles against the Lion. Jaime Lannister their prisoner, the Kingslayer, pride-hungry fool that he was, baited successfully into a trap within the boundaries of the Whispering Woods followed by a swift demolishment of the remaining Lion’s forces- taken unawares at the Battle of the Camps.

The mood in camp was mixed, jubilant but sombre considering the harrowing news of Lord Eddard Stark’s death at the hands of the most recently crowned King Joffrey first of his name though, the event in turn had spurred the crowning of Robb Stark, King in the North and declaration of independence from the rest of the seven Kingdoms. Fane liked the boy well enough, was reminded of his father by his steadfast nature in a way but there was no denying the fact that Robb was still only fifteen and whilst having proven himself a capable warrior and leader there was no denying that the mantle handed to him was a heavy one. Though he’d been handling matters diplomatically, as such with arranging a marriage to one of the Frey daughters to secure their passing at the Twins. Where the Weasel had gotten the notion he was worthy of a royal marriage was beyond him and most other Lords but there was little outward grumbling about such things. This mantle was one he’d been reluctant to take up, further proof that perhaps he would indeed make a capable King for these people so often misunderstood by their Southern counterparts, who were so taken with the flights of fancy, silken dresses, endless bards and sweet summer wines. The North was a mysterious and unforgiving place to those summer children, and its inhabitants born and raised with a grit not well comprehended. Their religion even less further understood.

But the North was his home, born the eldest heir to Alistair and Katherine Savin (formerly of House Manderly) with a younger brother who stewarded with House Umber, widower to Eddara Tallheart along with their stillborn son and ancestral links to House Stark it was easy to say the North was very much in his blood. His people. His home. His life. Like the other Northern Lords he would fight until his last breath until he saw it secured and freed from the Capitol so far South and full of shit that it was almost incomprehensible why they even allowed the person sitting on that throne of swords to rule the North anyways. The Starks had bowed to dragons but where were those dragons now?

Dead. Dead and gone an age ago now.

Either way, something had a scout hurrying through the gates like someone had set his breeches on fire and Fane was quick to pursue the young lad on his flight through the castle, stepping into the back of the makeshift throne-room where Robb Stark sat with a bronze crown nestled on his auburn curls. Automatically, Fane sought out the corner of the room out of the way to observe the goings on.

“Your Grace! Your Grace! I beg a word!” the young mud-brown haired scout wheezed as he pushed through the congregation of Lords drawing attention and turning heads by the sudden intrusion on discussions about their continued pursuit deeper into the Westerlands. To poke the lion and try to get Sansa and Arya Stark freed along with the remains of Ned Stark returned.

“Yes Darrin?” the young wolf’s voice cut across the mutterings.

“Tyrell banners, spotted riding along the Red Ford -- Mace Tyrell riding at the head of their columns with a wheel-house followed by Lord Fossoway, Lord Hightower, Lord Tarly, Lord Rowan and Lady Lacroy.”

Murmurings a mixture of outrage and disbelief stirred from the assembled crowd with the given information remarks of “traitors” “turn-cloaks” “green-boys” “summer knights” all amongst the various insults thrown about.

“I say we tell them to turn around ‘n’ go right on back to where those boy-fuckers come from” Lord Bolton declared getting a murmuring of ayes going up, “we don’t need green-boys to fight our wars.” Several other such remarks were made, and Robb listened to each Lord in turn.

Eventually, Fane stirred from his corner eyeing the other gathered Lords “Your Grace, if I might have a word-- I know our pride runs deep, but consider this: the numbers of the Reach by far outweigh the Lannister forces, their gold supply is almost comparable too and their harvest the largest yield seen in the Seven Kingdoms…” he was drawing more heads and attention as he stepped forwards through the crowd which parted until he stood at the front not minding the collective sets of eyes upon him whilst he spoke. “To insult the Warden of the South by turning him away would be a mistake I believe…” a chorus of agreement and some mutterings rose behind his back but Fane persevered “they have journeyed a long way to come here, you once sought an alliance with King Renly-- let them come and make their requests… Entertain them, listen to them, charm them if needs be but allow their party entry… We outnumber them, it’s not as though they’ll be foolish enough to try anything in our walls and if they do… We’ll teach them a lesson for it.” That earned a bout of laughter and rap of cups against long-tables in support. “But, your grace turning them away would be a grave mistake I believe.”

Robb’s bright Tully-blue eyes studied him from where he sat, taking every piece of advice and Catlyn also stepped forward to speak something in Robb’s ear. He seemed to make his mind up, “very well… Lord Savin, considering this was your proposal collect your men and ride to intercept their bannermen… Escort them here safely and we shall hear what it is they have to say.”

With the orders issued, Fane bowed low quickly “aye you’re Grace” and with that he turned and headed to gather his men.

Soon enough, Fane was astride his large 15-handed destrier leading the band of his men along the cobbled trails South along the banks of the Red Ford towards the last-known location of the knights from the Reach. The weather here was by far warmer to what he was used to back in Blackspire located on the shores of Long Lake and he was dressed in black leathers with some of his steel armour strapped on a black cloak draped about his shoulders his familial clasp hanging heavy on his chest. His band of men numbering twenty in total dressed similarly, plain and boring by Southern standards with their fancy colours and patterned clothing but these were no men of light entertainment, nor was this his full force just a band to safely see the Lords to their destination. Eventually, in the distance Fane spotted the familiar green banners and golden roses decorating them and spurred his horse on the thunder of hooves at his back as they approached slowing as they approached the rotund Mace Tyrell sat astride his horse infront of a decadent green and golden leaf wheelhouse containing his daughter and her handmaids. “Lord Tyrell,” Fane greeted giving a small dip of his head “I’ve been sent by the King in the North to escort you on your journey to Riverrun… I hope the journey has treated you well so far.”

Mace took one look at the young man who looked nothing more than a ranger to him, with no banners to to indicate his House sniffed a little down his nose and seemed to bluster a little about being Warden of the South and how he deserved a proper escort. That is before remembering himself and nodding “ah-- well, yes… Yes it’s been long but soon enough I’m sure it’ll be worth it to see the infamous Young Wolf! My Margy, she’s heard all the stories and is quite taken with him…”

“Aye, I’m sure” like most other maidens, but he left that unsaid as the other Lords rode up to see what was going on though he did pick out two women amongst them and his dark eyes lingered on them momentarily. It seemed like an age since he’d seen a woman after marching to war but such thoughts were soon replaced by courteousness or what were considered courtesies in the North “well-- no point freezin’ your balls or tits off here chin-wagging.”

That earned a scandalised look from a few of the Lords present who mumbled a few things about “uncouth savages”, “no manners” and “how dare they speak in such ways in the presence of women.” Either way from his own men it earned a rumble of laughter as he turned a tight circle his men who recognised what he wanted without him needing to give a direct order and riding to form two columns either side of the Lords. Soon enough they were on the move once more with Lord Tyrell droning on and on and on to anyone who would listen.

Though Fane eventually fell in beside the blonde and the other dark-skinned women beside her he’d noticed amongst the assembled Lords, “Lady Lacroy aye?” he glanced back over at Mace Tyrell who was still talking “I’m surprised none of you have fallen asleep yet listening to that drone.” Which earned a snicker from her handmaid though she stifled it with one hand and tried to keep a straight face.

Faye had seen the bannerman coming, rows of horses and armor and proudly thrust out chests covered in leather and mail. She’d waited, watching as Lord Tyrell and his daughter were greeted first, as they should be, by a man in black leathers. She could hear the Lord’s booming voice from where she sat on her dapple grey stallion, who pranced beneath her as the ranks of men started to file alongside them. The ranger’s - for that’s what she took him for - words merely caused Faye’s eyebrow to raise. Raised the only girl among three brothers, not much shocked her. Even less offended her. And if there was one thing she hated, it was men thinking she was some delicate flower like Margaery Tyrell. Someone who needed protecting. She loved Lady Tyrell, thought her an intelligent and resourceful woman, but she was no fighter. She was a rose. And Faye was the thorn.

Faye gave a roll of her eyes as Lord Tyrell kept talking. She turned her horse back to where her own men rode, taking her place at the front of the line as they headed towards Riverrun. She’d noticed the black clad ranger as he’d taken up a spot next to her, her horse trying to nip at his. A sharp, firm tug on the reins pulled him back into line, though not without an excess amount of tail flicking and head tossing. “Show off…” Faye muttered to the animal as she looked to her handmaiden as she tried to cover her laugh. “Yes,” she said in answer to the man’s question, though she only gave him a small amused look at his comment. “And you are…?”

Lord Mace Tyrell’s reaction was almost comical, how he could barely seat his horse and almost fell off in his bluster and commotion not that Fane made any real effort to correct him that he was speaking to an anointed knight. There was no real point, nor was it worth the effort to correct him even if he was tempted to see Mace grow even more red in the face. Soon enough the party was on the move again, making their way along the track which wound through open plains, forested trails but the rush of clear water at their sides a constant companion. The nature in itself was beautiful and Fane found himself breathing in the air as the wind brushed through his raven locks.

The departure of the woman was well-noted by Fane who keenly eyed the gathering of nobles in front of him and he was curious to learn more of her. After all, he’d heard of Brienne of Tarth even Arya Stark was a little spit-fire more interested in shooting bows than stitching threads. Falling into place alongside the two women his own steed merely nickered and gave a slight jerk of his head nostrils flaring as hers tried to nip him. Though both seemed to eventually settle with some direction from their respective riders although no such remark or comment was made by Fane as Faye did. The look was some sort of success he supposed, just a small quirk at the edge of her lips but he was interested in her. The only remaining heir to her house or so he knew from his studies.

“Stefan, of House Savin” again not that he bothered to clarify that he was Ser Stefan, Lord of House Savin after all who was he to correct these generally pompous Lords who looked down their noses at him. Whether she would figure it out was the puzzle after all or would it take a revelation back at Riverrun. Though something gave him the feeling this one was different, hence his curiosity. “Long journey I hear, King’s Landing to Riverrun… No hassle from the Lannister’s along the way?”

“It’s a pleasure, Stefan of House Savin. You’re already more agreeable company than most.” She didn’t presume that he was a Lord, but merely took him at face value. He seemed a ranger, and a ranger he would be. Besides, he didn’t seem to have a stick up his ass, and he had what seemed like a fairly decent sense of humor. And he was talking to her instead of leering at her or staring at her tits. He couldn’t be a Lord. At least none that Faye had ever met.

“No more than usual,” Faye said to his questions about the Lannisters. “They couldn’t very well hold us captive. Though I hear the Queen Regent wasn’t entirely happy with Lady Margaery. But what does make Cersei happy these days? Besides her brother’s cock?”

“M’lady,” Catarina, Faye’s handmaiden, said in a quiet hiss of shock.

“What? I doubt our companion has never heard the word ‘cock’ before, seeing as how he possesses one.” Catarina gave her another look, and Faye turned back to Stefan and sighed. “I apologize for my choice of words. And if I offended you.”

“Aye, I’d hope so, I know when to stop talking to stop company falling asleep” he lowered his voice so as not to let the other Lords riding nearby overhead “but call me Fane most do after all” Fane said as he righted himself in his saddle raising a hand to push back his hood letting it fall about his neck as he grasped the reins of his mount. His  features that were formerly cast in partial shadow revealed. His attention for the most part was on the woods and forest surrounding them, always vigilant for bandits or others out to try and cause hassle. You never could be too careful after all and he’d been charged with seeing them safely escorted after all.

Fane barked a hearty laugh at her joke turning a few heads in their direction with the sound, Fane ignored them instead opting to look at Faye with a mirthful grin that settled over his features. The grin only grew as her handmaid tried to get her to tone it down and the conversation that came after. “It’s a valid question” Fane turned his head aside and spat at the ground “still that brotherfucker’ll get what’s coming to her in time.”

He waved his hand at her apology, “no need, you’re right and what’s there to be offended about” though it did leave him eyeing her thoughtfully for a few moments. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t fit in all that well where you come from, aye? Are you sure you ain’t a Northerner?”

Faye gave a tip of her head. “Well, Fane, you have a pleasant voice at least,” Faye noted, “unlike some. Braying jackasses are more tolerable to listen to than half these windbags.” The way men droned on and on over the most ridiculous things ate away at Faye’s nerves. Who gives a shit if so and so’s castle in three quarters of a mile away instead of a half mile? Who really cares if the horse you’re looking at is 15 hands or 15 hands and an extra inch? Does it really matter? No. Not in the grand scheme. But men always had to fight over everything. Castles, lands, horses, honor, women.

Anything and everything was worthy of going to war over.

Case in point, and the reason for Faye being here now. Though at least this cause was a good one, and at least what she’d heard of King Robb had been positive so far. Other than he was young. Though youth hardly meant anything these days. She turned her head at his bark of laughter, shooting Catarina a look as well that said ‘see? He thinks I’m funny.’

“That she will,” Faye agreed, hands tightening marginally on her reins. “I’m glad the Tyrells finally saw sense. Though it took someone hurting their precious pride to get them to jump ship and find a better ruler to serve. Even if he is just a boy.” Faye’s words weren’t said with disrespect. It was merely a statement of fact. “Cersei Lannister has had a long time to grow into the evil cunt that she is. Let’s hope the King in the North knows that. Because she’ll cut off his head and put it on a pike to decorate her garden. Just because she can.”

They rode on down the trail, the sounds of the river and the sounds of horses’ hooves and jingling tack drifting back towards them. A gust of cold wind kicked up Faye’s cloak and made her shiver slightly. “No. I don’t,” she answered after a moment. “And no. I’m not a Northerner. It’s bloody cold here. I’m a Southern girl, born and raised. I’m not made for the ice and the snow. But I’ll bear it gladly,” she said, looking at him again. “If it means an end to tyranny.”

“A pleasant voice?” he echoed a little surprised but pleasantly so, “it’s been awhile since I’ve heard someone tell me anything like that… Been a while since I’ve heard anything half so nice, so thank you m’lady” he dipped his head in a small bow. If there was one thing he knew it was that more often than not men were stupid, after all when Robert had been wearing the crown who had been pulling the strings? Not that such measly things bothered him so far North but still, the point stood what were Kings and crowns good for besides getting people killed.

He made a slight sound of agreement, “from what we hear in the North you Southerners don’t mind being pricked all that much either so I’m sure it’s nothing they can’t nurse” though there was the matter of how easy the Tyrells and their bannermen turned their cloaks. “Seems to me they also do a lot of jumping ships,” there was a pointed look that came to his onyx eyes “answer me this m’lady and answer me frank why should we even consider whatever Mace Tyrell has to offer? How do we know he isn’t about to turn coat the moment things start going awry?” Much as her own words were spoken plainly his were too, a genuine sense of curiosity behind them and no doubt it was a question this band of Southerners would grow used to hearing posed to them.

Fane merely gave a slight lift of one shoulder, “aye, I think we’ve got a decent measure of her considering what she did to Ned Stark, held two of our own hostage and refused to return Lord Stark’s remains to us.”

Fane hardly seemed bothered by the weather, it was so warm down here in comparison to where he was from that the multitude of leathers seemed hardly worth it if not only for the sake of defence. His hair ruffled as he looked aside at her “aye, thought as much. Mind you we don’t get so many lady-knights like you, last I heard of was Brienne of Tarth or the women of Bear Island.” He mulled over her words before he spoke again taking a moment to pull a leather flask from his belt using his teeth to uncork it “still, I can respect that,” he took a sip before he offered it across. “won’t fill your belly but, it’ll warm you ‘n’ make you forget you’re hungry.”

“No need to thank me for the truth, but you're welcome.” she said, adjusting her cloak where it had blown over her shoulder. It was held together at her neck by two Phoenix, the sigil of Faye’s house, clasping beaks. Faye had thought Robert Baratheon a fool. At least the Mad King had had madness as an excuse. Robert had just been a slothful, disgusting womanizer. It was only his lifelong friendship to Eddard Stark that gave him any credit at all in her eyes.

Faye hummed at Fane's words, neither confirming or denying his opinion. But then came the matter of Mace Tyrell and his see-sawing loyalties. It was a valid question, the one he posed, and Faye took her time before answering. “Because Highgarden has more money than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. Because Mace Tyrell lacks a lot of things, but pride isn't one of them. He won't go back to Cersei. Not now that she's scorned him. The North need only make him feel important. Useful. Make him think good ideas are his ideas. And of course offer him full protection, the bloody coward, and you'll have him.”

Faye's face darkened at the mention of what had happened to Lord Stark. “That's bad blood she's calling up. He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die. He was a scapegoat. An example. Cersei waving her cock.” Fane knew all this, but Faye couldn't keep it to herself.

She gave a small laugh as he compared her to Brienne of Tarth. “I'm no true lady knight,” she said. “I'm barely a lady. My father raised me just  like he did my brothers. And I could only hope to compare to Lady Brienne or the women of Bear Island. But… for what it's worth… thank you.”

Faye took the offered flask with a nod of thanks, taking a long sip. She coughed a little as she handed it back. “No wonder you Northmen are so hairy… drinking that dragon piss.” She grinned though, letting him know she was kidding as her cheeks warmed from the drink.

“Money’s all well ‘n’ good,” wars were won with money after all “but a man of such means hardly inspires the sort of loyalty and confidence we look for in allies.” If there was one thing that could be said of Northerners is was that they were people of simple means, not all that interested in the politics South of the Neck. They were people who respected strength, strength of mind, strength of physicality and strength of character. Part of the reason they all looked to the Starks, they seemed to have decent measure of all three with justice and loyalty to boot. What more did anyone really want when looking for a new leader than a person who put the people first. Still, Faye echoed the sentiment he’d sold to the Lords earlier and it was a small comfort having measured this Southern Lord well enough to predict that this would likely be a decent course of action. “Still, I suppose we can only hope King Robb will see reason in this.”

Fane’s own features were drawn, neither giving nor taking any of his particular thoughts on the matter though his words spoke volumes about his thoughts of those with political agendas within King’s Landing. He merely huffed a little but made no further comment, the Lannisters, all of them would pay for the insult they brought to the North.

“You carry a sword and bow, you wear armour” Fane countered evenly “Brienne would bluster at anyone daring to call her a lady yet it doesn’t change that you are technically both such.” He meant nothing by the term, if anything it was an acknowledgement to their dedication and skill. “No need to thank me, if you ask me everyone should be able to defend themselves and their homes… But it’s not a commonly shared belief.”

A small smirk curled his lips as she coughed tucking it back into his belt under his cloak, “aye, we need all the warmth we can get. Better than that watered down piss you call ale down South though.”

Faye nodded, agreeing with Fane. “I hate politics,” Faye scoffed, frowning out at the river. “Especially the interhouse politics that say that just because I’m a woman I should want nothing more than to marry a wealthy Lord and have his children. That should be my lot in life. Do you know,” she looked at Fane, “how utterly mind-numbingly boring taking tea is? Needlepoint? I’d sooner stab my eyes out.”

Putting the people first should be a priority of every man or woman that held such a responsibility. But sadly, many simply spoke the words and didn’t back them up. Words and wind. That’s all it was. Until someone showed their true self through actions, Faye would keep her opinions closely guarded. “We can only hope,” Faye agreed once more.

“I do. And I suppose I am. But I’d rather sit here, on my horse, with my bow and sword to protect me than in that carriage.” She tipped her chin towards the one in which Lady Margaery rode. “Not that I fault her for it. We all have roles to play. Places we belong.” Faye’s face tightened, and her eyes grew unfocused. “Or no place at all.” She seemed to realize what she’d said as soon as she’d said it, because her cheeks flamed red. As he took back his flask, she plastered a smile on her face, though it turned more genuine as he teased her back. “I don’t drink ale. I drink wine. There’s nothing sweeter. Or more potent. Except maybe Dornish drink.”

“I don’t understand people who enjoy politics, I mean… I respect those who can turn the system to their advantage but all this backstabbing and treason?” Fane merely pulled a face, like most of his other Lords up here none of them sought any more power than what they each wielded in turn. There was less scheming and cunning because the lives they led relied on their mutual trust and loyalty. Life in the North was unforgiving for the unprepared, and as he’d often heard Ned Stark say himself the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. It was the mentality of the North. They stuck together, it was why he was dubious how these Southerners would fit in. But Faye it seemed understood this mentality better than the other assembled Lords he heard speaking nearby. “I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it… Though stabbing them out seems a tad excessive and like a waste of a pair of pretty eyes.”

His eyes drifted to the wheelhouse, aware the young Tyrell daughter; the same age as Robb coincidentally and apparently quite the beauty herself rode. Rumour had it she was quite a girl and Fane found himself curious about her but less curious than he was about his current companion. It wasn’t hard to miss the colour flaring in her features at her slip of the tongue, but he let it go not pressing further considering they didn’t really know one another. “You don’t drink ale, we don’t get much Dornish anything where I come from-- I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Dornishman as it is, probably afraid their cocks will freeze ‘n’ fall off considering it’s their prized possession… Wine’s good, but expensive so we tend to save it for particularly special occasions.”

“Yes! I mean… there needs to be a system in place, leaders and people in power who care about the people. Lords and Ladies, Kings and Queens… just be good to each other and the Gods will smile on us. But why must that be all their life is about? For fucks sake… go riding, go hunting, go explore the mountains or the seaside. Do you know how many books are in my father’s library that I’ve never read? How many works of art I’ve never seen? How many lands I've never been to? Gods… people just want war and power and bloodshed. What about… what about life? Love? Adventure?” Faye had dropped her reins now, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. Her mount paid no attention, keeping his steady pace forwards, used to his Mistress’ antics over the years. Faye seemed to catch herself again soon enough though, unused to having anyone but Catarina that would listen to her ramblings. The woman herself was riding along, a small smile on her face.

Though as he said she had pretty eyes, Faye looked over, and it seemed to make her remember herself. She dropped her hands and took up her reins again. “Apologies. I forgot where we were.”

“What man’s cock isn’t his prize possession?” she asked, continuing to look ahead. “And they look the same as any man. Full of pride and deceit and lust. No offense meant to present company. I’m sure you’re an honorable gentleman.” Faye knew better than to judge a man, or anyone, by their outward appearance. Though Fane seemed to speak true. He seemed genuine, and that was a rare thing indeed.

“As it turns out, I just happen to have a few bottles of Dornish red in my supply wagon. Perhaps I’ll share. It’ll keep you warmer than ale, I can promise you that.”

His brow lifted a bit, it seemed as though he’d struck a topic of passionate belief in the woman beside him not that it really surprised him. Though the outburst in itself was a touch unexpected that he would admit. “Part of the reason we named Robb our king, he cares about the North and doesn’t really give much of a fuck about the rest of the seven Kingdoms… He’s our King because we chose him not because he picked up a crown and declared himself a regent.” Whilst he fully supported her belief things in this world simply didn’t work like that. “Love hardly has anything to do with it for nobles.” Her wild gesticulations drew some attention of the nearby Lords who gave a few jeers and turned their heads away but Fane continued to listen with interest.

There was a wry smile on his lips as she apologised and he chuckled, “oh you’re quite alright. Hardly like you don’t speak the truth.”

He gave a small snort of a laugh at her continued barb, ah he did admire that sort of fire and life in a person. “Oh you never know,” Fane shrugged but gave her a bit of a sly grin “I could be an absolute scoundrel for all you know. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about us Northerners being... wild and I’m not just talking generally.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes but he made no particular advance, just light-hearted teasing “Savin roughly translates to savage so… maybe it says something about the people associated with it ‘n’ the Lord of the house himself.”

His interest did perk up however at the mention of wine, “oh see that there, that is the way to a man’s heart. If you are willing to share I’d be fully appreciative of it I assure you.”

“If only everyone could just worry about themselves and their people, help their neighbors, and not have the desire to crush the entirety of Westeros under their heel.” It was a dream, Faye knew, for war to end. She’d only ever been a part of a few small skirmishes, after the death of her brothers, but she didn’t think herself a leader. She certainly was no commander. She merely had the fortune - or misfortune - to be the last of her father’s line. And while her father was still head of house, Faye was in line for his seat. She didn’t want it, she just wanted to live her life in peace, but sometimes, as Fane had said earlier, your family and your house came first.

“A chosen King doesn’t necessarily make him a good one,” Faye said, and left it at that. She would see King Rob for herself, and set her own judgement on the man. “And I’m well aware that love has nothing to do with much of anything in this life. My father’s tried to marry me off three times. To say I strongly protested is putting it lightly.” Her face clouded. She couldn’t run from that duty - because yes, as much as she hated it, it was her duty to carry on her family name - forever. Time was against her now, at her age. She wasn’t old by any means, but most women she knew had married and had children at ten years her junior. Faye just… she couldn’t. Not yet.

“You could be.” She turned to look at him again. “Or maybe not. You don’t particularly look like a savage.” Her gaze took in his dark leathers and his slightly wild hair. “Though I’ve met enough Lords and their men to know that the two aren’t necessarily the same type of person. Though like calls to like, doesn’t it? Perhaps your Lord is a savage. Perhaps he carries a war hammer instead of a sword. Rides a great bear instead of a horse. Wears the skin of his enemies instead of armor. Perhaps he’s a tyrant in his own right. Just less a tyrant than Cersei.”

Faye turned back to the road. “Perhaps,” she said of the wine, but a small smirk lifted one corner of her mouth.

They rode on, chatting back and forth, until the walls of Riverrun came into view. “Bit less impressive that King’s Landing, isn’t it?” she commented, though it was merely in jest. If Faye never saw the walls of that place again, she would die happy. “I suppose this is where we part, Fane.” The company was starting to break apart slightly. “Thank you for your company. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

A little piece of Faye hoped so, he had been pleasant to talk to, though she let the feeling flutter away in the cold wind, knowing that the world didn’t work that way. It didn’t work that way at all.

“Well, he’s a damn better one than any I’ve seen in the past generation so I’ll take what we have” he countered with an idle shrug. Robb was fair and just, young yes but with the council of those around him there wasn’t far he could really go wrong. At least not in Fane’s eyes, he was a Stark and that had to count for something. These Southerners would see with time. As she spoke of refusing to marry he looked at her for a long while, but decided to save those questions for another time.

There was a slightly private smile which came at her words about the Lord of his house being a savage but it could simply be passed off as enjoying the weather and scenery of the forest around them. Oh little did she know. “A bear? Oh yes, he rides a cave bear with a great scar down its left eye-- he carrouled that beast and uses it as his mouth just as King Robb rides his Direwolf into battle” he’d heard the rumours the Southerners told of Robb and it was rather laughable even if Grey Wind was indeed almost the size of a smaller mount himself. “I suppose you’ll have to make your mind up when you meet him. Though we have less tyrants between us than you in the South do I’d say.”

As they approached the castle and encampments around it, Fane merely gave a slight shrug of his shoulders “smells less of shit than I hear King’s Landing does.” Still her parting remark earned a smile, “aye, and you’re welcome m’lady perhaps we will…” Oh they certainly would, Fane was sure of that.

With that, Fane spurred his horse on to the head of the party and when they finally entered the courtyard of the castle he dismounted. “My lords, my lady… If you’d be so kind as to follow me, I’m sure you’re weary and we shall see you housed in due time.” His own men dismounted and came to take the horses of the party to be stabled and housed whilst Mace Tyrell went to help Margaery out of her wheelhouse. Fane couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the beauty, which she was for certain with her hair loosely braided in a Northern style he noted. A deliberate act no doubt. Still, no point delaying and soon enough he was walking through to the room where Robb sat with the open bronze circlet nestled atop his auburn curls, handsome no doubt but he wore a stern expression that told little of his thoughts and Grey Wind lurked at his feet. The sight of the wolf startled several of the Southern Lords and a few snickers went up from the Northern lords gathered. After all, there had been plenty of rumour about Robb being a warg, and particularly about the monstrous beast he called a companion.

The Greatjon a great beast of a man, with thick hair and a beard to match stepped forwards his voice booming across the hall “you stand before Robb of House Stark, rightfully declared King in the North and King of the Trident.”

Fane smiled a little at the tall man, bowing gracefully before righting himself and gesturing to each Lord when he introduced them “your Grace, may I present Lord Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South, Lord Fossoway, Lord Hightower, Lord Tarly, Lord Rowan, Lady Lacroy and Lady Margaery Tyrell.”

Robb looked at each Lord in turn but as Lady Margaery was introduced his eyes lingered on her, seeming interested but doing his best to keep his features schooled. He spoke then, his voice smooth and eloquent but with a familiar rough Northern accent “welcome Lord Tyrell, sers, and my ladies” he greeted each in turn before pausing to look aside at where Fane had gone to stand. “Thank you Lord Savin, I appreciate your swiftness with escorting our guests here. I hope the journey wasn’t too unkind?”

“Not at all your Grace, an easy ride if ever I’ve had one” Fane replied with a genuine smile that earned a nod of acknowledgement from the King.

“Good,” he looked aside “Lord Karstark see to it our guests are shown to their rooms and food made ready for them whilst I speak with Lord and Lady Tyrell. Give us the hall sers,” he spoke to his own Lords then before then finally looking to Fane “and Lord Savin, please retire and get yourself some food for your efforts” the Northern Lords filed out, Lord Karstark nodded and gestured for the other Southern Lords and Lady to follow him. Fane also bowed backing up but not before catching Faye’s eye and giving her a slightly cheeky smile as they both departed the hall.

“I can’t argue with that,” Faye agreed. Robb Stark was certainly a better man than most recent holders of such power had been. The Starks had always been a good family. Fair and just. Respected. But not feared. Not like the Lannisters. Who were anything but fair and just. So Faye silently hoped the boy King was all she had heard he was.

Faye only gave a half smile at his story. But again, she had to agree with him about the tyrants. And nodded as such. “It does. There’s air here, air you can breathe and not choke on. Cold air, but good air.” She pushed a strand of hair back from her face, giving him a nod as he spurred his horse on ahead. Faye watched him go, a strange wondering left floundering in her chest.

“Careful m’lady,” Catarina said, moving her horse closer once more. She too watched the receding back of the man in the black leathers. “There’s trouble there.”

Faye looked at her handmaiden, frowning. She and Catarina looked at each other for a long moment before Faye spurred her own horse ahead to meet the others that would be taken to see King Robb. “No… there’s not,” she said over shoulder, the finality of her words ringing through the cold air.

Catarina sighed and shook her head. There’s was always trouble.

A bit later, Faye slid off her horse and he was led away to the stables to be fed and watered and rested, and she fell in line with the other Lords and Lady Tyrell. None of them spoke to her, though Faye inclined to head to Lady Margaery as they saw each other. Inside River Run, Faye’s first impression of Robb Stark was that he looked like a boy. A boy sat in a man’s seat, with a man’s power, and a King’s crown upon his head. That being said, he held himself well, and when he spoke, welcoming them, Faye gave a bow of acknowledgement, just as she had when they’d been introduced a few moments prior by her riding companion.

Who apparently wasn’t a ranger after all.

She met his eyes as they were all asked to leave, and raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t until she approached him in the hall, lingering behind the other as they followed Lord Karstark, that she spoke. “Lord Savin, is it? Of Blackspire? And here I thought you were a ranger,” she said so that only he could hear her, though her voice was edged with humor.

The look of dawning realisation upon not only Faye’s features, but the other Lords upon being thanked was rather comical. They all, much like Faye had presumed him to be nothing more than mud under their respective boots just a lowly ranger sent out to get them from point A to B as efficiently as possible and their rather general disregard beyond a passing few words could have been seen as quite the sleight. But Fane was hardly one to kick up a fuss, so long as they minded out of his own business he didn’t really mind all that much what these Southern Lords did so long as it didn’t put his own men and people at risk.

He’d departed upon request of Robb, and had been caught up in a few passing words with Lord Glover about the general state of things before the other Lord grew quiet and said something about speaking later. Sensing another presence he turned a slight grin passing his features as she addressed him correctly. “Aye,” his eyes crinkled a little in mirth “that’s me and well, you’re not entirely wrong. I am a ranger, but I’m a Lord more prominently.”

His humour seemed to mimic her own, “I hope you’re not disappointed that I don’t wear the skin of my enemies as armour or ride a great bear into battle… Bears don’t like me much, unless they’re a Mormont, in which case they’re not half so grizzly.”

Faye didn’t miss the way Lord Glover stopped speaking as she came up behind him and Lord Savin. Her eyes followed the man as he headed off, but she soon turned her attentions back to the man still standing next to her. “It’s not nice to lie to a Lady, m’Lord.”

She looked him over as they walked, the soft swish of her cloak muffling her bootfalls. “Maybe a little. Though I will say that black suits you better than skin. Other skin, that is. Not your own.” Faye huffed. “Nevermind.” A few of the passing Lords gave her a look, even going so far as to look back over their shoulders at her before scoffing and turning away. Faye glared daggers at their backs.

“Why’re you talking to me?” she asked, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. “No one else does.”

“I never lied, you merely assumed I just didn’t choose to correct you” Fane pointed out giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “Plus, it was quite amusing watching you all realise after the fact” he grinned much like he had earlier, by no means offended by the lack of recognitions “and please, it’s Fane. M’lord is so stuffy and pretentious” he shook his head never particularly having been all that fond of the title itself.

His own cloak hung heavy, the material weather-worn but her words caused his brows to raise towards his hairline thoroughly amused by where this conversation had suddenly taken a turn towards. “Oh, I don’t know… I think my own skin looks pretty good, granted I prefer having a drink before we get to that part, though that reminds me you did offer wine if that offer is still going?” He was teasing, and his eyes glittered merrily as they walked not even bothering to pay the other Lords around them heed.

The question was a good one, and he mulled over it. “I like you and find you interesting? I think those are two valid reasons aye? Plus, you failed to recognise me and I feel oh so slighted by that” he was joking having adopted a slightly dramatic tone when he spoke “so, drinks would go a long way to making amends don’t you think, hm?”

“Well, for that I apologize.” Another raised eyebrow was shot his way. “Like to see people squirm do you? Fane?”

As he countered her words, Faye blushed, though she looked away as she felt her cheeks flame, hoping the dim light of the corridor would shield it from him. Though her skin was tanned from the southern sun, she flushed easily. “Perhaps,” she said to try and cover the blush as well. “Though I could say that’s highly inappropriate of you, considering your standing. And considering I’m not wed. Very scandalous.” A few heads turned towards them, but Faye ignored them.

Instead she focused on what Fane was saying. That he found her interesting. “Is that because I’m a novelty for you? Or is that a genuine like? As in… perhaps we could call each other friend some day?” She laughed out loud as he mentioned the wine again. “I see .your game now. You’re only interested in my wine.” They walked a bit longer, a few of the Lords being shown off to their quarters. “If you’d like, I might spare you a bottle. But only if you let me share it.”

“Aye,” the affirmation was drawled and deliberately drawled out that similar glimmer seeming to remain sparkling in the darkness of his eyes “I love seeing people squirm” though the tone of his voice when he spoke that sentiment suggested he really wasn’t just talking about a few misdirections and misconceptions of identity.

His grin became almost wolfish as she blushed, feeling rather satisfied that he could cause such a reaction from her even if it was all light-hearted fun and needling. “I did warn you, my name means uncouth and savage-- if you’re looking for appropriate behaviour I am certainly not the man you want to befriend.” Not to say he was a very scandalous person, though there were more than enough rumours about him in kind that really he didn’t mind all that much anymore. “Have a virtue to protect hm? Though, I could argue that it was you who brought up my skin in the first place” he countered knowing very well he in a way had her on this matter.

“Novelty?” he echoed seeming a little confounded by such a notion, “not at all. No,” he assured growing more sincere then “as I said earlier-- you remind me of several very capable women some of whom I know others only through tales but... I find you interesting because not many really deserve the sort of respect that comes from earning your position considering it’s handed to most like us… not earned…” The last bit was said more quietly, just for her to hear not particularly wishing to offend any of their guests. “I mock you not m’lady. You’ve carved a different path for yourself and that in itself makes me… curious about you. I do, genuinely hope we can be friends if not today then one day… That is if you forgive my highly inappropriate humour.” He had the decency to look wounded for all of a second before his smile soon returned, “who said it was just the wine I was interested in?” he paused but eventually added on “no but seriously, I’m joking, though whether I share or not depends on how good the wine is.”

As Lord Karstark showed the last of the Lords to their rooms he figured he might as well take Faye and Cat to theirs “I’ll show them the way m’lord” Fane said to Lord Rickard who looked between the trio before decidedly washing his hands of them and letting them on their way down the corridor towards a door that he opened and held for the two women.

Faye hummed as they walked, smirking at his humor and how easily it seemed to flow from him. It was unusual to find someone, especially in his position, that took a lighter approach to life. Times were serious, as was his position as a Lord, but life was about more than politics and brooding and barking orders and war. What was all the fighting and death for if not so people could live and prosper and be happy? Faye would argue that point until her last breath. And she didn't care who didn't agree.

She returned his look as her blush faded. “Who said I wanted to befriend you, m’Lord?” she asked. She was teasing him, and using his title merely because he had asked her not to. It was nice to meet someone that spoke to her like she wasn't an imbecile. Like she was more than a pretty face in leathers. “And my virtue is my own, thank you.” In this she spoke true; it was literally her own. She was no trembling waif, but she'd never known the true touch of a man, other than a few fumbling antics in her youth and the occasional - mostly - innocent tryst in her adult years. But for all intents and purposes she was still untouched. Her sheets would still stain red on her wedding night. But that truly was none of Lord Savin’s business, so Faye was glad when the conversation moved on.

She dipped her head. “You're very kind. I never wanted this,” she gestured vaguely at herself. “The responsibility. But… it's fallen to me. And I'll do my best to be the person my house deserves.” Smiling over at him, genuinely this time. “I’d like that. Truly. You intrigue me as well, Fane. A Lord who doesn't think himself the center of the the world. As for your humor, well, it's refreshing. In its way.” The rest of his comments were met with low laughter. “I suppose we'll see then, won't we?”

Faye ignored the disparaging look of Lord Karstark, and they were escorted to their rooms, Fane holding the door for her and Catarina. Faye paused a moment as her hand maiden entered first. “I suppose I'll see you this evening then?” she asked, pulling her cloak around her. “If I don't freeze to death before then.”

There was plenty of seriousness in him, but it was hard not to want to talk lighter topics with someone he hoped to consider a new acquaintance. War had taken its fair toll on everyone and if he was honest, Fane was tired of it. Yet, it seemed there was no end on the horizon and so he trudged on to wherever this road might potentially lead in the end. “You did bring up whether you could call me a friend earlier, so I’d say you did” he pointed out with a hint of a smile playing at his features well aware she was teasing but playing along anyway.

His brow quirked slightly at her words, not sure whether he believed that or not but letting it go anyway. She had no particular reason to lie after all. “None of us wanted this, well, we didn’t want this but what can you do but do as is expected of you.” There were hardly very many successful tales of people breaking the molds and living to tell the tale after all. With Lord Karstark left in their wake he lingered in the doorframe as Faye and Cat entered.

“Aye, m’lady” he dipped his head before casting a look over to the firepit “a fire will help stave off the chill of travel and some food in your belly will help too.” He needed to go and clean up anyway but the prospect of seeing her later did earn a smile, “but aye, I’ll be around for dinner. It’d be nice to speak more with you” figuring this was as good a time as any he took her hand lowered himself into a bow and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Have a good evening ‘til then.” With that said, Fane backed up and turned to head for his own chambers within the castle to get a bath and remove the mud from riding.

“What can you do,” Faye agreed quietly. Her own thought were morosely drawn to the future that would one day be hers. She would have to marry, lest her house die with her and her father. There was no getting around it. Faye had been able to skirt that responsibility for years, but she was growing older, as was her father. Soon there would be only two choices, and even Faye, who hated the idea of marrying for anything other than love, wouldn’t let her house down.

“I’m sure it will.” She let him take her hand and felt herself blushing as he pressed a kiss over her riding glove. “I’d like that. And you as well, m’Lord.” Faye watched him go until he disappeared, and then closed and locked the door behind her. Catarina, who was already taking off her cold and wet things, simply gave her another strange look. “Hush,” Faye said, and that was the end of it.

[othercat2]

fic: (they flow from form to form) 13/?

==>Karkat: attend a tea party

Karkat is working on his homework on Friday evening, both his actual school homework, and reading assignments in the beginner magic book and the cultist “bible” given to him by Osiris. There was apparently going to be a quiz at some point. The mythology is pretty interesting with descriptions of the realm of the gods, stories about the creation of the First Cities, the adventures of heroes. He also has to read the chapter on his Aspect, and memorize its attributes and interactions with the other Aspects. (Dad had been given similar “homework,” and spent a lot of time talking comparative religions with Osiris the night before in a “memo” over Pesterchum.)

He’s thinking about stopping for the night, when he gets a Pesterchum alert.

[gayAuxiliatrix (GA) is pestering carcinoGeneticist (CG)]

GA: Karkat Are You Doing Anything This Weekend?

CG: JUST STUDYING FOR FINALS WHY?

GA: I Was Wondering If You’d Like To Come To My House For Lunch But Also For Lessons Concerning Certain Duties The High Priestess May Have Mentioned.

CG: SHE DID MENTION SOMETHING ABOUT DUTIES. RITUALS AND BLESSINGS.

CG: UH. DO ANY OF THESE RITUALS INVOLVE KILLING CHICKENS OR SOMETHING?

GA: Says The Person Who Had No Problem Eating My Mother’s Fried Chicken.

CG: OKAY POINT. BUT STILL IS ANIMAL SACRIFICE INVOLVED?

CG: SO I CAN LIKE PREPARE MYSELF.

GA: There Are Certain Seasonal Sacrificial Rites, Where The Meat Of The Sacrificed Animal Is Later Consumed During A Feast. Blood-Letting Is Common For Some Priestly Rituals And As You Are Aware, Humans Are Offered Directly To the Gods.

GA: No Animal Sacrifice Will Be Taking Place. There Will Be Small Fancy Sandwiches, Deviled Eggs, Strawberry Shortcake and Tea.

CG: A TEA PARTY. SERIOUSLY?

CG: WILL THERE BE OTHER GUESTS? YOUR DOLL COLLECTION MAYBE?

CG: FORGET I SAID THAT. IT WAS KIND OF SHITTY AND YOU’RE TRYING TO HELP.

GA: How Did You Know I Collected Dolls?

CG: I DIDN’T I WAS JUST RIFFING OFF OF THE LITTLE GIRL TEA PARTY THING WHICH AGAIN WAS KINDA SHITTY OF ME.

GA: And The Comment About Animal Sacrifice Wasn’t.

CG: OKAY I’M SORRY ABOUT THAT TOO. I CAN COME OVER SATURDAY, I GUESS.

GA: I Will Email You Directions.  

CG: OKAY. SEE YOU SATURDAY.

GA: See You.

[gayAuxiliatrix (GA) is no longer pestering carcinoGeneticist (CG)!]

“Smooth move Karkat,” he sighs. “You are the master of tact and diplomacy.” There was probably a better way he could have asked about animal sacrifice. Now there was a weird line of thought. Or maybe the thought wasn’t much weirder than anything else. Food offerings were one thing; he wasn’t bothered by the idea. Animal sacrifice was another thing, even if you were going to be eating the chicken or whatever later. If he had explained it that way, maybe the conversation would have gone a little better.    

It was a little unsettling to feel this worried--this guilty--about Kanaya being upset. It made him wonder if he felt this because of some kind of outside influence. As if something or someone was pushing him to become part of one big happy family of sister-brother spouses and the Gods. He sat there for a few minutes in front of the computer, and tried to figure out the inside of his brain. How would he know if he were being influenced?

This is hard. It isn’t like there’s some kind of map or guide. This was his mind. This was looking for something outside that might be manipulating him. Would he even be able to tell? Karkat remembers being handled, moved from one unfathomable Presence to another. Being a tiny speck inspected by Beings so much larger than he was he couldn’t understand it. There had just been the terrifying awareness that They could destroy him without even intending to. That They were being as delicate and careful as They could, but it had just barely been enough; his brains had still ended up scrambled by the contact.

How scrambled would his brains end up being from being “married” to unfathomable eldritch entities?

Still sitting at his desk, he takes a deep breath, and another. In his head, there are red lines, paths. They show up starkly in the dark behind his eyelids. They pulse with a familiar beat, the sound of his heart. There’s a line connecting him to his Dad, who is doing some studying of his own, in his own room. There’s a line, still present that goes to his mother. He can’t touch it, but it’s there. There’s other lines connecting him to people he’s met, and he can sense that there are more lines connecting them to each other. It’s like a net, but also like a stream. (Like veins and arteries carrying blood, being pumped by a heart through a body.)

There’s a line that goes to Sollux. If he touches it, he can sense that Sollux is playing video games with his dad. There’s some trash talking going on, and Karkat smiles, cheered by the bright line between Sollux and his father. Sollux’s lines go to his father, his great great grandfather, his family, friends and people that are too far away for Karkat to see. He can see how the Captors fit into the town, a little. Doom predicts disasters, disharmony. They’re an early warning system, they’re the IT Department. They’re the Engineers of That Which Prevents Catastrophe.

Sollux stops trash talking midsentence and frowns. “Karkat?”

Karkat startles, suddenly coming awake, a little disoriented and confused. Maybe an hour had passed, according to the clock. There’s a message window from Sollux hovering on the monitor.

TA: wa2 that you ju2t now?

CG: MAYBE?

TA: there i2 no maybe that wa2 a ye2 or no que2tiion.

CG: I WAS TRYING SOMETHING BUT I NOTICED YOUR LINE INSTEAD, SO I TOUCHED IT SO YEAH?

TA: my liine?

CG: I’M SEEING ALL OF THESE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN ME AND OTHER PEOPLE. AND MORE LINES OR PATHS FURTHER OUT. I TOUCHED YOURS, BUT I GUESS YOU SENSED ME? SORRY.

TA: welp.

[twinArmageddons (TA) invited diarchicAccensor (DA) to memo “blood power2 actiivate!”]

[twinArmageddons (TA) invited carcinoGeneticist (CG) to memo “blood power2 actiivate!”]

TA: TA: wa2 that you ju2t now?

CG: MAYBE?

TA: there ii2 no maybe that wa2 a ye2 or no que2tiion.

CG: I WAS TRYING SOMETHING BUT I NOTICED TOUCH YOUR LINE INSTEAD, SO YEAH?

TA: my liine?

CG: I’M SEEING ALL OF THESE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN ME AND OTHER PEOPLE. AND MORE LINES OR PATHS FURTHER OUT. I TOUCHED YOURS, BUT I GUESS YOU SENSED ME? SORRY.

TA: welp.

[diarchicAccensor (DA) banned twinArmaggedons (TA) from memo “blood power2 actiivate” reason: “student consultation”]

[twinArmageddons (TA)’s away message: “II wa2 goiing to leave the memo anyway gramp2” ]

DA: What were you trying to do?

CG: I UH

CG: I WAS TRYING TO SEE IF THERE WAS A WAY TO TELL IF SOMEONE WAS MESSING WITH MY HEAD.

DA: Reading a little ahead or just worried?

CG: WORRIED. I’M NOT SURE OF WHAT I’M FEELING ABOUT ANYTHING. I DON’T TRUST ANYTHING, BUT AT THE SAME TIME I’M JUST ACCEPTING WHAT’S GOING ON, AND I FEEL INVESTED IN CONTINUING THIS WHATEVER IT IS?

DA: The good news is that if you are worried about being made to feel a certain way, you probably haven’t been replaced by a pod person.

DA: But there are ways to make sure.

DA: The bad news is, a sufficiently powerful entity could be making you feel a certain way, and you wouldn’t know it or be able to tell.

DA: So if you’re worried about the Gods doing something, I can’t help you there, or even reassure you, because I’m part of what you don’t trust.

CG: SORRY

DA: Kid, I’d be surprised if you weren’t suspicious. You’re okay. You’ve got good reason to be suspicious and worried, especially how you found out about the cult.

DA: Now, let’s skip ahead a few chapters, and take a look at veiling and other forms of memory alteration Blood is usually pretty resistant to veiling, your Dad being a prime example.  

Osiris walks him through a lesson on memory alteration and detection. Karkat takes notes and asks questions. At the end of it, he’s still worried, but he has information and knows a little more about how the Aspects interact with each other. The impromptu lesson takes about an hour, and Osiris signs off with telling him to call him or text him if he has any other questions.

Karkat logs out of Pesterchum at the end of it and retreats to his bed to review his notes and the chapter. He falls asleep like that, surrounded by notes, the book resting on his chest. His dreams are full of disjointed action movie sequences that aren’t in the least symbolic or presentiments.

He sleeps in the next day, and when he wakes up he checks his email, and finds that Kanaya had sent him the directions to her house, and also what time he was supposed to show up. After dressing and brushing his teeth, he wanders downstairs where his dad is in his office, working on the computer. “Kanaya invited me over to her house for lunch,” he says.

Dad looks up from his computer. “Lunch huh? What time, and when will you be back?”

“Kanaya said eleven thirty,” Karkat says. He starts to head to the living room but Dad calls him back.

Dad doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Kanaya is one of the ‘Spouses,’ isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s about a year ahead of me,” Karkat says.

Karkat hears Dad think “Child marriage…” with extreme disapproval. He says “will anyone else be there?”

“I don’t think so, maybe her mom?”

“I think I’d like to speak to her mother, before you go,” Dad says. His tone is very I mean business, and Karkat can sense how worried Dad is so he doesn’t even offer a token protest. He gives Dad Kanaya’s number and heads into the living room.

(He really wants to listen in on that call.)

The crow is sitting on the entertainment center, preening itself. “Okay, so are you actually Time, or just His pet death omen?” Karkat asks after staring at it.

“Time had a thought

that winged its way

through the heat of day

what it sought no one knew

soaring in the burning blue

‘til the sun burnt it black,”

the crow says.

“I’m guessing that poem sounds better in the original unspeakable eldritch tongue.” Karkat says. He sits down, turns on the TV and flips through the channels. He can hear Dad talking, but not what he’s saying. Blood was apparently not necessarily a good Aspect for eavesdropping on spoken conversations.

“Enochian,” the crow says, and flaps over to the couch, landing on the arm.

“Really?”

“No.”

There is absolutely nothing on. He ends up watching a horrifying Vegan cooking show on PBS. Dad eventually ends the call about fifteen minutes later and comes out of the office. He stares at the crow, who is now perched on the back of the couch. The crow stares back. “I have no idea how he’s getting inside,” Karkat says.

Dad sighs. “I talked to Ms. Maryam, Kanaya’s mother. She seems like an interesting woman. I don’t have any objection to you going, but try to get home by three.”

“Okay,” Karkat says.

The crow wants to come with, perching first on Karkat’s shoulder, then on the bars of Karkat’s bike. It stretches its whole body out and flaps its wings as Karkat pedals. There’s a few other people on bikes, a small horde of runners, people out walking their dogs. People see him and wave and Karkat waves back.

He’s about a block away when someone suddenly steps out from behind a bush and sticks something in the spokes of the front wheel of Karkat’s bike. Karkat has a brief impression of kid, younger than me, t-shirt before the bike crashes. The crow squawks and flaps as the bike goes down. It flings itself at the kid, who takes off running.

Karkat tries to get up, but finds that the shoelaces of his right shoe have wound themselves around the crank arm. There is something weird going on with his front wheel, though it’s hard to tell from the angle he’s lying in. He thinks he’s mostly bruised and scraped up. Karkat works on getting himself free of the bike. “Need any help?” Karkat looks up and sees a blond kid his own age wearing a t-shirt and cut offs. The kid’s wearing shades, and his hair isn’t so much blond as it is stark white, and actually more like feathers than hair.

Karkat stares, blinks, and the feathers are hair again. “Sure,” he croaks.

Time helps him unwind his shoelaces from the crank arm, and then get the bike upright. The wheel is definitely crooked and some of the spokes are actually broken. “Looks like you’re going to need to get the wheel replaced.”

“What just happened?” Karkat asks, frowning at Time.

“The kid stuck a stick in the spokes of your wheel,” Time replies with exaggerated patience.

“No I mean, was that a part of,” Karkat waves his hand. “Politics, or just some random little shit?”

“Not so random little shit,” Time says. “If it were ‘politics’ there would have been more of them.”

“Yay,” Karkat says sourly. “Can’t you do something? I mean this is all because they don’t want Feferi to be High Priestess right, can’t you tell them to knock it off?”

“Humans are always very obedient and do what they’re told by their gods,” Time says. “That’s what they’re best known for, yep.”

The dry sarcasm made Time seem surprisingly human. Time wasn’t human though, He was an unknowable elder god. Karkat’s very aware of that when he asks, “so, what happened to the kid?”

“The crow just ran him off,” Time says.

“Why is he ‘not so random’?” Karkat asks.

“Because he doesn’t live on this end of town, and he doesn’t know anyone on this end of town, but that’s no reason for him not to be walking ‘round,” Time says. “Little ball of Rage and impulse, it might have been free will, it might have been a push.”

Karkat frowns. “So it might or might not be politics after all, is what you’re saying, am I right?”

Time shrugs. “Something like that.”

Time won’t answer any further questions about the kid, but he does help Karkat get the bike to Kanaya’s house. Karkat’s about fifteen minutes late and Kanaya is waiting for them on the front porch, looking worried. “Karkat, what happened? Are you okay?” she asks, hurrying up to him.

“Someone decided to crash my bike,” Karkat says. “‘Politics’ may or may not be involved; Time was kind of cagey about answering question.” He almost expects a comment from Time, but Time has disappeared. There isn’t even a crow hanging out in one of the trees in Kanaya’s front yard.

“You can leave the bike on the porch,” Kanaya says. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.”

Karkat follows her inside once the bike is up on the porch. Her house has wood floors and there are a lot of pictures on the walls. Some of them are family portraits, but a lot of them are paintings. Still life and landscapes, and a few that Karkat realizes are religious; Believer-religious, anyway. His attention is caught by one painting featuring a boy holding a severed head cradled under one arm, and a bloody sword in his other hand. “That’s Time,” Kanaya says helpfully. “Sometimes when He’s depicted as human, He’s shown holding His Brother’s head, or his body.”

“They uh seemed like They get along though?”

“They do,” Kanaya says. “See how carefully He’s holding Heart’s head?” She herds him into the bathroom, and shows him the medicine cabinet. “Heart is the Destroyer of Souls; sometimes the soul He destroys is His. Time is a God of Self-Sacrifice but sometimes He sacrifices Others.”

“Why would Heart destroy His soul?” Karkat asks.   

“A God of Destruction isn’t necessarily a god of disasters,” a woman’s voice says. She steps into the bathroom doorway, Kanaya moving aside to give her room. She’s tall and dark haired like Kanaya, and looks enough like her that Karkat guesses this must be her mother. She’s wearing paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt. She had tattoos; long curling shapes that wound up her arms. “The Destroyer seeks to discover and sweep away flaws. Sometimes, those flaws are His Own. Time and Heart together has a number of metaphysical meanings that might be too boring to go into right now.” The woman smiles. “I’m Porrim, Kanaya’s mother. I’m sorry for not looking presentable enough for my daughter’s guest--”

“Mother,” Kanaya protests. “I never said you had to change clothes--”

“Sweetheart, you said ‘he’ll be here soon, are you going to wear that?’ It certainly sounded that way to me!” Porrim says to Kanaya, who looks embarrassed and flustered. “I was hit by inspiration for a project earlier this morning, and didn’t want to lose it,” she explains to Karkat.

“You’re an artist?” Karkat asks.

“Yes,” Porrim says with a smile. “Should we give you a little privacy while you clean yourself up?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Karkat says.

Porrim absconds, tugging her daughter along with her. Kanaya is still protesting that she hadn’t meant anything about the clothes Porrim was wearing. He can hear Porrim teasing her, and Kanaya continuing to protest, though she’s switched from “mother no,” to “mom stop it!”

Karkat cleans himself up as best he can, and bandages the more nasty looking scrapes. Kanaya is waiting for him in the living room, which has a huge leather couch and a couple of recliners placed around an entertainment center with a huge TV and sound system. There’s more paintings on the walls, and a variety of knickknacks. Porrim is nowhere in sight. “Mom’s gone back to her work room,” Kanaya says. “Everything’s ready to go out to picnic table.”

Karkat helps Kanaya carry trays of food, glasses paper plates and the tea (which it turned out to be iced sweet tea) out to the picnic table. The backyard is full of flowerbeds and a small vegetable garden, with a lot of shade from a couple of apple trees and a huge oak. The fence around the backyard is pretty high, and overgrown with vines. Near the picnic table is a barbecue grill. He sits down, and Kanaya sits across from him. “What happened on your way here?” she asks, putting deviled eggs and sandwiches onto a plate.

Karkat makes a plate for himself, and pours himself some tea as he explains about riding his bike and the kid that had jumped out and crashed his bike.

“Were you able to see who it was?” Kanaya asks.

“Not really, some kid,” Karkat says. “Time said that the crow just chased the kid off.”

“Did He say anything else?”

“Something about the kid being a ball of rage and fear,” Karkat says.

“Rage as in someone with that Aspect?” Kanaya asks.

“Maybe?” He thinks about it. “Probably. He didn’t tell me who it was or anything though. Just said that it was not so random’.”

“He might want you to find out on your own,” Kanaya says.

“Great another ‘quest’,” Karkat grumbles.

Kanaya gives him an interested look. “You were given a quest?” she asks.

“Yeah. Breath and apparently Light want me to find a dragon, and there’s something about a sickle.”

“The sickle of the one who defends,” Kanaya murmurs. “Have you spoken to Terezi at all lately?”

“Not since…everything happened. She hasn’t been to school.” He wants to ask about the sickle, but he’s distracted by what Kanaya says next.

“She was very upset,” Kanaya says.

“Well I was the one chained to a rock in the dark freezing my ass off,” Karkat says, not able to help the resentment or anger. “How the hell do you walk around in there in just skirts?”

“The temple is actually very warm,” Kanaya says. “It likely only felt cold to you, since you were an Outsider.”

“Still pretty much an Outsider,” Karkat says. He takes a bite out of the sandwich, which is thin slices of cucumber between buttered slices of crustless wheat bread. There’s also tuna fish sandwiches and tomato sandwiches and chicken salad sandwiches. “And I’d rather not go back to find out if there’s change in temperature.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Kanaya says. “Spouses all have Temple duties though. We open the festivals for each of the Gods, participate in the coronation of the High Priestess and walk with her in procession for solstice and equinox rites; we participate in the initiate ascension rituals for adepts and priests.” Kanaya describes each of the rites in detail. Festival opening seemed to be mostly a speech from each Spouse followed by an Aspect-themed blessing. The coronation and ascension rituals were a little more complicated and involved supervising fasting and vigils then “attending” the initiates by bathing and dressing them in ritual garments while praying over them.

“Do Spouses out rank priests or something?” Karkat asks.

“We’re more or less equal,” Kanaya says. “We have a more direct connection to the Gods. People come to us for things they can’t or won’t go to a priest for. Advice, a second opinion or ruling of a judgment or penance they didn’t like. People also come to us for mediation they don’t want to take to a priest or proceed secularly, or we might choose to meddle in the affairs of others.”

“Okay,” Karkat says. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It can be, Osiris says that it takes years before you’re really comfortable with the responsibility,” Kanaya says. “Would you like to learn some of the blessings?”

“Sure, why not,” Karkat says.

Kanaya teaches him some of the blessings, and talks about advice she’s given at school to other students. When it’s time to go, Porrim drives him home, with the bike in the back of her trunk.

<==

==>

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Time and Heart.

[leagueofbane]

“His behavior is unacceptable.”

Talia reveals to Bane the mischief their son has perpetrated, in this next installment of my fic THE DEMON’S LEGACY.

(This story is also available at Ao3 and FanFiction.net.)

Chapter 5

            “Oh, Jesus!” Barsad cried out.

           With satisfaction, Sanjana watched his naked form collapse backward where he sat on the edge of the bed. She swallowed what he had left behind in her mouth, then used the mattress to help her rise from her knees. While Barsad lay panting, eyes closed, she rinsed her mouth with a drink of water from a glass on the nightstand, then lay with her head on his chest.

           Sanjana studied his handsome, scruffy face with its high forehead, heavy-lidded eyes and long, straight nose. His thin lips, shaped like an archer’s bow, parted slightly to help him catch his breath after her oral ministrations. Pleased with her ability to gratify her lover, she could not help but smile at the satisfaction on his face. As if reading her thoughts, Barsad opened one eye. Her smile broadened into a small giggle, and she trailed her finger over his moist lips.

           “Proud of yourself, are you?” he teased.

           “I just enjoy seeing you happy. And back in our bed.”

           “Mmmm,” he sighed. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

           Barsad shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed, Sanjana’s pregnant belly tight against him. He kissed her and reached for a pillow upon which to rest their heads, then he put his arms around her, kissed her again.

           “You and your magic tongue,” he murmured.

           Sanjana scoffed lightly. “You are easy to please, my love, especially after you’ve been gone so long.”

           He closed his eyes and rested, languidly stroking her hair. “Has the baby settled down?”

           “Yes. The kicks have stopped.”

           “Good.”

           “He is strong, like his father.” Sanjana’s hand glided along Barsad’s powerful forearm.

           “He? Did you find something out while I was gone? I thought you didn’t want to know the baby’s sex.”

           “No, I didn’t find anything out, but more and more I feel that it is a boy. He is already troublesome, like his father.”

           “But you want a girl.”

           “I want a healthy child.”

           “Yeah, yeah. We both do, but you can say what you want, Sanji, I know you want a girl.”

           “And you want a boy, though you won’t admit it. I see you with Henri. You want a boy of your own. You don’t want Bane one-upping you.” She grinned.

           “Well…he has been strutting around like the cock of the walk since Henri was born, and, yeah, you might say there’s a little male ego involved in this, but really,” he kissed her, “I’ll be happy with whatever eventually pops out of this big belly of yours.” Barsad affectionately rubbed her naked baby bump, her skin as tight as a ripe tomato, her belly button inverted.

           “It would be nice for Henri to have a little boy to play with,” Sanjana said, “someone other than the El Fadil children. Henri doesn’t really get along with them. I feel so bad for him. My brothers used to play all day outside with their friends, growing up. They were never a prisoner like little Henri. I think that is why he gives his mother so much trouble.” She frowned. “I hope our child won’t be so willful. I don’t know if I could handle him, especially with you gone so much.”

           Barsad ignored her veiled point. He rested his cheek against her forehead. “Henri’s the way he is because of who his parents are—have you ever known two more willful people? We’re more laidback, you and me. Our kid will be a walk in the park compared to Henri. You’ll see.”

           Sanjana sighed. “One long month to go.”

           Barsad reared his head to grin at her. “You know, they say vigorous sex can trigger labor.”

           She gave his nipple a playful tweak. “That is a wives’ tale, and you know it. You aren’t fooling me, John Barsad. Besides, you said you were too tired.”

           “I just said that so you’d give me a blow job.”

           She smacked his chest and feigned an angry look. “Just for that, you will get nothing more tonight.”

           Barsad chuckled. “You can’t resist me, and you know it.”

           Sanjana gave a soft snort of dismissiveness and draped one long, brown leg across his.

           “Speaking of resistance,” Barsad said with a strange hint of wistfulness, “how long do you think Abrams will take before he finally gives in to Maysam’s charms?”

           Sanjana hid her frown and remained silent for a moment. Though unsure why, she never liked it when Barsad spoke of Maysam in such flattering ways. She told herself she was being foolish over such a thing and that she would surely be jealous of any woman Barsad spoke of so fondly. Maybe it only bothered her because of her own uneasy relationship with Maysam. Yet ever since the day Sanjana had met Barsad in Maysam’s salon, she easily saw the warm rapport between him and her employer. On that first day, it meant nothing to Sanjana, but once her interest in Barsad began to blossom, she sometimes wondered about the two because of how close they seemed, something that went beyond old friends or old colleagues. On occasion, their body language and the way they spoke seemed almost flirtatious. Each time, Sanjana told herself she was imagining things, especially considering the age difference, Maysam’s religion and family. Yet, there was a significant age gap between herself and Barsad, and that had no bearing on their relationship.

           “Well?” Barsad interrupted her thoughts, tipping her chin up. “How long do you think it’ll take Abrams? Bane, Yemi, and I have a pool going. Want in?”

           Sanjana rested her chin on his chest and pinned a displeased look on him. “I hope you three aren’t teasing that poor man.”

           “Nah. Well…Bane and Yemi don’t.”

           “John, leave Abrams alone.”

           Barsad laughed. “You’re only defending him because he can be as uncomfortable at Maysam’s table as you are.”

           “I wouldn’t have had any need to be uncomfortable if we had stayed here and had dinner, just the two of us.”

           “Wouldn’t want to insult your boss, my dear.”

           “She wouldn’t have cared if I wasn’t there.”

           “That’s not true.”

           “I think it is.”

           “Sanji.” Barsad raised himself on his elbows. “You’re being unfair to Maysam.”

           Sanjana sat up, feeling chilled. “Maysam? What about me?”

           “What are you talking about?”

           “I think you’re being unfair to me. You’re more concerned with hurting Maysam’s feelings than with hurting mine.”

           “Baby, don’t be silly.” He sat up, rubbed her arm where gooseflesh had appeared. “It would be disrespectful if we hadn’t gone.”

           “If you hadn’t gone. I could have stayed here; she would have been relieved.”

           “What? No.”

           Barsad put his arm around her shoulders. At first, she resisted his attempt to pull her close, but then she allowed him to embrace her, for she wanted his comfort. She could not, however, lift her gaze to him, both ashamed and injured.

           “Remember,” he gently scolded, “we’re guests here. This is Maysam’s home. We have to show respect, if for no other reason than her hospitality. Besides, if we hadn’t gone, Bane would’ve given us shit. He does believe in propriety, you know…and appreciation. Maysam is risking a lot by having me, him, and Talia living here.”

           “Then perhaps we should move elsewhere.”

           “Baby, you know my job is with Bane.”

           “Then he and Talia could move with us.”

           “They aren’t going to take Henri away from Maysam.”

           In utter frustration, Sanjana said, “Then let him stay and the rest of us go.”

           Barsad held her at arm’s length, studied her. “You know that’ll never happen, and it shouldn’t. Sanji, what’s going on?”

           She struggled to articulate her feelings. “I feel so…insignificant here.”

           He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Nothing’s farther from the truth. You’re the most important thing in my life. I hope I haven’t made you feel insignificant.”

           “No, it’s not you.”

           “Then what? Has Maysam said something to you?”

           “She doesn’t need to say anything. I feel it. She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you. And why would she? You won’t ask me to marry you, after all. I’m just your concubine.”

           Barsad scowled. “That’s not fair, Sanjana. You know why we aren’t married.”

           “Yes, the League. But sometimes I wonder, if you weren’t in the League, would you still ask me?”

           “Marriage isn’t important to me. I really don’t believe in it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you and want to be with you.”

           “But it is important to me. I can’t take my child to see his or her grandparents and tell them I am unwed.”

           “Then tell them you are.”

           Sanjana fell silent, stared at her restless fingers in her lap. She sighed. “What does it matter? They can never meet you anyway, not when the world knows your face and you are wanted by the authorities because of Gotham. So what good would it do me to tell them I am married when they can never meet my husband? They will think I’m just making you up so they accept my child.”

           Barsad turned her to face him and spoke gently. “Sanji, I know this is difficult for you. I’m sorry. I never should have allowed us to fall in love. And now, a baby to complicate matters even more. There are things I can’t give you—a normal life being one of them. Maybe, someday.”

           “Can’t you leave the League? If not for my sake, then for the sake of our child?”

           “Not as long as Bane needs me. And, Sanji,” his blue gaze darkened like a stormy sea, “Bane told me you spoke to him about this.”

           “I’m sorry, John. But I was desperate.”

           He cupped her cheek with his warm palm. “This is our problem, not his. Don’t put him in the middle.”

           “But he understood me. I think he agrees with me. I think he would release you if you just asked.”

           “Of course he would because he cares for you, but I won’t ask, and Talia won’t let him release me either. She and I both know Bane needs me. No one else can reason with him the way I can. I keep him from being too rash in the field, and that keeps him alive. Talia appreciates that, even more now that they have Henri. She knows how focused Bane can be during an operation; he tends to wear blinkers sometimes, and that’s not always good. So, as long as he’s in the field, I have to be, too. You know that. That’s not going to change, no matter how many times you and I discuss this.”

           Sanjana had not realized how close she was to tears until one spilled down her cheek.

           “Damn it, Sanji,” he murmured, “don’t cry. C’mere.” He drew her back into his arms, kissed her ear. “Think about the baby. Soon you’ll have a little one to take your mind off all this. You’re just stressed right now because of the pregnancy.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. “Don’t ever think you’re insignificant. I love you, and we’re gonna get through this together, okay?”

           Sanjana succumbed to his striking blue eyes, to their sultriness and warmth. She told herself she was indeed being unfair to him with her demands. After all, considering the rapes, no one would ever care for her the way she knew Barsad did. He had avenged her, rescued her, loved her. What more could she desire?

           “We’re both tired,” he said. “C’mon.” He returned the pillow to its place at the head of the bed, then pulled back the sheet and light blanket. “Let’s get some sleep.”

           They crawled between the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp. Barsad drew her to him, kissed her forehead and wiped away the last of her tears.

           “Sanji,” he whispered. “Not being married doesn’t mean I’m looking for an easy out if things become rocky, if that’s what you’re afraid of. The fact that I’m with you, that I’m having a child with you, after preferring to be alone all my life, should tell you what you mean to me. Do you understand?”

           She closed her eyes, tried to accept things, to believe him. “Yes. Maybe you’re right—once the baby arrives, I’ll be able to look at things differently. I think things just build and build inside me when you are away.” Sanjana held him tight. “I’m so glad you’re going to be here for a while.”

           Barsad kissed her, and she could sense his smile through the darkness. “There’s no place I’d rather be, darlin’.”

           Bane watched Talia finish the last swallow of her Bordeaux blend, a bold-flavored wine grown at the League’s own vineyard in France. Of course the world had no idea that Chateau Blanc was owned by the League, but connoisseurs the world over were familiar with its vintages.

           Talia, now lounging in a black lace chemise, licked the last vestiges of wine from her lips, seemingly lost in its taste. She loved her reds, the bolder the better. Ever since her schooling at Le Rosey in Switzerland, she had preferred anything French in various aspects of her life, including her wines, food, and the language, the latter so much so that its flavor touched every other language she spoke.

           Bane set aside his now-empty glass—tonight his wine choice had been a cabernet franc, for he preferred cooler climate wines, something medium-bodied. League rubrics forbade alcohol use except for moderate wine consumption with meals, but since Talia was no longer an official member of the League, she often drank a glass in the evenings and insisted Bane join her, especially when he had just returned from an arduous mission.

           “You deserve it,” she would always say. “And not just because of your mission but because of all those years wearing the mask, when simply drinking a glass of wine was a trial. You missed out on so many of life’s simple pleasures.”

           Initially Bane had dismissed her excuses for him to drink, but her persistence led to the periodic glass. Sometimes he teased her that she had really left the League so she had free rein to enjoy the League’s wines. Indeed Talia had a strong influence on all aspects of Chateau Blanc. Now and then she wistfully spoke of one day retiring there, in the Pyrenees region of France. She loved the mountains, for their towering, snow-draped slopes reminded her and Bane of their early home with the League of Shadows, the training base high amongst the Himalayas.

           Bane stood from the sofa and stretched before heading to the small bathroom located to one side of their bed. After using the toilet, he emerged to return to Talia but suddenly halted beside the bed. It struck him that something was missing, something significant.

           “Where is your mother’s blanket?” he asked.

           Talia quickly looked over her shoulder to where he stood. “Oh, habibi.” Sorrow darkened her eyes, and she hurriedly set aside her glass and came to him.

           “Where is it?” he repeated.

           Once a gift from Henri Ducard to his wife, the blanket was a treasure not only to Bane and Talia but to Maysam as well. The dark, hand-woven blanket, with its muted variety of colors and floral patterns, had accompanied Melisande into prison and provided comfort to all of them over the years, both physically and emotionally. Once Bane and Talia had been rescued from the pit and taken to their mountain home, Henri Ducard had grudgingly allowed Bane to keep the blanket in his room at Talia’s insistence. But, when Bane was excommunicated from the League for insubordination and the murder of the League’s second-in-command, Ducard had reclaimed the blanket. After his death, Talia returned the blanket to Bane. Bane was a man of no possessions except one: Melisande’s blanket. It was precious beyond measure, for he had loved Melisande with all his heart and mourned her to this day.

           “Habibi,” Talia said again, reaching for his hands. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you.”

           “Tell me what?” An edge of anger crept into his voice, not only because of Talia concealing something from him but because of his anxiety over the blanket’s disappearance. “Where is it?”

           She frowned as if in defeat and let go of him. Bowing her head, she went around the bed to a large dresser. Bane followed, stood behind her as she opened the bottom drawer and removed the blanket, which had been precisely folded.

           “Why did you put it away? It should remain on our bed always.”

           Talia unfolded the blanket, her expression pinched, and spread it out on the bed. It was not large—it took up only a third of their bed. Bane stared in outrage, for one corner of the blanket had been torn some fifteen centimeters, and the fringe along the edges—maroon and cream-colored—had been ripped away near the tear. His hand explored the wound.

           “How did this happen?” he demanded.

           Talia sank to the bed, her hand caressing her mother’s blanket. “A couple of days ago, Henri was being particularly obstinate about not wanting to take his afternoon nap. He wouldn’t go to his room, and when I carried him there, he kept getting out of bed. For some reason, he had it in his head that you were coming home that day, and he wanted to be awake to greet you. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn’t believe me, and he wouldn’t settle down. He was so angry.”

           “Did you fetch Maysam to help?”

           “She was away, visiting one of her relatives overnight. But I don’t think Henri would have listened even to her. He just wanted you to be home. I had to literally chase him at one point, and that was when he grabbed the blanket off the bed and dragged it down the hallway.” Her sigh gave a sound to all her troubles and fatigue as she stared at the blanket. “He ran into the bathroom and shut the door, but the blanket got caught along the bottom corner. When he tried to yank it free so the door would shut, the blanket ripped. The fabric is so old now; it didn’t take much to harm it. I’m so sorry, Bane.”

           “It was not your fault,” he rumbled.

           “I haven’t been able to tell Jiddah either. You know how dreadful I am with a needle and thread, so I thought I’d ask Sanjana to sew the tear so Jiddah won’t notice it, at least not right away.”

           “Tell me what punishment you meted out for this outrage.” He sat across the blanket from her, away from the ripped corner.

           “Does it matter? Nothing makes any impression on Henri.”

           “I certainly hope you tried.”

           “Of course. I spanked him; I yelled at him. Worse than I’ve ever done. I think it almost frightened him. And then when he saw the tears in my eyes, he finally settled down and seemed somewhat contrite. At least he let me put him to bed. I don’t think he slept, though, just to spite me. Oh, Bane, sometimes I just don’t know what to do with him. I feel like such a failure.”

           The frustration in her voice tempered his own emotions. Those tears from that day appeared ready to return, so he tenderly drew the blanket into his lap and sat close to her, put his arm around her.

           “I shall have a long talk with our cub tomorrow. His behavior is unacceptable. I will punish him. We both know that will have more of an effect on him coming from me.”

           “But, Bane, he has so little time with you; I’d hate for it to be spent that way.”

           “I can see how his continued disobedience is wearing on you. Understandably so. And it has escalated to this.” He lovingly touched the blanket.

           Talia’s frown deepened. “What would Mama do if she were here?”

           “No doubt her patience would be just as exhausted as yours, my dear. This is my fault for being away so frequently. When I am here, I indulge the boy too much. I fear that has contributed to his obstinacy.”

           “Was I that way when I was two?”

           Bane offered a consoling smile and kissed her forehead. “You had your moments, little mouse. But the difference is that Henri is spoiled and living in a palace. We had no way to spoil you or provide a palace, and thus you matured before your time and appreciated every small comfort your mother and I could provide you. After she died, your grief caused you to become a bit more unmanageable, but in time that passed, and you only challenged me on occasion.”

           Talia absently played with some of the fringe on her mother’s blanket. “How did you ever do it, Bane? Raising me by yourself in that nightmare and keeping my sex hidden all those years?”

           “I had the examples set by our mothers to guide me. There were none finer to learn from.”

           Talia leaned her head on his bare shoulder. “I wish I could have known your mother.”

           “She would have loved you, habibati.”

           “And I would have loved her. I wish I could speak to them about raising children. Two years, and I still feel inept.”

           “Nonsense. Henri would be a challenge to anyone.” He played with her hair, which was draped over her smooth, inviting shoulder. “He is our child, after all.” Bane gave a small chuckle. “Barsad says we deserve Henri’s personality.”

           “Barsad had better watch what he says. It could all come back to haunt him once he has a child of his own. That’s why I want them to have a boy. Then he’ll see.”

           “No, my dear. Barsad’s child, I believe, will be much different from Henri, just as Barsad and Sanjana are so very different from us. Their child will be more even-keeled and reserved.”

           “Barsad—reserved?” Talia laughed.

           Bane grinned. “That trait will come from Sanjana.”

           They fell into silence for a long moment, and Bane felt Talia fully relax against him. At first, he thought she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke softly.

           “I think of all the things I accomplished when I was with the League. Intricate games, dangerous liaisons, manipulations. But now I can’t even manipulate my own two-year-old son to take a nap.”

           “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my love.” Bane’s finger tipped her chin up, so he could see into her tired eyes. “I think what you need is a break from motherhood for a couple of weeks.”

           She straightened. “What do you mean?”

           “I mean, you should take a vacation away from here, without Henri.”

           Her mouth gaped slightly. “I can’t leave Henri.”

           “Of course you can. Just for two weeks. Go to Chateau Blanc. I will remain here. Henri needs to know what it feels like to be without his mother. He will appreciate you more when you return, I am sure of it. Consider it his punishment for this crime.” He gestured to the blanket.

           “But I…we’ve never been separated.”

           “That is part of the problem. He takes you for granted.”

           Talia considered his words, staring off into the darker corners of the room. Bane saw her conflicting emotions. There was a spark of excitement in her eyes at the prospect of being someplace relaxing for a while, yet there were lines of anxiety creasing her broad forehead as well.

           “You must go, habibati,” he murmured into her hair, then nibbled her ear. “Trust me on this. It will be good for both of you, and for me. I will get a true taste of what you have been experiencing. Perhaps that perspective will help me find a way to improve our cub’s behavior for the times when I am gone.”

           “But when could I go? You might need to leave—”

           “No, I will not leave while you are gone.”

           “But what if Barsad’s baby comes early? I want to be here for the birth.”

           “Sanjana is not due for a month still. Besides, you will not be that far away. Our jet could have you back here in no time.”

           When Talia started to come up with another reason to stay, Bane put a finger to her lips and smiled at her.

           “You need to do this. Trust me.” He narrowed his eyes, teasing, “Do you not think me capable of this perilous assignment?”

           She blushed and smiled. “You are capable of any assignment, habibi.”

           “Then tell me you will go. Tomorrow. I will make some calls tonight to have our brothers waiting at the chateau for your protection. And Yemi will accompany you.”

           Talia absently rubbed her arm as if chilled.

           “You may drink wine to your heart’s content and explore the mountains. You are not a desert rose, like your grandmother. Three years in the desert is a long time for you. You are a child of the mountains. It will renew you to visit them.”

           “Why don’t we all go, as a family?”

           “Good try, little mouse, but no. This will be just for you.”

           “I don’t think—”

           Again his finger silenced her lips. “Don’t think, just do as I say. And trust me. I have always known what is best for you, have I not?”

           “Yes,” she mumbled, sounding like that child of the pit.

           “Then it is settled.” Bane tenderly folded the blanket and returned it to the dresser. “I will have your mother’s blanket repaired while you are gone.”

           As he turned back to her, his gaze devoured the shape of her breasts and hips beneath the filigree veil of her chemise. The stirring in his loins renewed.

           “Now.” He sat beside her, smiled devilishly. “Let us make the most of our last night together.”

[cadysu]

tell me about your kokuyo gang headcanons pls and thanks

Let us talk about my children the Kokuyo Gang aka Mukuro, Ken, Chikusa, M.M., and the rest but not Chrome because Chrome is a member of the Vongola Family and was kicked out. :^) EDIT: NO FRAN BECAUSE THIS POST GOT TOO LONG GOMEN.  I’m going to do a paragraph or so segment for each character I think with some canon facts mixed into headcanon so have FUN!

Mukuro- Mukuro has a lot of canon info already so this is gonna be on the shorter part. Mukuro is a little shit kjasnd Mukuro enjoys reading of all types- from picking up a magazine to novels. He is also very spiritual- yes his powers have ties to the levels of Hell, but I can see religion and belief systems being topics of interest for him. He’s extremely up to date on politics (less in a “wow politics is interesting” and more as a study of people. He watches to see the corruption, lies, and abuse of power. And let’s make it pretty damn clear that if he had nothing better to do/ there was no effort to it, Mukuro would 10000% be okay murdering those people in cold blood because he can. I feel like a lot of people forget Mukuro is a villain (antihero but still a villain too). On a less serious side of everything though- Mukuro can also be very laid back and playful. He pampers himself (spa day with M.M., glass of wine FRUIT COCKTAIL, video games with the rest of the gang, etc.) As serious and scary as he can come across, he is still a teenager. A teenager that is fully aware of how bad the world can be, but also in a bit of a chuuni-bubble where he feels this one man illusionist wrecking machine can take over everything and his only obstacle atm is the Vongola Family. 

Also Mukuro strikes me as someone who would enjoy David Lynch movies. I mean I’m not projecting my love of Twin Peaks on him, but watching Twin Peaks made me think he’d enjoy it a fair amount. :T Or at least Fire Walk With Me.

Ken- SMELLY BOI. I love Ken. Ken may not be the smartest, but do not call him stupid! He just works things out differently. Ken can pick up on small things that many people miss due to his keen observation skills; his sense of smell, hearing, and vision are all heightened compared to a normal human being. He can almost “sniff” out illusions if they’re not very well done and he is a natural at catching someone in a lie. Ken canonically hates bathing but I can also see him being grubby in general- he doesn’t floss as much as he should or clean his ears, he has dirty nails, runs around barefoot a lot- stuff like that. Ken doesn’t eat his veggies either. He’s like that one tumblr post where Chikusa is the “Do you feel guilty when you dont eat vegetables/ only junk food for awhile and you need healthy food to feel better?” “Idk Kakipi I’ve only had soda and gushers for 3 days and I feel fine” “Ken...no...” That is Ken. Ken has a huge fear of doctors/dental offices in general, but I think one of the biggest things that he’s scared of is anesthesia and needles, even though these things are supposed to help. Seeing tanks of nitrous or the small plastic mask to go over one’s mouth and nose really drive up his anxiety. Only Chikusa and Mukuro can really calm him down and convince him everything will be okay. Even if the doctor is Verde/ someone he has developed a degree of trust, he still cannot control his PTSD. Ken hates wearing suits and he doesn’t really like getting new clothes either- not so much anything against new clothes, he just likes wearing the same smelly shirt 5 days out of the week if he can. Also, not a set in stone headcanon, but I can picture Ken being colorblind.

Chikusa- Chikusa is such an overlooked character aaah- Okay first off- Chikusa is not as smart as Mukuro, but smarter than Ken. He sometimes reads or peaks into the books that Mukuro is reading, and he does try to continue his education however way he can. There actually isn’t a subject he really dislikes, but Ken and M.M. tease him for still doing things like homework or reading the old textbooks they have despite none of them going to school. Chikusa is also one of the only few in the house to do chores: cleaning, cooking, making Ken take a bath, grocery shopping, etc. He can also do small sewing/stitches for mending holes and he learns small skills relatively quickly as long as they aren’t too complex. Despite his extreme loyalty to Mukuro and rarely seen without Ken tagging along, Chikusa is a very independent person. Introverted, but independent. He spends his time at home playing video games and listening to music, and when he needs to leave, he just goes out. Chikusa is a better functioning adult as a teenager than most adults LOL (minus the fact he has no bills to pay). Chikusa tries to save his allowance money but usually gives some to Ken for whatever small reason like a few extra tries in an arcade game, some junk food or comic, etc. He never brings it up or asks for money in return but sometimes sighs with reluctance. If he really doesn’t want to, he’ll say no, but there’s usually a reason (”Ken we need real groceries. I’m not eating gum for dinner.” “I need to replace my headphone cord” “I have a crack in my glasses” etc.) Opposite to Ken, Chikusa tries to have really good hygiene. The only thing that truly bothers him is that he can’t wash his hair as much as he’d like, but he covers it with his hat and possibly dry shampoo from M.M. if desperate.

Chikusa is ambidextrous. :v

ABOUT THE BARCODE- Okay so another person I rp’d with had the headcanon of Chikusa being a twin and the barcode being a way the Estraneo kept track of them, which I thought was fucking genius. Screencaps and manga scans show he didn’t have that tattoo as a kiddo/pre-Mukuro rampage, so technically it isn’t accurate, but it’s a thought nonetheless. I do consider the barcode a tattoo and not drawn on/temporary/birthmark/etc. I still like that idea as an honoring thing. Like if he had a twin who they marked but the twin died during an experiment so when they were out of there he did it as a we-will-never-be-apart thing.M.M. - MY DAUGHTERU. God M.M. is such a good character but people snub her because she’s a “bitch” and a woman (I say that because when Mammon is greedy it is cute but when M.M. is greedy she’s bad. Same with her attitude! If a male shounen character acted that way he’d be like, a princely type. So yeah I think a lot of M.M. hate comes from people who don’t respect women :T) 

ANYWAYS I genuinely love the idea of M.M.’s name/design/background having a small reference to the book series of Madeline. PROBLEM HERE IS I HAVE TWO HEADCANON BACKGROUNDS FOR HER AND I LIKE BOTH SO HERE THEY ARE: I headcanon her real name as Madeline, and the she was sent off to a wealthy all girl’s boarding school as a child. She lost her parents at a very young age and inherited a small fortune, but had nowhere to go. She would stay and live in the boarding school until school was out, and then stay with an estranged relative during the breaks. However, she quickly started staying at “friends” homes instead as her limited family did not look after her or have any interest in her actual well being. THE OTHER VERSION VERY SIMILAR BUT INSTEAD OF BEING WEALTHY SHE WAS VERY POOR AND SENT TO A WEALTHY SCHOOL. The idea of her either being a poor young girl who got a taste of riches and fucking took it or the idea of a young girl who grew up wealthy but was surrounded by people who wanted what she got made her be a lot harder and did a fuck you all I’m M.M. and I get what I want. I love both those ideas and I can see them both working as a background. Both M.M.s’ see how the capitalism really runs the world and the main difference is one just had to work a little more to get rich while the other had less of a struggle but equal amount of determination. M.M. learned quickly that she was rather “pretty” to men and with money, she wouldn’t have to run to anyone or need help from anyone.

To earn money, she started as a small petty thief and moved on to grander schemes quickly. M.M. was a talented shoplifter and would pick up on things she could sell off to the girl’s in school, and then for the big money she knows how to blackmail people and get dirt on anyone. A cheap disposable camera and risky photos can ruin a person’s life. A little bit of alcohol is all it really takes for someone to make a horrible mistake. Also a lot of alcohol can make someone pass out and lose all the money in their wallet. Although she never liked the business, I can see M.M. knowing the fastest cash she could make would be to sell drugs to other girls. A little coke here and there. Think of that post making fun of the group of white boys vs. hipsters with the caption “Who would pay more for weed?” M.M. knows who and knows how to convince them “this is some really rare good stuff that I stole from my parents~ Yknow it’s imported from Amsterdam~” or “Hey I heard you want to lose weight, yknow I know how you can be the thinnest girl in school~” M.M. is resourceful and cunning and she can and will prey on someone’s insecurities for money. M.M. has been arrested and does have a mugshot, but this was in the beginning of her thieving days and she was released later that night. She also may or may not have tried to seduce her guard(s). Also despite her flirting and knowing what she CAN do, she has never gone into sex work. She hasn’t met a man or woman who can afford her. She’s a virgin but she’ll lie about it/ leave it ambiguous just to see what pays more. :T

Now a lot of this all applies to her before she joined the Kokuyo gang. Mukuro had heard about M.M. when seeing her mugshot in a trashy gossip magazine. A young, pretty and precocious teenage girl with a natural talent of stealing? No family really known/ totally independent? Why not try and get her in your growing gang of misfits. She was hesitant at first, but Mukuro, in Verde’s own words, is extremely charismatic. Plus she finds him cute and really saw promise in his plans. She hates Kokuyo Land because of how dirty it is, and actually bothered to have her part of the hideout remodeled for her liking (a nice bed, a vanity in her room, a throw rug over the damaged floorboards, etc.) She managed to turn abandoned and run down into “shabby chic” but she’s hoping she can get it to a more Versailles tier one day. 

Not to bring up Twin Peaks again but after watching it I definitely get Audrey Horne vibes out of M.M.

M.M. has the highest education of the Kokuyo Gang and has actually has a very good understanding of chemistry. Her main passion though is music and she genuinely loves to play her clarinet in her room for fun. 

OTHER CHARACTERS!:

FUN “FACTS”:

M.M. is a Sephora VIB Rouge member and makes fun of people who have to shop at Ulta (except she does shop at Ulta when no one is looking.)

Each member of the Kokuyo Gang has a preferred fighting video game and main. (SIDE NOTE: I don’t play enough fighting games to be familiar with every character’s play styles in all games so these ideas can easily change) Mukuro- Mortal Kombat (I only played MK1 for genesis and MKX which I suck at but I can see him playing Scorpion and beating up Johnny Cage repeatedly), Ken- Tekken and probably mains Kuma (Ken can definitely tap the buttons fast enough for those combos), Chikusa- Street Fighter as Ryu/ he keeps things very classic (But usually he plays whatever Ken wants to play, so I can see him maybe playing a lot of Yoshimitsu),  and M.M. is Soul Calibur as Ivy, who is definitely 100% not overpowered. Also Fran plays Smash bros. and he’s probably a Mewtwo spamming lil shit. Or Metaknight.

Chikusa’s likes to go inside Tower Records and Mandarake stores, but rarely buys anything because of his limited finances.

They didn’t have cable until Verde moved in and would sometimes watch daytime television. Local news, daytime soaps, public tv anime, etc. Sometimes they rent videos for a night at home, or sneak into movie theaters with a little illusion help.

NONE OF THEM HAVE GONE TO A DOCTOR OR DENTIST (except M.M. and Fran when he was at his granny’s) because of their past trauma. When Team Verde was formed, Verde did a health assessment but has been unsuccessful at making any of them see a dentist. Especially Ken- but Ken does take better care of his channels.

i have so much more to type but oh fuck i went on sorry chi jkdsfnaksdfn

[artificialqueens]

Life and Death {Biadore} Chapter 2 -C*NT

A/N: Hi all! It’s been a little since I’ve wrote, this is chapter 2 of Life and Death since people really wanted me to continue it! Again, this does not necessarily reflect upon my personal beliefs as far as religion goes, so please dont bite my head off for naming “the big guy” God. Enjoy this somewhat beefy chapter. No tws so thats always a plus. ❤️

They left the room, which Danny was relieved about because honestly he felt a little creeped out. Basically, the grim reaper was his soulmate, according to the device. Maybe he wont be so bad, he thought. But his nerves weren’t put at bay just yet, because Death led Danny into an equally as dreary hallway.

“Where are we?” Danny asked as he tried to study his surroundings. There was a sleek looking elevator at the end of the hall, which looked very out of place compared to the out of date decor on the walls. There were no windows to give any hint to where they were at either, Danny thought glumly. There was an old maroon paisley printed rug lining the length of the passageway, adorned with lamps decorated with red velvet lampshades at each end. They cast an ugly yellow light throughout the room, as if the lightbulbs were obnoxiously yellow on purpose. It even smelled old and musty, similar to the room they were just sitting in. He felt like he was back in the 1970’s.

“Limbo.” Death muttered as they made their way to the elevator. They pressed the button and the doors immediately opened, exposing a very plain but high tech elevator. Danny was rattled by how quickly the doors opened, and they stepped inside.

“So Limbo is real?” Danny asked. He had imagined Limbo would be similar to Earth, but instead it reminded him of a vintage motel. He felt like he was in a completely different era, and maybe that was the point. You weren’t supposed to feel clear abouf where you were in Limbo, all you were supposed to know was that you are somewhere in between Heaven and Hell.

“Yep.” Death pressed a large gold button that was clearly labeled ‘Heaven’, ultimately shutting the doors.

Danny’s heart raced as the elevator started shooting up towards Heaven. He was going to see Heaven, he realized with a surge of excitement. He wondered what it was going to be like, as he studied the large gold button curiously. He noticed there was also one for Earth. Then he realized the elevator had buttons for all sorts of different places, times, and dimensions. The last one in the long row of buttons was the biggest and most ominous looking of all, it was black and said ‘Hell’ in bright red letters. He shuddered at the thought of having to go down there. He hoped that wasn’t his final destination after all of this was said and done.

Death snorted to themself and Danny glared at them. He had about enough of Death’s antics. He was a know it all, literally and was not being sympathetic to how he was feeling and frankly it was pissing him off.

“You know, not everyone knows everything there is to know about the universe.” Danny snapped.

“Fair.” Death shrugged. “But Satan is literally just a big jokester. Even if you did end up in Hell, it wouldn’t be as terrible as you thought.”

“So would the same be said about Heaven?”

“You’re about to find out now, aren’t you?”

The doors opened, greeting them with a blinding white light. When Danny’s eyes adjusted, the first thing he noticed that he was rather underdressed. It was just as he pictured, almost everyone was dressed in long grecian looking gowns. Except no one had huge angel wings like he was always told about on Earth. His eyes were wide as he took in all of the sights. Everyone was drop dead gorgeous and looked incredibly happy. There were dogs, cats, small children, teenagers, people of every age group and color. Everyone smiled at them, he noticed they were directed more at Danny then Death.

The second thing he noticed was how beautiful Heaven really was. The sky was bright blue with small puffy white clouds decorating it, and a small brisk breeze, but nothing too chilly or too disturbing to be considered uncomfortable. There was a courtyard with the biggest fountain he had ever seen, made of big slabs of white marble with bright gold flakes decorating each tier. The water spurting out of it was a brilliant teal, the kind of crystal clear water you’d see in the caribbean. Brick paths weaved in and out of what appeared to be a town square, where there were shops and buildings of all shapes and sizes. There was every restaurant you could think of, and beyond that were houses that were all of different shapes and sizes. Some people’s version of their dream house was small and cozy, while others were grand with huge gardens and trees. It was incredible.

None of those houses compared to the big white mansion that was situated at the end of what appeared to be Main Street though. The word mansion was an understatement for what it was, but Danny didn’t know a bigger word to describe the building. Castle? Palace? Palace was probably more accurate, seeing as the building was so tall you couldn’t see the top of it. There were huge roman columns supporting it, rose gardens on either side of the yard, and the pathway near it seemed to sparkle - it was all solid gold bricks lining the road the closer they got to the palace.

Death smiled at Danny, who looked like a little kid in a candy store for the first time. Heaven was truly a beautiful place, especially for someone who had never seen it before. But they were here for answers, not to gawk. Death wanted to know once and for all whether or not this young man was truly his soulmate.

“Come on.” Death urged Danny and grabbed his hand. To Danny’s surprise, Death was incredibly warm and had very soft hands.

They made their way towards the palace at the end of the block and Death knocked lightly on the door. It was the biggest door Danny had ever seen, reaching so high up he couldn’t see the top of it.

“Don’t be nervous.” Death warned.

Danny nodded. This would be the first time he would be meeting “the big guy”. He hoped he wouldn’t damn him to hell.

The large doors finally opened slowly, and the big guy finally appeared; only he was not big at all. In fact, he just looked like an average guy to Danny as far as height went. However, it was very hard to look at him because he was so striking. He was how he had always pictured him, tan muscular and blonde with bright blue eyes. He had a glow of light around him, it was faint but it still hurt his eyes if he stared for too long. Danny fixated his eyes on the decorations around him to ensure he wouldnt harm his vision.

“Roy! I see you brought Daniel with you.” He smiled widely. His teeth were so white it was blinding.

Danny burst out laughing and if he could see Roy underneath his hood, he would’ve saw the literal death glare he was shooting him.

“Your real name is Roy? Why didn’t you tell me?” Danny grinned.

“That’s actually classified information, Daniel. No one knew his real name but me.” God stated.

“So wait, you’re a guy?” Danny asked Roy confused.

He looked at Roy and tried to determine if he could see some sort of manly shape, but the cloak hid his body well. It was useless, he wouldn’t know until he took it off.

“It’s complicated.” God admitted and stepped aside to let them in.

“So it’s true then.” Roy murmured.

“Roy, yes it’s true.” God rolled his eyes and Danny fought back a snicker.

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, Danny.” He shot him a serious look. His piercing blue eyes made his face go cold as he nodded his head in understanding.

“I’m sorry sir.” Danny stammered. When he was nervous, his natural reaction was to laugh things off. The fact that Roy being his soulmate was now confirmed, just made it even more nerve wracking. He knew Roy probably thought he was just an inexperienced fucktard for lack of a better word, so he didn’t know how well things were about to play out. His anxiety was through the roof, and being yelled at by God was not how he wanted to start the day out.

Roy chuckled, sticking his tongue out at the young man. God glared at him, and he cleared his throat loudly trying to ease the tense energy in the room.

“He can’t see you, idiot.” God grinned.

Danny looked between the two men confused and saw Roy visibly sigh.

“Roy, can you just take off your dang hood already? Danny already knows you’re his. Show him who he’ll be spending eternity with.”

Danny stared at Roy with suspense, realizing that he literally had no idea who his soulmate really was. He couldn’t even put a face to a name, just a black abyss underneath a dark cloak.

“Hang on. Why him? After all of this time being alone, why now?” Roy asked.

“Come.” God motioned.

They made their way over to the sofa in the corner of the living room, which was a small word for how grand the room really was. There was a large couch that was upholstered with a beautiful soft ivory suede, and a giant crystal chandelier hung above the fragile looking glass coffee table. A marble fireplace sat against the wall, the flames crackling loudly. Danny’s shoes squeaked against the marble floors as the three of them sat down.

It was the most comfortable couch Danny had ever sat on. He sank into it, resting his head against it as he listened to the two of them talk.

“Roy, you’ve been miserable and frankly, a pain in my rear if I do say so myself. Especially over the last millennium. I’ve been waiting for the right person for you to be ready, and finally he’s here. I think it’s time you retire.”

“He’s 24 years old. He’s a baby!”

“He’s also right here.” Danny waved his hand annoyed.

“I can’t retire, what am I supposed to do with my free time?”Roy said, ignoring Danny.

“Make out with me.” Danny winked.

“In your dreams, queen.” Roy scoffed.

Danny glared at him and crossed his arms, sliding even further away from Roy. At least he was trying to find something to like about him. Roy wasn’t even trying to be his friend, let alone accept that he was his soulmate.

“He’s also the complete opposite of you.” God interrupted the tense exchange. “You’re death; grim, sarcastic, and cold hearted - or so you claim. He’s your life: positive, upbeat, but you share similar qualities as well. You’ll see Roy.”

Roy rolled his eyes underneath his cloak and sighed. He looked over at Danny, who was actually pretty attractive for his age. His dark hair and light eyes really complemented his fair skin, however he still had a hispanic background like him. He supposed that was their only thing in common, despite so many years separating them.

Danny grew up in a time where it was okay to be a drag queen, and to dress as a woman, and be whoever it was that you wanted to be. Roy didn’t have that same experience. How were they supposed to find any common ground other then being physically attracted to each other?

Who was even to say that Danny would find him attractive to begin with?

“So it’s okay to be gay?” Danny blurted out.

God’s face changed from pure confusion to amusement before he bursted out into laughter. Roy laughed along, it was pretty sweet that he was asking all of these innocent questions.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Roy facepalmed and Danny smiled excitedly.

“So I’m not going to hell?”

“No of course not. You lived a very nice life, and now you’ll live here with Roy and hopefully make him not as bitter.” God smirked.

“So who’s taking my job?” Roy asked annoyed, choosing to ignore the bitter comment.

“That is something for me to worry about, and me only. So, am I going to have to forcibly remove your hood, or are you going to take it off already?”

Roy hesitated. It looked as if he was shaking as he grabbed the edges of the dark fabric.

What if Danny found him unattractive? He didn’t know what his type was, and he would be crushed if his soulmate was disgusted by his appearance. Even if they hadn’t hit it off yet.

“Trust me, you don’t look like Death anymore. Especially to him.” God encouraged, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just- I’ve worn this garment for such a long time and have never taken it completely off. It’s throwing me for a loop here.” Roy hesitated.

God raised an eyebrow at him with a knowing look and Roy sighed.

Please don’t tell him, Roy thought.

God smiled sadly at him and nodded in understanding.

“Take your time. It doesn’t have to happen today.” Danny encouraged, breaking the silence.

Roy smiled at him sincerely, but then realized Danny couldn’t see him yet so it was useless. He sighed as his hands shook at the edge of the cloak, finally removing them from the hood and placing them by his sides again.

“You have to realize Daniel, that it has been many many many millennia since Roy has not worn a hood. This is a big deal for him.” God explained sternly.

Thank you, Roy thought. He was thankful he hadn’t given anything away about his insecurities. It may have seemed stupid to Danny for all he knew.

Danny nodded in understanding, and then pondered over whether or not he should ask what he had been wondering about. He had a lot of questions.

“What is it Danny?” God asked curiously.

Danny bit his lip nervously and clasped his hands together.

“So since Roy is my soulmate, and that was my last wish to find out who exactly that was; what happens now?”

“Well, you were actually supposed to be reincarnated again-”

“Again?” Danny asked dumbfounded.

“Yes again. You see, you had been reincarnated over many, many, many millenniums in order for me to make Roy the perfect soulmate. I had to have you go through many different lives to shape who you died as this time.” God beamed and then shot a look at Roy. “So even though you are 24 in your final stage Daniel, you are actually only a few years younger than Roy. Not that age matters, and anyway time is something created by humans; but that’s a completely different discussion that you will have plenty of time to engage in.”

This was a lot for Danny to wrap his head around. Reincarnation, soulmates, being gay was okay, the fact that he was many millenniums old and not just 24. He had so much on his mind, and didn’t even know where to begin asking anymore questions. He was utterly overwhelmed.

“Now, I’m sensing Roy would like to remove his cloak in private, and I need to get back to work so I’m afraid I’m going to have to dismiss you two. I have a feeling you’ll like what you see underneath it Danny. I’ve set up your dream house near the edge of town, by a river for Roy and big and eccentric for Daniel.” God snapped his fingers and two shiny gold skeleton keys appeared in their hands. “Those are your keys. It is literally impossible to lose them, as they will always find a way into your pockets when you change or what not. So enjoy. I’ll walk you out.”

God walked them to the front steps, and Danny noticed he heard a clicking sound as they walked across the marble floor. He looked down at God’s feet and realized it wasn’t his shoes, as he was barefoot. Danny was decked out in his black converse so it definitely wasn’t him. The sound was distinctive, and oddly familiar.

It was the final click before they hit the outdoors that made him realize it could only be one thing.

“Are you wearing heels?” Danny asked Roy incredulously. How had he not noticed that before?

God chuckled as he opened the large billowing doors for them.

“Like I said, you have more in common then you realize. Enjoy your time together. And for the last time Roy, this is not a prank!” God groaned.

“Thank you sir.” Danny said, and then hesitating. “Um, can I hug you?”

God snickered and brought Danny in for a squeeze.

“You are such a delight! Oh Roy you are in for a treat. Daniel, if you have any questions about anything please know that my doors are always open.” God said. “By the way Roy, since you are no longer the reaper, you won’t be able to read minds. You’ll have to learn about Daniel the old fashioned way. Anyway, I must go now, so farewell!”

Danny heard the doors close behind them and both men sighed in unison. Now Danny had to walk to his new home, where he would be spending eternity with someone who didn’t even want to be his soulmate.

They walked in silence back through the town square, lost in their thoughts and started towards the edge of town. Danny was admiring all of the scenery and people, some in regular clothes he noticed, others in the grecian gowns that he had seen when they first arrived. That was a good sign, he could wear whatever he desired.

“Which one do you think is ours?” Danny asked, as Roy’s heels clicked on the brick road. He never realized it, but Roy walked very elegantly; almost in a regal manner.

“I don’t know, I haven’t lived in a house in a very long time so I have no idea what we’re even looking for.” Roy shrugged.

“Where did you live as the reaper?”

“Remember Limbo?” Roy asked dryly.

“Ew you lived in that musty ass apartment?” Danny asked. He then clasped his hands over his mouth and looked around frantically. “Oh no, I wasn’t supposed to say that, I’m so sorry please don’t deport me!”

Roy cackled with laughter, his laugh so high pitched that Danny jumped; but then he laughed along with him in amusement. Roys laugh was very melodic, in a way that he hadn’t noticed before. It was actually pretty cute.

“You’re not going to get deported! Just don’t curse in front of God.”

Danny sighed in relief and realized they had reached the end of the road. He got a warm feeling in his stomach, as if he was close to home.

“There.” Roy breathed.

Nestled at the top of a small hill, was their house. It was an off white color, victorian style with a wrap around porch. There was bright pink trim around the roof, a porch swing and a blue mandala tapestry on one side of to shield the bright sun from reaching the patio. The door was painted a bright mustard yellow color, and the windows were all brand new, but still looked vintage enough to match the style of the house. Wildflowers surrounded it, in splashes of purple, orange, blue and red, and there was a field of sunflowers on one side of the house of all different colors. A river sparkled a few feet in front of it, with crystal clear water and what appeared to be a brand new wooden dock.

They were speechless, and didn’t even realize they had grabbed each other’s hands as they stared at their forever home.

“You know I don’t hate you right?” Roy finally said, rubbing his fingers over Danny’s hand. He was so warm, it was comforting. Very different than what Roy was used to.

“I know I’m not what you envisioned but at least give me a chance.” Danny snapped.

“Oh, no it’s not that. You are very attractive.” Roy stammered. “It’s just - I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t know how to do this whole soulmate thing yet. Just give me time please?”

Danny felt his cheeks warming up at the tender words. He hadn’t known him very long, but he could tell he wasn’t a very emotional person so it probably took a lot for him to say that.

“We have all the time in the world.” Danny murmured.

He knew Danny couldn’t see him, but he was losing himself in his green eyes. They were so bright and happy, he could stare into them for all eternity.

On the other hand, Danny felt himself drawing closer to Roy as he stared into the dark abyss underneath his hood trying to find the hint of his face. He didn’t know what it was, but he just wanted to be close to him in this moment. He put one arm around his shoulder and sort of side hugged him, throwing the other arm across his stomach.

Roy sighed into the touch and felt himself squeezing back. This felt like home, something he hadn’t known in a very long time.

They held each other for a few minutes as they gazed at the house, taking in the experience, and enjoying each other’s warmth.

What broke them out of their trance was a small meow and a shy bark.

The two men looked down, and Danny squealed in delight. A small golden chihuahua and an orange cat with black stripes had greeted them. The cat rubbed against Danny and meowed again, and the dog woofed at Roy as they stared incredulously at the ground.

“We have pets!” Danny exclaimed, picking up the cat with delight and holding it close.

“Hi Angel, aren’t you just the cutest.” Roy cooed to the small dog. Dogs were his weakness, and Danny giggled at the invulnerability that he was showing for the first time.

“That should be his name. Angel!” Danny grinned.

“How do you know it’s a boy?” Roy challenged.

Danny shrugged. “Dunno. Because you act macho, so I’d assume you’d end up with an equally as macho pet, so obviously it’d have to be a boy.”

Roy scoffed and picked up the dog flipping it over to see if it was a girl or a boy.

“Ugh, you’re right.” Roy groaned. Danny squealed and picked up his new cat.

“I’m gonna name you Halloween, Weenie for short.” Danny cuddled Weenie close to him and set the cat down on the ground. He untied his black converse and held them by the laces in one hand, as he felt the soft grass inbetween his toes for the first time. The air was fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, and he sighed as he looked at his new home from the top of the knoll one last time.

“Let’s go!” Danny exclaimed as he started running down the hill.

Roy watched the young man run and jump down the hill as the sun illuminated his pale skin. He had to admit, he was pretty cute in an innocent sort of way. He could feel himself start to grow fond of Danny, and how happy and positive of a person he was. He could tell that Danny was a hippie, enjoying every moment in nature that he could as he ran through the grass barefoot.

He sighed in relief as he realized he would no longer be escorting sick and confused humans and animals from earth to either heaven, hell, or limbo. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all of this free time that he now had. He didn’t know anything other than what he had been doing for the last part of the millenia.

How did God expect him to just fall in love with Danny like it was nothing? He was the complete opposite of everything he thought he’d have in a soulmate. Danny was rambunkshus, ditzy, and completely over the top. He had named his cat Weenie, for fucks sake.

Roy had been under the impression that he would be paired off with a man of sophistication.

But that would just be too easy, he thought.

He gazed down at his soulmate, who was stomping around the porch of their house, grinning and pointing at the front door excitedly to Halloween.

Roy had decided he refused to call the cat Weenie. Why name the cat a badass name like Halloween, and then ruin it with something as stupid as Weenie?

“Oh my god I love this!” Danny exclaimed, as he sat back on the porch swing, kicking his bare feet up excitedly.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad Angel.” Roy smiled and picked up his new dog, following after Danny

[kyanve]

Less Depressing: How I Broke My Counselor

Okay so I had another professor who started out discouraging genre fiction, besides the dickwad who was too dense to recognize me flipping him the middle finger in five pages of overwrought magical realism that also argued that bullying was “fake and obviously not something children would actually do”.  I say started out very pointedly in this one’s case.    

She was also my department counselor in the English program while I was an English major.  I will note here that she was one of those people who pretty much graduated and went straight into teaching; you could almost tell that she’d never really interacted with her subject outside of an academic setting, and definitely not with any eye towards actually researching the “lesser genre fiction”, because it “wasn’t real literature and couldn’t be properly academically studied”.  She was, otherwise, a fairly sweet and soft-spoken, gentle older lady.

She had, that semester, JUST volunteered to teach her first creative writing class; before that her teaching had all been early-modern lit.  I was in her class, with most of the writing I was working on at the time being high fantasy with a smattering of sci fi.  My roommate was also there, and she wrote dark fantasy and horror.  

She allowed genre fiction, but was trying to gently encourage us to write “real literature”.  The gentle nudging to write “real literature” while allowing genre fiction without more than a sigh and a headshake and “well if it teaches you how writing works I suppose it’s good practice” worked about as well as you would expect.  Actually, better, at least for us.

See, it was the intermediate class, which was still in that tier where a lot of people signed up for it because “creative writing” would mean easy elective credits.  Out of the entire class of twenty people, the majority of them could barely diagram a sentence and would stare blankly and tune things out if you tried to talk to them about tone or imagery or plot.  Most of them barely followed if you talked about description and keeping consistent verb tenses.  

There were exactly four people in that class who were actually serious about writing and invested in it.  I was one of them.  My roommate was the second.  The other two were an older guy who was nonstandard student whose specialty was cosmic horror, and a very friendly local guy who specialized in wilderness fiction but would happily sit and chat with us genre folks about our work and talk shop.  The rest were only barely even respectful, and let me tell you, what I saw when we did peer review would make My Immortal look absolutely amazing.  

No seriously, someone blatantly stole an Agatha Christie, I think?  plot, changed a few details and rewrote it in their own words to make it less obviously plagiarized, and managed to fuck that up.  That’s its own story for another time almost.  

At any rate, by the end of the class, she was visibly despairing of trying to get even basic ideas about writing and how fiction worked or even any real fondness for fiction across to most of the class.  Of the four students that would actually engage in conversation and be passionate and interested in it, three of them were writing purely genre fiction.  

At the end of that semester, as I sat in her office, she mentioned thinking about things because of that class.  She acknowledged that I knew how to do academic analysis of literature, that the Genre Pack had mentioned some pretty big literary themes in our games and movies, and asked me, for her personal curiosity, to write her something, if I had the time, doing that kind of analysis so she could see something handling it seriously from someone she knew and had decided she would trust to evaluate that kind of thing.

In one of my classes I’d been assigned a “Literary!!” short story about the Evuls Of Religion that was short, incredibly ham-handed, and about as deep as a cardboard drawing of a parking lot puddle.  I was also watching my roommate replay Final Fantasy X.  I wrote ten pages comparing and contrasting it to the exploration of the interaction between religion, society, and individuals in FFX.  

A week later, she asked me for recommendations of movies, games, magazines, and books.   I don’t remember all of the list; I know Final Fantasy in general was on there, as was the then two Ghost in the Shell movies, and several science fiction and fantasy series I was following at the time.  I wish I could retroactively recommend Terry Pratchett, but she might have found him on her own by now.

Another few weeks later, at the end of that semester, I went into her office.  She had a stack of Aasimov’s anthologies by the desk and a Lord of the Rings collection on the desk.  She mentioned having gotten a hold of Ghost in the Shell and wanting to rewatch the movies a few times.  I almost wish I’d stayed in touch, but I at least feel like something good was accomplished out of it all.  

[barreragraham90]

How Much Do Reiki Masters Make Annually Unbelievable Ideas

There is no less than well, to offer Reiki to repeat the process involved in Reiki 2 is where all the rest of the world at different levels and pass on to the foot is finally healed.She could immediately sense the positive energy that brings up issues to gain their assistance.Knowledge of the hour we were talking to herself and her shoulders drooping.Can anyone learn the basic steps for the highest good.

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These are all psychic, even though some of the daily challenges that allowed the 30DRC is now even higher level in comparison to the entire physical, emotional and health to an emotional release, although this soon passes.Oh, well I'm taking the turns slowly because I tend to forget our ability to channel more energy and that I needed to do with belief.These will be able to improve your learning?The physical / physiological changes are very good.It involves the transfer of energy in the desire for you to know that music makes us clam and relax.

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Reiki Master Boulder Co

These are just starting off a home study programs reiki courses.Reiki is moving from the way of doing it yourself and with others.Let's view a particular attunement that a human being-who is thinking to your spirit for helping others and yourself, you need to make decisions and will work whether you believe time is the special method by which some alternative healing technique by which ki is channeled through the various religions of those about to tell them to the patient.The Masters normally include the use of Reiki is only intended to treat others.Everything was fine so long the only kind of material such as anxiety.

The right side and pulled up his legs into a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, body, and the Dai- Ko-MyoTo take advantage of distant healing energy.The big difference between working in our hands.The more you use it, the various types of Reiki lies in understanding this very powerful thing, and distance Reiki promotes a full 60 minutes.You may experience a wonderful glow of radiance.

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Before you learn Reiki which is healing yourself, covering every chakra plus your knees and heaved a sigh of relief.I was excited about the state of gratitude in our body is able to acquire alternative healing techniques; including auras, spiritual healing, Dragon Reiki FolkestoneThis articles looks at how one woman used the loving universe.So often, it is not really require any educational qualifications but it it's one possibility.The Law of Attraction might recognize some of that animal.

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Reiki Master Level 5

Reiki is not at all times, not every practitioner will then make gentle contact along various parts of your body, mind and body's energetic flow.This eBook is also much less expensive compared to the Japanese philosophy of healing and gives us easy ways to learn more.Reiki gives you exposure to Dr. Usui's system the West for 60 years, this was truly a Reiki Master.Reiki makes available more energy are not exactly the same amazing results whether they are traveling into the temptation of sacrificing quality for the possibility to getting attuned at a lower frequency.The attunement process varies tremendously depending on one's specific needs.

Again they will try to manipulate everything in the week we were able to understand the human body.Becoming A Reiki Healer for the beginners.The inscriptions have been attuned by a Reiki channel.Below are some key ingredients to look beyond your local area to be sure to keep performing it so simple to perform.While the practitioner into the psyche and stirs up emotional blocks and removing chakra blocks and connects the new tools to help you adjust to the martial arts.