#but lawns as we know are overrated

[elainemorisi]

due to Circumstances, I now have a persimmon seedling and a quince tree, and I am pretty enthused about this

[mooncello]

Cole

“We’re fighting over TSwift,” Nya says.

“Yes, you can be the tie-breaker, Kai,” Zane says. “Pix and I think she is one of the greatest musical artists of the modern era, and Cole and Nya think she’s overrated and nothing more than—what was the phrase Cole used?—a conniving marketing genius. They are erroneous, of course. What say you?”

“Total legend.” Kai doesn’t hesitate.

I shake my head at him. “You are so so wrong.” I raise one eyebrow and waggle my fork at him. “I’ll convince you later.”

Kai’s lips curl into a smile as he cocks his head to one side, tongue sliding over his teeth. “You can try.”

“Were Zane and I this obvious?” Pix whispers to Nya, who smirks and slams the rest of her drink.

“Yes,” she says. “But in a different way. Softer. Less…bro-y.”

“We are right here,” I say.

Nya wrinkles her nose at me, and smiles. “I know.”

“Something smells good!” Jay and Lloyd enter the kitchen. Lloyd tosses his jacket on the dining table and joins us, followed by Jay who is walking—albeit slowly—without any braces or crutches.

“Happy birthday, Kai!” Jay says, wrapping his arms around Kai’s shoulders and squeezing. “Ooh, you smell nice.” His attention is suddenly on the cinnamon rolls and he gasps. “Did Pix make those?”

“I did,” Pix affirms, which sends Jay into a near-orgasmic state.

Lloyd is already eating the last of the shakshuka. Compliments it. Casually mentions between bites they’re now using they/them pronouns. We all send them chin nods and smiles. Jay gives Lloyd a giant hug and then sinks his teeth into the biggest cinnamon roll.

“That was a fast appointment. How’s your knee?” I ask him.

Jay’s mouth is stuffed with brioche and cream cheese frosting so it takes a minute to respond. “Good—doc is happy. I’ve got some new PT but I can pretty much return to normal activity.”

“In that case…” Kai’s eyes flash. “I know what we can do today.”

“That’s more like it,” Nya breathes, leaning forward. “Tell us.”

“Death croquet.”

“Death…croquet…?” Nya echoes.

“What is croquet?” Lloyd twirls their fork in the air.

“Deep fried food thingies, right?” Jay says.

“That’s a croquette,” I say.

“Isn’t that what Kai said?”

“Croquet is a lawn game created in the 1800s, comprising of wooden mallets and wickets,” Zane supplies. “An earl popularized the sport with croquet parties.”

“So…it’s a super old, rich white people game?” I ask.

“Death croquet,” Kai repeats. “I’ve wanted to check this out forever. You get a ball and a mallet, and the first person to whack their ball through all the wickets wins. But there are no rules. Cheating is encouraged. You can disrupt other players by whacking their ball off course instead. And the course is this huge field on a hill so you’re constantly fighting gravity. And there’s hidden pockets of fire that shoot out of the ground randomly. And other obstacles!”

I laugh out loud at the same time Jay gulps. This is the most Kai game ever.

“Sounds like anarchy,” Zane says. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” I add. Obviously.

Kai throws his sister a look and smirks. “You asked for epic.”

Nya, Pix and Jay all nod yes. Even Lloyd grins. “Work can wait,” they say. “This sounds fun. And you only turn 26 once, right?”

“It’s still morning though,” Nya says. “When does this thing start?”

“I think it opens at noon.” Kai taps at his phone to confirm. “This is death croquet, fam. You have to dress the part.”

I swallow down another laugh. This is getting more and more madcap by the second. Which is to say: Peak Birthday Kai.

“So…like skull and crossbones?” Pix asks.

“Studded leather,” Nya adds.

“Goth boots!” Jay cries.

“Neon pink,” Zane says.

“Yes. All of it, yes.” Kai is smiling from ear to ear, and the distress from earlier is nowhere to be seen. “Get your best death fits, and we’ll head out in an hour. Birthday lattes beforehand.”

Yeah, Birthday Kai is back.

~ ~

this chapter kinda has it all. birthday shenanigans, daddy issues, death croquet, sex, tenderness, vulnerability...

sometimes the characters take the story in directions i didn't anticipate. and i'm just along for the ride. hope you enjoy this one.

[cordiiceps]

TASK 04: PLAYLIST.

listen to the full playlist here. 

FAWN - CRYWOLF. in a flash the wicked won. oh the moment seemed so, moments seemed to clear  i'll rest your weary head beside my own. i will take these clothes and cover you my dear. god bless your soul, he has not blessed mine. / till you’re lonely and forlorn with all your oaths. you’re my heart, my rain, my poison, my fawn.

JOLT - UNLIKE PLUTO. and some will take the high road, i will go low. there's nothing left behind me, set fire to it all. the fury will fade and the images too. a world without you, that's what i need to do.

MOTH - DUA SALEH. i’m just getting settled in the den. making my amends with the devil in the ends. / i swear that i’m the man in the tower. i got a lawn chair to watch the bloom of the hours. you got a moncler. i wear the stink of the flowers. you got them big ben butterflies spring to devour.

I DO WHAT I WANT - MISSIO. i wish i could party like i used to when i was young. now i like to party by myself, i swear it's just as fun. / living the cocaine lifestyle is overrated. this isn't mexico, it's reality. and all of you party people don't get your feelings hurt. i'm incapable of being how you want me.

THE GUN - LORN. old wars, bad dreams. starlights must lead where they lay. new scars, dumb genes. my lady loves looking down at me. new name, no meaning. still looking for the same old feeling. 

THROUGH THE VALLEY - SHAWN JAMES. i walk through the valley of the shadow of death. and i'll fear no evil because i'm blind to it all. and my mind and my gun, they comfort me. because i know i'll kill my enemies when they come. / still, i walk beside the still waters, and they restore my soul. but i can't walk on the path of the right because i'm wrong.

INTRO (CREATURES OF HABIT) - GRETA ISAAC. however, if the spawn of a habit is mistreated.. guided by a trembling weak mind. the habit can inflame, and control of your very own desire can soon become out of control. the swelling of this dark defect can transform said habit into a disposition. an addiction. a sickness. a venomous enemy. / i'm caught in the same old ways. same old chain. don't want it.

BELLYACHE - BILLIE EILISH. my friends aren't far. in the back of my car lay their bodies. / my v is for vendetta. thought that i'd feel better. but now i got a bellyache. / the way i wear my noose like a necklace. i wanna make 'em scared. like i could be anywhere.

KEROSENE - CRYSTAL CASTLES. light of god dimming weak. nothing's wrong go back to sleep. lost the will at infancy. / i'll protect you from all the things i've seen. and i'll clean your wounds. rinse them with saline.

AFFECTION - CRYSTAL CASTLES. catch a moth, hold it in my hand. crush it casually. without past i can't disappoint. my ancestry.

LOVELY - BILLIE EILISH FT. KHALID. thought i found a way. thought i found a way out. but you never go away. so i guess i gotta stay now. / oh, i hope some day i'll make it out of here. even if it takes all night or a hundred years. need a place to hide, but i can't find one near. wanna feel alive, outside i can't fight my fear.

PATIENCE - LOW ROAR. sick of losing my patience. out of time, lacking rhythm. barely conscious, oversensitized. feeling weaker as i stumble around.

OUTLAWS - AU/RA. running out the door aiming for the waist down. pulling up the car, boy we're on the run now. had to wide the roads, light the fuse and stand back. all our hopes and dreams stuffed into this backpack. / see our faces on the posters by the roadside. we were the wanted ones long before the ink dried. we'll be fugitives, running from the mundane. you and i were just born to live in this way.

MINUS SIXTY ONE - WOODKID. minus sixty-one. have i every really loved someone? do i deserve what i've got? now the grid system's turned into traps. and the fear's switching sides. i own a million dollars worth of stock. but i still don't sleep at night. what is it that i've become?

19:00 - DANGER FT. TASHA THE AMAZON. wheels spinnin' on my way outta town, way outta town. they gon' look for me, look for me, i don't wanna be found. / they call me lost, maybe i'm lost, or maybe i'm finally found.

SILVER SCREEN - JONNY T FT. FOREIGN FIGURES. being me, i got to say is gourmet. maybe 'cause i just robbed the bank, ah. why do you still think that i'm charming? just here to crash another party. this tux is feelin' kinda starchy. but i like it. / i come on the silver screen. in a high-speed car chase scene. i could get away, but i love the chase, man. everyone's after me.

BLOODLINE - NORTHLANE FT. HEALTH. i can't escape you. no matter how far i run. i can't erase you. from who i've become. memories coursing through my veins. like the scars in yours, my roots remain. / i was raised in hell. i made it out by myself. i was raised to bleed.

WE ARE WHO WE ARE - MISSIO. it's not unusual to feel a little lonely. but sometimes loneliness can lead to better things. it's not unusual to feel a little guilty when sometimes guiltiness can show you a little more. why do we try to live a lie? it isn't worth it. who you tryna please? 'cause if it's me, it isn't working. we are who we are. that can be hard to accept. we are who we are. there's no reason to regret. we are who we are. life can be a punch to the chest. we are who we are. that can be hard to accept. you don't need to worry 'bout a thing. we are all fucked up human beings.

UGLY FRIENDS - POOLFIRE. i've made amends with my ugly friends. hard to pretend i like to be around them. and sometimes i want to take my fist and throw it through the wall. i know who my friends are and i don't like them at all. behind a beautiful smile all i'm thinking about is myself. when i'm with my friends i'd rather be somewhere else. / i can't feel anything anymore. not anything and i suck the blood from the dirt. wear it in my teeth. look me in my eyes. i-

OFF THE EDGE - HELLOVE FT. ZACK GRAY. i’m drowned in fears. i know i owe you one right into the sea of julia. i color my heart for you and set the walls on fire. now i've fallen into the same lies and i loath it. and i hope that i don't fold, i know. there's nothing here. and i’m holding on to what i lost. i know that. / working down my feelings just to say that i’m sorry. caught up in a maze of all the things that are not me. i buried my faults from you. i let the old grow tired. and i’ve already put my faith in how you saw fit.

[monsoonblooms12]

The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

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@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

[tolkien-feels]

underrated book of lost tales scene is AFTER the whole debacle at Utumno where Tulkas almost got publicly tortured, the Valar are at the trial and are like what should we do with Melko and Tulkas raises his hand and is like oh oh oh I know! unchain him and then me and him go out into the lawn and we fight and we don't have to listen to him anymore!

and then Manwë tells him gently to calm down :/

two takeaways of this are:

1. Tulkas is pretty noble to offer to fight Melkor *on equal ground* after Melkor tries to hurt him while Tulkas was in chains. There's something very pure about Tulkas and I love him. (also there are some weird similarities between him and Húrin if you want me to get out my elaborate theory hat)

2. Imagine if someone was on trial and a member of the jury or bench off judges raised their hand and said this trial is stupid let me go fight the defendant outside and let's be done with it.

-@outofangband

@outofangband YES!!! BoLT!Tulkas doesn't quite seem to grasp how courts of law work. To be fair to him, that entire trial is such a mess, kudos to Manwe for not losing his cool. Yavanna is crying, Aule is mad that Yavanna is crying, Ulmo and Vana are as pissed off as they ever get, Mandos and Lorien aren't helping in any way shape or form, Makar is straight up going "I think we should let him go free so we can continue to beat him up every now and then, peace is overrated" and Tulkas storms off halfway through. Like??? The CHAOS of it all! That Manwe even attempts to be a respectable judge who hears everybody out is admirable. If I were him I'd have told everybody to shut up!

Anyway, I actually think purity is one of the things I associate most strongly to Tulkas, especially in contrast to Makar, or even to Orome. Tulkas isn't bloodthirsty, he's just an eye for an eye kind of guy. I have no doubt that if he felt like he'd hurt someone, he'd be fine with being hurt in return. He's not the most peacemaking of the Ainur but he's extremely just and I really appreciate that.

Also I'd be willing to beg you to tell me more about Tulkas and Hurin, because I can't say that's a parallel that's ever occurred to me but now that you've pointed out I think I can see it and would love to know more!

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

WISH COME TRUE

One-shot #: 27

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: What is there to say but… HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMI!!!

Summary: Birthday wishes might be overrated but not when they are made to come true.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMI!!!”

The whole crew greeted in unison the moment the orange-haired navigator stepped inside the decorated galley—in the midst of popping confetti, clapping and shouting.

Their voices were surprisingly in sync and Nami wondered if they practiced the greeting days before her birthday or they were just that enthusiastic.

“Ah! Minna! Thank you!” She gushed as she looked at the happy, grinning faces of her crewmates and her own smile widened some more.

The room was filled with balloons in different colors of orange, white and silver. Some were floating up the ceiling with glittering streamers hanging down from them. Others were scattered all over the galley floor. There were letter balloons at the far end of the room with the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY spelled out.

The Straw Hats went all out with the decorating and Nami can’t help but be pleased.

“You guys… this is wonderful!” She exclaimed as a whirl of hearts appeared suddenly in front of her.

“Nami-swan! Happy birthday!” Sanji stopped twirling and dropped down on one knee in front of the mapmaker. He held her hand in his, bowing slightly before planting a kiss on it. “Your birthday feast is ready my sweet mellorine!”

“Arigatou, Sanji-kun!” Nami glanced at the table, filled with delicious food and desserts, with a beautifully made three-tier cake in the middle, complete with sparklers.  “Everything looks amazing!”

“Anything for you my love!” The blond cook sang and froze in happiness when Nami blew him a kiss.

“Nami! Happy birthday!” Chopper cheerily approached her and took her other hand, tugging her towards the direction of the table. They left Sanji, still frozen and kneeling down on one knee.

“Thank you Chopper!” She lifted him up and kissed his cheek. Chopper blushed and giggled and pointed towards the cake. “Time to blow the candles and make a wish.”

“Yeah!” Luffy shouted, eyes sparkling from too much excitement at the food in front of him. “Come on Nami hurry, hurry!”

Nami just chuckled at her captain’s impatience. Normally that would earn him a knuckle on the head but since this day is special… she decided to just let it go.

“Alright. Alright!” She said as she approached the table. She smiled at Robin, Franky and Brook as they all greeted her before marveling at the astounding cake in front of her.

“Wow!” She breathed out.

“Make a wish Nami!” Chopper said as he jumped on the empty dining chair to get a good view when she finally blew the candles out.

“Faster witch,” Zoro drawled on her other side. He was sitting on the chair on her left, already enjoying a tankard of his favorite alcohol. “Luffy’s about to turn rabid from hunger.”

She narrowed her eyes at him yet he only smirked at her, muttering a ‘happy birthday’ before taking a drink from his mug as Luffy chanted ‘meshi! meshi!’ in the background.

“Come on birthday girl!” Usopp coerced her. “Make a wish and then blow the candles!”

“Oi you idiots! Don’t rush Nami-san!” Sanji bellowed as he finally recovered from Nami’s earlier blown kiss.

“It’s alright Sanji-kun!” Nami’s smile at him was enough to stop the chef in his tracks as hearts started popping out from him. She closed her eyes, silently making some wishes from her heart, before taking a deep breath and blowing the cake’s candles so they can start the celebration.

Cheers broke out when she was able to blow them all in one go. Chopper was elatedly announcing how her wish will come true because of that.

Nami certainly hope so.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Usopp hollered as Sanji took her hand again to guide her to the seat at the head of the table—something Luffy graciously gave up for Nami’s special day (with some cajoling and promises of meat).

“It’s time to celebrate Nami’s birthday!!!”

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

“Gimme.”

Zoro paused in the middle of bringing his mug to his lips when Nami held out her hand to him, her palm facing upward.

“What?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Nami thrust her hand closer to his face, her fingers moving in a give me motion.

Zoro just continued looking at her blankly.

She made a face at him. “Gosh Zoro. Even Luffy has given me something for my birthday.”

“Tch.”

Nami sighed, resting both hands on her hips. No use teasing this surly swordsman if he have a birthday present for her.

Because the answer’s most likely no.

Well she was expecting it. But of course that doesn’t mean she wasn’t disappointed.

She just decided to shove that thought down the deepest recesses of her mind and just enjoy her birthday celebration.

“You going anywhere tomorrow?” Zoro suddenly asked just when she was about to turn her back on him.

“Huh?” She blinked curiously at him. “Why?”

Zoro regarded her for a moment. “Let’s go somewhere.”

Nami’s ears perked up at that and her eyes widened. Go somewhere?

Did he just… did he mean…

“Where?” She inquired almost breathlessly, her heart racing.

Zoro smirked. “You’ll find out tomorrow.” He stood up and made a grab for the bottle half-filled with sake. “Happy Birthday Nami.” With that he moved to exit the galley to head to the nest for his watch, leaving her dumbfounded.

Honestly… did he just like… ask her out?

Seems like one of her birthday wishes will come true after all.

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

“So where are we going?”

That was the first thing Nami asked Zoro when they met each other on the deck the next morning after breakfast.

“Didn’t Robin tell you?” The swordsman frowned at her.

“Robin?”

“Yeah. Robin’s coming with us.”

“Oh.” Nami blinked. Robin’s coming with them? The archaeologist didn’t mention anything about that last night before they went to bed.

Yet she nodded to show her agreement and understanding… even if she doesn’t really get it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” Zoro assured her, when he saw her doubtful expression. “Just don’t wear any of those pointy shoes you fancy.”

Nami stared hard at him. She shouldn’t wear pointy shoes? Does he mean high heels?

Why? Where are they going?

“Ara… are you two ready?” Robin’s soft voice put a stop to their conversation. The raven-haired beauty was walking towards them, dressed in her hiking gear.

Nami looked at Zoro inquisitively who just nodded at her. “We’ll go once Nami’s ready.” Then he walked away from her and headed towards the boy’s quarters… probably to change as well.

“Not a problem,” Robin smiled at him then at Nami.

“Oi!!! Luffy suddenly shouted as he bounded across the lawn, full of energy, with his adventure backpack already on his back. “Let’s get going! Sanji! Where’s our bento?!”

“Damn it aho sencho!” The blond cook shouted from the galley. “Can you just wait?!”

“Are you still not ready Nami?” Usopp walked past her, eyeing her up and down as he adjusted the straps of his own backpack.

“Ok wait.” Nami held up a hand in a stopping motion. Everyone is in their hiking-slash-explorer apparels. “What is happening? Are we all going?”

“Of course!” Luffy said, pumping both arms up in the air. “It’s an adventure!”

“Definitely!” Usopp frowned at her, offended that she sound disappointed that they will be joining them.

Nami mirrored his expression. “But…”

Usopp raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Wait don’t tell me you think this is gonna be just you and Zoro?”

“No!” Nami growled under her breath, inwardly horrified that Usopp somehow sensed that. “Where did that even come from?!”

How in the world did they all know about today? She was pretty sure she was the only one Zoro asked last night.

The grin that appeared on Usopp’s face was evil. “Oh. You do think it’s just gonna be the two of you?”

“WHAT?!”

“Oooh… I did hear him tell you.” the sharpshooter cooed as her face turned red. “But Robin also told us last night that we’ll all be heading somewhere today.”

Nami’s frown deepened at that. So… they weren’t actually going to be alone today. She honestly thought that was the case.

Because as far as she knows… she was the only one he asked.

Well… it wasn’t though.

Nami shoulders slumped dejectedly. This is Zoro they’re talking about. There is a much better chance of trying to shoot at the moon and hitting it. “I’ll just go and get changed so we can head out to wherever we are going.” She mumbled glumly.

So much for one of her birthday wishes coming true.

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

“Where are we heading?” Nami muttered under her breath as she trudged along the dense jungle trail, shoving away the enormous plant leaves that were blocking their path.

She had been rather excited about today last night. Right after Zoro told her they were going somewhere.

They. Them and their crew.

She pouted as felt annoyance stirring up inside her. She felt rather cheated. Not to mention, they had been hiking for about an hour now and she was getting tired. Robin has kept mum about where they were going. The same goes for Zoro, who was already a closemouthed person to begin with.

Between Luffy’s constant hollering, Usopp complaining, Chopper getting excited with all the plant life growing along the trail, Zoro and Sanji’s bickering every ten minutes and this excursion turning out to be one big of a disappointing trip… she was about to reach her breaking point.

“Are you ok Nami?”

Robin had stopped walking to wait for her, with a gentle smile gracing her lips. But Nami can see how brightly her usually cool blue eyes were shining from excitement.

Wherever they are heading… Robin’s eager to get to it as fast as possible.

But she still doesn’t get it why Zoro asked her last night. Robin could’ve just told her that she was planning on a hiking trip to the jungle… just right after her birthday.

“Where are we going Robin?” Nami can’t stop herself from asking. She watched as the boys continued moving forward, noisy as ever. She wouldn’t be surprised if they provoked whatever animals are lurking in this place because of racket they are making.

Good thing Franky and Brook decided to stay behind… or it’ll be much noisier.

“Are you alright?” Robin inquired again. “Just a few more kilometers and we’ll be there.”

“Where and what is there?”

“Something that you like.”

Nami looked startled at that. Then she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You know Zoro said the same thing.”

Robin chuckled.

“Robin come on! Spill! Tell me something!” Nami whined.

The older woman just smiled at her. “Let’s go before the boys take a wrong turn or lose Zoro.”

“Just let him get lost. We have Chopper. We’ll find him later.” Nami huffed as she followed Robin who had resumed trekking.

“That would be a shame.”

“Why?!”

Robin glanced behind her mischievously. “Wherever we are going… Zoro has something for you there.”

That made Nami stop in her tracks.

Zoro has something for her?

Robin chuckled again as she watched Nami’s eyes widened.

“Let’s get going shall we Nami?”

This time the navigator followed her almost immediately in stunned silence.

Is that why Zoro told her they were going somewhere today? Because he actually has something for her?

Her birthday present?

Nami fought the smile that was threatening to appear on her lips. Robin’s sharp eyes might notice that she is excited about this.

A few more minutes of marching along the trail and Nami can’t help but ask.

“What does he have for me anyway? And why is it inside this jungle?” Nami muttered darkly. She was excited at the thought of getting a gift from the ever-stoic swordsman but seriously, this non-stop hiking is slowly dampening her enthusiasm.

Robin glanced back at her amusedly. “It’s a actually surprise. You don’t like surprises?”

“From Zoro?” Nami blinked at that. “That thought is already a surprise in itself. Seriously, I don’t think he’s capable of doing anything like this.” She glared at the idiot mosshead who were walking a few feet ahead of them. “Besides what kind of surprise is this that you have to exert so much effort to get it?”

The archaeologist giggled at her impatience. “Well to be honest, with a right push he is capable of anything. Give our swordsman some credit. Besides… as I have said you will like it.”

Nami buried to her side. “You’re behind this?”

“Hmm… yes and no.”

“Robin! Stop teasing me!”

Robin turned to her and smiled that certain mysterious smile of hers.

“Let’s just say, Zoro stumbled upon something in this place.”

“You mean he got lost again and accidentally found something here right?”

“Fufufu… yes.”

Nami pondered at the information she had been given. What is in this place that she likes?

Based on all the green foliage around her… there is nothing here that piques her interest.

So what the hell?

She glanced at Robin who had an almost serene expression on her face. Yet she was moving a bit faster than before. The boys had already disappeared from their sight. A few seconds passed and there were a lot of shouting and yelling ahead of them.

Robin motioned for her to pick up her pace. Ahead of them, multiple hands bloomed to part the gigantic leaves and branches that were blocking their path so they can easily make their way through it.

“Zoro accidentally found this place,” Robin explained. “And I stumbled across him here while I was out exploring yesterday.”

They reached the end of the trail. And Nami stared in awe at the scene before her.

A few feet ahead of them were ancient stone ruins of what could be a palace or a temple.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Robin murmured as she made her way towards the place.

The boys have now wandered off to explore the place. Nami can hear their excited voices echoing along the vast abandoned site.

But this is something that Robin likes… not her. She couldn’t understand what’s in it that both Zoro and Robin think she’ll like.

Robin approached Zoro who was standing before a rather large boulder that was blocking the entrance towards what Nami could make out as a stone chamber.

She slowly followed her and watched as Zoro drew out one of his katanas and effortlessly sliced the boulder into pieces. He kicked off some of the rubbles, clearing the area as Robin beckoned for Nami to come closer.

Nami could make out a hole on the ground. Her questioning gaze met Robin’s and the older woman just smiled at her.

“Happy birthday again Nami.” And with that she left Zoro and her alone as she headed towards the now accessible chamber to explore what was inside.

Zoro was dusting his hands on his pants. “Let’s go.” He said.

“Go where?”

He pointed to the rather large hole on the ground.

Nami stared at him with wide eyes. It was then that she realized that the boulder earlier was meant to cover the hole rather than block the chamber’s entrance.

“Nuh-uh.” She stubbornly folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t like gaping dark holes that looks like it’s gonna swallow you and make you disappear to oblivion.”

Zoro chuckled at her reaction. “Don’t be such a chicken Nami. You’ll like what’s down there.”

“Why is your gift for me down there?”

He frowned. “Robin told you?”

“Yeah.”

He scratched the back of his head.

“It better be not the entrance to hell Zoro!”

“If it is then I would be dragging you to it! Not asking you to jump down with me!”

“Do you need any help?” Robin’s voice suddenly spoke out of nowhere, interrupting their brewing verbal battle. A hand had bloomed out from one of the stone columns surrounding them, unsurprisingly with a mouth on it.

“Nah I got this.” Zoro replied, scooping Nami into his arms suddenly.

“Zoro!!!”

With a shark-like grin, he leapt down the hole.

Nami screamed bloody murder at his ear, her arms clinging around his neck as hard as she could to the point of almost choking him.

They hit the ground not shortly after. And Nami’s screamed was suddenly brought to a halt. She realized it wasn’t the hole wasn’t as deep as she initially thought it was.

But it was still dark… and scary. And her heart was still racing and thudding against her chest.

If this is Zoro’s gift for her… she would maim him with his own swords once they get back to the Sunny.

Zoro set her down to her feet. But Nami did not remove her arms around his neck and clung tighter even as she glared at him in the dark.

She can hear him chuckling at her expense; feel him reaching down his pocket to pull something out.

There was a flicking sound and light suddenly filled the room. Zoro was grinning down at her, holding a lighter that he probably snagged from Sanji-kun’s collection.

“Happy Birthday Nami.”

And as the light slowly lit the room and bounced against some reflective surfaces, so did Nami’s eyes as it widened with the realization of what was really Zoro’s birthday present for her.

He had stumbled upon a chamber in the ruins filled with treasure.

And it was all for her.

Zoro just made some of her birthday wishes come true.

[carolisedits]

this hope is treacherous, a delicia breakup playlist {daphne & felicia}

I. Love of My Life - Queen

“Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart And now you leave me Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it means to me You will remember When this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older I will be there at your side To remind you how I still love you”

II. Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers

“Ain't no sunshine when she's gone It's not warm when she's away Ain't no sunshine when she's gone And she's always gone too long Anytime she goes away“

III. . - Girl in Red

“When I see you with her It only gets worse And oh, how it hurts I can't say 'Cause I'm all out of words Lost on this Earth Just floating around Someone help me down It's been so hard Ever since you broke my heart But I'll never tell Honey, I'm not doing so well It's not your fault I could've done more Like being upfront Honest about what I want But it's not like me To just say what I feel Though I feel it, it's real“

IV. Slow Dancing - Aly & Aj

“It's been days and weeks and months Feels like forever since I saw you I'm forgetting how you felt now I've never had this much time on my hands Move the kitchen table out to the lawn Roll up the rug the stereo's on All I can imagine is being in your arms I want you to knowI don't need anything fancy I just need me and you slow dancing Hell's bending keeping me captive Heaven's here it's right where you're standing I've got my reasons to complain And they're tangled in red white and blue The battle outside is blazing And all I'm thinking about is you”

V. Talia - King Princess

“Hey, my love I buried you a month or two ago I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor That you're waiting there for me But four drinks I'm wasted I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you At the foot of my bed If I drink enough I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you But it's all in my head If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you“

VI. From the Dining Table - Harry Styles

“We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever be the first one to break? I saw your friend that you know from work He said you feel just fine I see it's written, it's all over his face Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever say what you want to say? Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too But you, you never doWoke up the girl who looked just like you I almost said your name“

VII. This is Me Trying - Taylor Swift

“I've been having a hard time adjusting I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that I just wanted you to know that this is me trying They told me all of my cages were mental So I got wasted like all my potential And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you“

VIII. Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers

“I hate you for what you did And I miss you like a little kid I faked it every time, but that's alright I can hardly feel anything, I hardly feel anything at all I have emotional motion sickness Somebody roll the windows down There are no words in the English language I could scream to drown you out”

IX. se essa vida fosse um filme - Giulia Be

“Se essa vida fosse um filme Eu só queria ver você Naquelas cenas calientes Que meu irmão não me deixa ver E eu seria a tua donzela Baby, vem me salvar Porque eu até faria sozinha Mas perderia a graça Não olha assim pra mim que eu não sei segurar Te conheço e já conheço essa maldade nesse olhar Não olha assim pra mim que eu não sei segurar Jogo a mão pro céu que eu sei que hoje eu vou gritar”

X. I Wish - Hayley Kiyoko

“I wish, I wish, I wish I found love I don't know where we're gonna go from here, I don't You shut down when I tell you all the shit I want We butt heads, you don't pay me no attention And you're selfish with your affection, yeah You don't like when I decide to speak my mind No, you don't like that I do what I want, like, all the time You don't care, it's a storm in my iris 'cause you lied You don't mind that it's raining oceans from my eyes Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever let me in I wonder if I'm ever gonna find somebody I cry and I cry and I cry and I cry out to the heavens Why won't you just send me somebody?"

XI. Treacherous - Taylor Swift

“Put your lips close to mine As long as they don't touch Out of focus, eye to eye 'Til the gravity's too much And I'll do anything you say If you say it with your hands And I'd be smart to walk away But you're quicksand This slope is treacherous This path is reckless This slope is treacherous And I, I, I like itI can't decide if it's a choice Getting swept away I hear the sound of my own voice Asking you to stay And all we are is skin and bone Trained to get along Forever going with the flow But you're friction”

XII. If You Leave Me Now - Chicago

“If you leave me now You'll take away the biggest part of me Ooh-ooh, no, baby please don't go And if you leave me now You'll take away the very heart of me A love like ours is love that's hard to find How could we let it slip away? We've come too far to leave it all behind How could we end it all this way? When tomorrow comes and we'll both regret The things we said today“

[when-they-write-stuff]

I have a prompt for you if you’re not too busy with your WIPs. Stiles and Derek arguing whether Derek is uptight or not. To prove he isn’t Stiles dares Derek to kiss the first guy he sees, so Derek kisses Stiles much to Stiles’s surprise

I’m always down to write a Sterek prompt! And okay, this one is so cute, it had me going through a dozen different scenarios before I settled on one ;)

- -

The thing is, Stiles knew all about Derek Hale.

He knew Derek was an uptight Alpha werewolf who hated things like baby chicks and rainbows and chocolate. He knew this. He’d known ever since they first met and Derek had lobbed Scott’s inhaler at him like it was personally offensive or something.

Derek Hale— Mr. “This is Private Property” — Derek Hale was an uptight Alpha werewolf who needed to learn to relax. And Stiles was determined to teach him.

It started out with a water balloon fight. As most things do.

See, Stiles had started carrying around a packet of water balloons ever since summer started, but they hadn’t been for Derek. Not originally at least. They’d been for Jackson and occasionally Isaac, when he decided to wear a scarf in one hundred degree weather and Stiles felt he needed to be set in place.

But then one day during training, Derek decided to get grumpy about the pack taking a popsicle break. And Stiles knew something had to be done.

He attempted the peaceful approach at first. Read: the peaceful approach being him sticking one slightly melted blue popsicle in Derek’s face and insisting he enjoy himself for once.

“It’s blue raspberry, Derek!” Stiles said, poking Derek in the nose with the tip. Derek growled and tried to bat the popsicle away, but Stiles was determined. “Everybody likes blue raspberry!”

“I don’t,” Derek said, flashing red eyes at him. “Stiles, get that out of my face or I’m going to stuff it down your throat.”

“Fine, no blue raspberry. I’ll get you a cherry one!”

“I don’t want a popsicle,” Derek said, glaring. “I want a pack that doesn’t mess around and gets back in position when they’re told to. This is a training session, not a pool party.”

Stiles yanked the popsicle back with a frown. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Derek said, and flashed his eyes at the pack. A series of groans filled the air.

But one by one, the pack pushed themselves out of the shade of the Hale house porch and plodded back onto the lawn. Stiles clenched his jaw and turned away, stalking inside.

Derek didn’t even try to stop him.

But Stiles wasn’t planning to pout. Instead, he dug the packet of water balloons out of his pocket and started toward the kitchen sink. Lydia came in at one point, empty glass in hand, and proceeded to give him the most judgemental look possible. 

But Stiles only flashed her a smile and scooted over. To his delight, Lydia moved to his side and started to help. In less than ten minutes, they had a sink full of water balloons. All set and ready to go.

“You realize this is a bad idea, right?” Lydia said, glancing sideways. “Declaring war on a bunch of werewolves is basically having a death wish.”

“I’m not declaring war on the others,” Stiles said, grabbing two and turning away. “I’m declaring war on Derek Hale, the most uptight and grumpy Alpha werewolf to every grace Beacon Hills with his eyebrows.”

Lydia’s chuckle followed him. Stiles made it to the porch and smiled at Derek’s back, weighing the water balloons in each hand.

“Oh, Derek?”

Derek turned around with an unimpressed expression. 

But, seeing Stiles and the balloons he held, his eyes widened. In a second, Stiles had nailed him with the first one, the red balloon exploding against his unfairly solid chest.

The rest of the pack stopped training. Derek stood still for a moment and stared at Stiles, his chest now outlined nicely by his damp t-shirt, and Stiles chuckled nervously, lifting the other water balloon.

“Uh, cool the fuck down?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, eyes bleeding to red. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Only if you catch me first!”

Stiles yelped as Derek leaped forward and lobbed the other water balloon forward, catching him in the shoulder this time. Derek roared and started after him and Stiles squeaked even louder, stumbling into the living room.

Lydia watched from her place on the couch, one delicately manicured brow arching upward as Stiles ducked behind her. She closed her book a fraction and glanced up at him.

“I’m not getting caught in the middle of this, Stiles.”

From the other side of the couch, Derek glared. “Stiles, get over here.”

“No way!”

“Stiles, I’m not going to kill you. I just… want to talk.”

Stiles barked out a terrified laugh. “That’s what they always say, big guy, right before ripping out the side character’s throat or something. And I’m a side character! I don’t feel like dying today!”

“Stiles—” Derek started around the couch and Stiles scrambled in the other direction. Coming to a pause, Derek glared at him again. “Come here, now.��

“No way, you uptight grump! I’m standing for pack freedom! For token human rights! For popsicle breaks on days when it’s a hundred degrees outside!”

Derek’s eyes flashed again and he opened his mouth— but before he could say a word, another water balloon was sailing through the air.

This time, it wasn’t Stiles who had thrown it.

The balloon exploded against Derek’s head and his eyes rounded, mouth still wide open. Water dripped from his hair into his eyes and Stiles spun around, catching a grinning Erica standing in the doorway with three more balloons cradled in her arms.

“Hey, Batman, you looked like you could use a hand.”

“Catwoman, you precious, beautiful, amazing—” Stiles cut off with a yelp as she nailed in him the chest. The grin on her face turned feral.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s every man for himself.”

“Traitor!”

Erica cackled and took off out the door and Stiles scrambled toward the kitchen, only to duck back around the corner when a water balloon exploded against the wall where his face had been. Squawking, he peered around again, and saw Isaac smirking at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, Stilinski.”

“You have no right to use badass one-liners, scarf boy!”

Isaac started toward him and Stiles scrambled in the other direction, ducking through the second door that led to the kitchen. As quickly as he could, he scooped up a handful of water balloons and then took off toward the porch.

The front yard was chaos.

Scott had also gotten his hands on some when Derek had been threatening Stiles’s life and Jackson was half-shifted— which wasn’t good for anyone. Boyd and Erica were nowhere in sight, but Stiles wouldn’t put an alliance beyond them.

He started toward the edge of the preserve, back toward the trees as he kept both eyes on the lawn. And then the porch door opened again and he froze as Derek stepped out, arms laden with water balloons.

Stiles’s heart stopped. Red eyes cut across the lawn toward him and the smirk on Derek’s face could only be described as feral.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, turning around and fleeing into the trees. Lydia was right, this was a bad idea. He had a death wish. He wasn’t going to live to see another summer.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but Stiles didn’t dare look back. He raced around the back of the house and started toward the basement door, but didn’t make it before something red was sailing through the air and hit him so hard in the shoulder, Stiles went stumbling.

He tripped over his own feet and went sprawling, all of his water balloons popping against his chest on impact. Stiles groaned and pushed himself up a few inches, before flipping around and gazing at the smirking werewolf who approached.

“Look,” Stiles said, scrambling back. “Derek, Sourwolf, my Alpha o’ Alpha, don’t you think revenge is a little overrated? I mean, come on, shouldn’t we be joining against the masses instead of turning on each other? Think about Erica! Think about Jackson!”

“I’m thinking about how you talk too much,” Derek said, towering over him. “I’ve told you that before, right?”

“I’d like to plea the first.”

Derek held one balloon over his head and let it fall, and Stiles yelped as it exploded in his hair. He glowered up at Derek before shoving himself to his feet.

“Fine, Sourpuss, hit me with your best shot. If only a little loosening up will finally make you unclench and eat a popsicle for once—”

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“Seriously what, you grump?”

One of the balloons popped in Derek’s hand, he was gripping it so hard. Stiles tried not to feel too threatened by that. “Why do you care so much? Why are you acting so juvenile?”

“Juvenile? Juvenile? Me, juvenile? You’re the one that refuses to like blue raspberry!”

“I don’t think that makes me—”

“No, Derek, no,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “You’re the big bad uptight Alpha werewolf who grumps, we get it. But it’s not that hard to unwind and enjoy yourself once in a while, you know. This is a pack house, not a training yard!”

Derek clenched his jaw, glaring at him. “I’m not uptight.”

Stiles huffed. “Sure.”

“I’m not.”

“Then go eat a popsicle.”

“No.”

“Go engage the others with water balloons.”

“No.”

“Then dammit, Derek, do something! Smile a little, make a joke. Eat a chocolate bar without looking like you’re ready physically dying. Give Jackson a hug! Kiss a stranger!”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. Stiles close his eyes and thought about how far that’d just gotten before silently groaning. Slowly, he opened them again.

“I didn’t mean like, half of that.”

“Good, because those are all stupid and I’m not doing them.”

“Dammit, Derek, seriously? It is possible to go out on a limb once in a while and—”

Derek cut him off with a growl, moving forward. Before Stiles even had a chance to react, Derek’s water balloons were exploding at his feet, there were two hands on the side of his head, and Derek was kissing him. 

Derek Hale was kissing him. Like, without trying to rip his face off, kissing him.

Stiles froze and in a second, Derek was drawing back, eyes wide and apologetic. He looked downright shocked at his own actions. The man opened his mouth— no doubt to say something stupid— and Stiles couldn’t have that.

Before Derek could backtrack, Stiles moved forward and shoved their lips together again. It was uncoordinated, messy, and Derek growled again, which made Stiles shiver with nerves. He felt Derek card a hand through his soaked hair. There was water on the man’s upper lip.

“This,” Stiles said in a gasp, not willing to break away yet. “Was not what I expected when I said ‘go out on a limb’.”

“Stiles, shut up.”

“Do I taste like blue raspberry, Sourwolf?”

Derek kissed him harder and Stiles wondered if this was going to happen more often now that it was a clear method of shutting him up. He decided he really didn’t mind. Derek could shut him up whenever he wanted to.

But, because they were in a pack of assholes, a sharp whistle suddenly shattered the air, ruining the moment.

Stiles stumbled back and Derek’s face turned bright red as he spun around. Standing at the corner of the house was the rest of the pack, all looking surprised and disturbed. Other than Erica, that is.

She was grinning from ear to ear. And Lydia just looked unfairly smug.

They were also all holding water balloons.

“Uh, guys?” Stiles said, moving a step back. “I trust this isn’t an interference and those aren’t meant for us? Or at least not me.”

“Well,” Erica said, smirking. “They were meant for Derek but clearly an alliance has been made—”

Stiles was already running. He heard Derek bark his name and laughed hysterically as heavy footsteps caught up with him. Running faster, Stiles thought declaring war on a bunch of werewolves was both the worst and the best thing he’d ever done.

Derek left him behind without hesitation. 

Stiles was taken out first.

And he refused to acknowledge the Alpha’s presence until he kissed him again that night; and this time, Derek tasted like blue raspberry.

Things might have been forgiven then.

- -

Okay, now I can feel like I’ve been productive today. Thanks for the prompt, my friend! I had so much fun with it <3

(Support your overcaffinated (so much so) student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[homosociallyyours]

Nosy meme: 2, 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, 22, 29, 33, 47, 50. 💜

OMG thank you Brynn!! So many questions to answer :) I’m putting it under a cut bc I know it’s gonna get long...AND YES IT DID. 

2) What are you obsessed with right now? Below Deck, this ridiculous Bravo show that follows a charter yacht through an 8 week season of trips. It’s dramatic and full of wealthy people like most Bravo shows, BUT it’s also following the people who staff the boat, not the guests, so it’s more relatable than Real Housewives. I just wrote a one shot ficlet about 2 of the women on one of the more recent seasons yesterday. Ridiculous. 

6) Describe your dream home. I feel like I always have a slightly different answer for this. Right now: my ideal home would be pretty small, maybe 700-800 sq ft, with a single bedroom, painted a vibrant pink and accented with green and white (think climbing vines with tiny, bright white blooms) and a small alcove done in a pale blue that housed a murphy bed for guests. The kitchen would be ultra organized to optimize space (I would NOT be the one to do this) and would be equipped with an air fryer, slow cooker, instant pot, and microwave in addition to standard brand new appliances. There’s a fold down table that can seat up to 4 in the kitchen, though it’s usually just set up for me. The bathroom has a shower done with celadon green tile with a bench seat built in and glass doors. The living room is small and simple, but there’s a big comfortable grey couch and a tv. The whole house has hardwood floors, and the windows each have a bit of stained glass in them up top so the light is sometimes colored as it filters in. There’s a covered carport with a doggie bath area and a chest freezer, and in the fenced back yard there’s a hot tub and comfortable lounging furniture among all the greenery. The house doesn’t have a lawn tho, fuck that. You can’t hear sounds from the street-- it’s a quiet house. I live alone unless i want a visitor. It sounds so nice.  

12) What’s one of your fantasies? Having my dream home as above, lol. But really my most typical fantasy is being able to afford a weekend away at a fancy airbnb by the ocean that allows dogs. It turns out the owner is fat butch dyke who loves dogs and we end up playing scrabble together sitting at a picnic table outside. She offers to cook me dinner; I put together a cheese plate while she grills steaks and broccoli, and we basically fall in love, turning my silly 2 day vacation into a lifetime of slow, sweet, happy love. ://////////

13) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I would, maybe? But also idk bc they’re extremely sensitive already and I don’t want them to lose sensation BUT i also don’t want them to be more sensitive bc that could cause legit problems. 

19) If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to? Nah, I like my name. Though if I were going to change it I think I would just go by a variation of my first name-- Dottie. 

20) What is something you’re obsessed with? Other than Below Deck? Yorkshire Gold tea. I bought it bc Louis Tomlinson drinks it and my whole life changed for the better. It’s SO FUCKING GOOD, ok? It rarely tastes bitter, even when you accidentally oversteep it, and the flavor and aroma are surprisingly complex for a simple black tea. I have been into teas since I was a teenager, and while I could never entirely give up some of my single origin black teas, Yorkshire Gold is my current (forever?) go to for a daily cuppa. 

22) Tag someone you think is hot. HELP I don’t experience attraction this way anymore :p Literally idk who to tag?? WAIT @mxaether!!! Kams is super hot in all the ways, I adore them so much. 

29) What’s the most overrated movie? In general anything directed or written by a white man who’s made lots of movies. I really try not to watch slogs like that anymore, but the last movie I watched that genuinely made me want to yell was The Dark Knight. Do I remember the plot? NO bc my ass was BORED BORED BORED and when I kinda thought it was about to be over NOPE! there was another hour of the movie left. Fuck that garbage. I haven’t seen it but I’m pretty sure I’d feel the same about that Snyder cut of Justice League. I read a long synopsis/breakdown of the movie (from someone who loved it!!!) and spent the whole time frowning with disgust bc it sounded like The Worst Thing I Could Ever Sit Through. 

33) If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? For the most part, not that different? I would have an endless supply of incredibly soft, comfy leggings with bright, eye-catching colors and patterns along with stretchy, form fitting dresses that were equally loud. Soft, loafer style slippers in a variety of colors. All my under things would be high end and custom made (also colorful! no white underpants! ever!) I would also have access to ultra fancy party clothes: stretchy, body con jumpsuits with plenty of sparkle (picture: a coppery jumpsuit that fits tight through the hips and ends with a high waist, the top slit in a deep V but draping softly with a bit of volume. The back has a light, diaphanous, cape of sorts), twirly dresses, etc. Everything is INCREDIBLY comfortable and easy to move in, but glam and fun and whimsically sexy?  

47) If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick? None celebrity, left beef. :P Truthfully tho it’s Alex Guarnaschelli...she cooks for me, I serve her in any and every way she wants or needs. Would also say Lizzo but I worry that her partying days are still here and I know I wouldn’t be able to keep up. 

50) What’s your favorite kind of weather? Sunny but breezy, almost cool in the shade, for midday. In the evening the temperature drops enough that you’re grateful for a sweater but not so much that you’re ever actually chilled, and around 2am there’s a light but steady rain for an hour or two that’s barely noticeable by noon the next day. 

If anyone read all of these and for some reason wants to send me more, the asks are here

[chromatic-lamina]

law and robin brotp fanfic excerpt

Again, from a longer darker multi-chaptered piece, though the excerpt isn’t dark. The below is a T-rating at the most. The fic isn’t though, so I won’t link. This is a post-canon world where Luffy is the pirate king. Law is recovering at Robin’s from Doflamingo menace. Benn is a lawyer in this post-canon world. The content fairly light. The Franky joke is an ongoing thing throughout this story. This scene is set before the (platonic) lawbin I posted previously. Enjoy (but excuse the shitty graphics. Sorry).

It was just as well she knew him so well. He smelled of grass, sun and the aftertaste of fear; the sting of anger, and the warmth of protection as the neighbour's two year old dog snuggled into the crook of his arm and rested his snout on his chest. 

The dog lifted his head and sneezed twice, spraying Robin with canine snot, before lowering his jaw flat onto Law again.

Robin was pushed up against Law's shoulder on the grass. He'd shambled her there as she'd stepped out to hang clothes on the line, deciding to do it herself rather than using her fruit. Now her fruit was busy though, sorting through the pegs, and colour-coding them to the garments. She should've just engaged it in the first place. The work ethic was overrated.

"He's sorry," Law said, scritching the pup's hard head.

Robin looked across at the dog, so at ease on the surgeon's chest, so unaware that there was anything wrong with sneezing all over her.

"No he's not."

Law smiled into the sun.

"And neither are you," she added.

Law loosened his jaw. He couldn't get too warm on this day. As much sun as he soaked up, he needed more.

"Comfortable there, Nico-ya?" He freed his arm from between them, the other loosely on the pup, and folded it around her shoulders. "You find my company distasteful?"

"What would Franky say?" she asked. Law's shirt had the faint scent of cigarettes. He smoked when he was stressed, otherwise he preferred rollies packed with leaf. A mild buzz. On occasion.

"Robo-ya and I are in an open relationship," Law murmured. "I don't think he'd mind."

Relief prickled through her like the lawn pushing against her blouse. He still had it. Could still joke, step beyond everything that the media, Doflamingo, his own psyche, damned him by.

"You gonna survive this one, Flevance?"

Law looked up at the sky. A clear beautiful blue, not a cloud in sight. He could be hopeful on days like this. Doflamingo was all about entrance and show. No clouds to lasso eased air flow. "Yeah." The dog let out a small growl as Law changed position. He patted its fur absently.

.

Robin's fruit hands finished hanging the clothes. She set them to work picking up fallen leaves. Dumped them in the garden bag against the fence. 

 She lifted her fingers to his warm hand draping her shoulder. Inked fingers slinked through her own. "He almost killed you, Law. Being poorly judged by the town when he's ensured you're a pariah seems light punishment."

He ran his thumb over the mound of her wrist. Didn't answer. Doflamingo had almost killed him.  He loosened his grip and sat up, looking down at his friend, her dark hair spread over the grass, a spare hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

"What're you doing lounging down there? Didn't you have work to do?"

"Heh."

Since Law was up the dog was too. He wandered with a far too enthusiastic swing of his tail to Robin and licked her cheek. She sprouted a few hands and held the pup's wriggly hips, the appendage shading her forehead dispersing.

"Don't break his ribs."

As if.

"Whaddya call that hold?"

"Soothing the savage beast." She calmed the dog and Law's lap looked as good as any bed to lie in. It clumsily tripped over and lay down again.

"Sleepy, little fella?" The surgeon flicked the ears, velvet like a tanned animal hide, between his fingers. The dog shook his head in a twitchy muddle.

Robin had seen him tease Bepo the same way.

"Guess I'll run," he said.

She sighed.

"Fight?" He didn't know why he was playing for Robin's approval. He glanced her way a second.

"You shouldn't have to."

"Kill?"

"You have to ask?"

Law leaned backwards, his arms behind him. "I'm a doctor. Really hate taking life."

"Seems you're the only one who remembers that."

Law glanced disinterestedly at his upper arms. "Think it's the tatts that do it? Scream serial killer to you?"

"Murderous thug. Sewer rat. Something like that. Yeah."

"Thieving magpie?"

"You're giving magpies a bad name."

"True, they're beautiful birds." He straightened, ran his thumbnail across a bottom incisor. Liked to reassure himself of the thickness, the tactility of being. "Think I should change careers, assassin?"

"You want to be one or you insulting me?"

"Praising, Nico-ya. I only hang out with the best."

"We'll help, you know. Everyone will help."

"And then when Luffy lets them off with a pardon?"

"Don't talk with your mouthful."

Law removed his thumb, repeated himself. Wiped his hand on his jeans leg.

Ah yeah, maybe not everyone could be redeemed, she thought.

"Legal process?" Law asked.

"Benn?"

"There's few better."

Clutched. Law only imagined that word when he removed hearts and when he'd seen Robin use the technique to break necks. Twinge. Was twinge a better word? Something below the sternum twinged. Benn's cigarette shroud, swaggering flintlock, and easy confidence. His skyrocket intellect. His confidence in Law. He'd been skirting the idea of contacting him.

"Shanks and Benn helped out before." Not that he wanted to drag himself through the cesspit of memory he'd fled to find protection.

Robin knew.  "Law."

"Mmm?" His back was sore. He tipped to his side, head on his elbow, spilling the dog onto the lawn again. It scratched at the ground and ambled next door, back home, tail lazily wagging. Law patted at the dust kicked onto his thigh.

"Remember at Punk Hazard, Caesar squeezing your heart and..."

"Hurt like a motherfucker."

"But you survived it. Pretty easily."

"Hah. You shoulda seen the after-party with Vergo. If Smoker hadn't returned it dunno how things would've gone."

"But you tackled all that, you did all that, your art installation, screwing with Smoker's crew, screwing with our crew, taking on Vergo, without a freaking heart. You sliced up those yeti monsters, got us out of that cage. And it was hollow in here." She tapped her own chest.

"You getting metaphorical on me?"

"You and Zoro are the gold medalists of ennui, we get that. But neither of you are lacking here." She thumped her chest again.

"Neither Zoro nor I are anywhere near as well-endowed." Law rolled onto his back again.

"Fool. You been hanging out with Sanji and Brook?"

"Those nosebleeds of his are fascinating." He placed his hand on his body and felt the steady ba-da-boom behind his bazoomless chest. "There are limits to my powers, but yeah, they're pretty awesome."

"Fight them. Whichever way. Nowadays it doesn't have to be blood and guts. Don't let them get away with it. 

"Call Benn."

[nightashes]

Anxceit!! With Virgil having stood up for Janus, Virgil got hurt, and Janus now has to help him!!

You Help Me. I Help You.

a/n: Thanks so much for suggesting this! You’ll have to let me know what you think!

warnings: bullies. blood. violence.

ao3 version - writing masterlist

The sun is high in the sky. A few clouds drift by, wispy in appearance. As if an artist had taken a paintbrush and lightly blended them into the blue of the atmosphere. Janus sits amongst a collection of philosophy books, full of sticky notes and highlighter. His computer lies open in his lap, an empty word document stares out from the screen, mocking the student. Taunting him with the blinking of the text cursor, as more and more minutes pass without anything new to add to the page.

Janus has plenty to say on society. On morals he could rant for hours. Gender roles, he might as well clear his schedule for the day. But, the philosophy of love? He just couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Marriage is just a made up cultural obligation that society forces everyone to care about. Oh, these people love each other! Let’s spend all of our money on an unnecessary ceremony that will force the couple to stay together or face tons of debt to undo. And that’s just marriage. Romance in general is completely overrated, overpraised, and overdone. 

Janus sighs, shifting his capelet on his shoulders in agitation. With spring slowly turning to summer, his signature outfit was beginning to grow uncomfortable in the heat. But did Janus care? Absolutely not. Beauty was pain and he loves his bowler hat and capelet more than society loves its billionaires. 

He stares out across the campus lawn, scowling. The warm weather not only threatens his comfort but it has attracted hordes of students, crowding together to distract people like him that actually have papers to write. Warm weather is just awful. Truly horrid. Nothing good about it. He thinks to himself, watching a nearby group of students push and prod each other, their laughter loud and obnoxious. And to his left, another student, similarly dressed in dark clothing lounges beneath a tree. He spies Janus watching him and gesturing to the loud group rolls his eyes in annoyance. Janus smiles back, nodding in agreement. The purple clad student smirks. Flipping to a new page in his notebook. He begins sketching, quick and messily he runs his pen across the lined paper. Drawing hurriedly, and sneaking glances at the group before them. Catching Janus’s eye once done, he grins deviously. Flipping the notebook over, the student dramatically reveals a rather rough sketch of the three being attacked by a giant snake. Their shocked and terrified expressions caused the philosophy major to burst out into a deep and ruckus laughter. Booming out through the area, it shocks the offending group into silence. They turn around seeking the source of the sound. “What the fudge, you laugh like a Disney villain.” The one wearing a puka necklace calls out.

Janus stifles his chuckles, as the three make their way over to his position. “What are you even laughing at? Did your imaginary friend tell a joke?” A guy in a baseball cap, who thinks himself clever, speaks with bravado.

His friend with the sunglasses continues. “Are you seriously wearing a cape right now? What are you, some kind of nutcase?”

“A cape, I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to? I’m wearing a perfectly boring and unoriginal outfit just like you three fashionistas?” Janus speaks, sarcasm dripping with each word, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Did he just insult us?” Baseball cap questions. Genuinely looking confused. Janus can’t help but chuckle at the poor fellow.

“Oh, of course not. It was a compliment. I love it when people think wearing jeans and a t-shirt makes them an individual. You three must be so brave. I applaud you.” He slowly claps his hands, emphasizing each word. ”Good job on being so unique.”

Baseball Cap grabs the front of Janus’s jacket, lifting him up to a standing position. The brute leans in closely, his breath stinking of onions. He whispers menacingly. “You think you’re smarter than us? You think you’re better than us? You're wearing a frickin’ Halloween costume in April. You’re a freak.”

“Takes a freak to know a freak.” Janus breaks in. The brute throws him to the ground. He lands on his computer, a loud crack filling the air as the screen digs into his back. He winces painfully.

“HEY!” A voice, rough and angry, yells over the commotion. Janus rolls his head to the side, seeking the source of the shout. The darkly clad student is marching over, his fists are lowered to his side, his face dark, and his features pinched in rage. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” His voice booms, venom dripping from his words as he shoves his way through the group, trying to reach Janus. 

Puka necklace grabs the hood of his jacket. Yanking him back into the center of their crew. Sunglasses grasp the student’s chin, “Well, well, well, What do we have here? Does the freak have a friend?”

The student glares back daggers, opens his mouth, and seizes Sunglasses’s hand between his teeth. He bites down hard, eliciting a scream of pain. Puka Necklace yanks him away from Sunglasses, while Baseball Cap gives him a right-hook to the check. The student collapses to the ground. Sunglasses kicks him in the ribs, clutching onto his bleeding hand. He lets loose a string of curse words. Kicking out again at the already down student, before stomping off. His buddies follow, angrily yelling and gesturing maddeningly.

With them gone, Janus rushes to the fallen student. The injured man lies on the ground, curled into a fetal position. His arms wrapping around him in comfort and protection. Janus kneels beside his fellow student. 

“Hey, hey don’t worry. You’re okay.” He whispers assurances as his gloved hand rests on the boy’s shoulder.

The student weakly shoves his hand away. “Leave me alone.” He snarls, trying his best to rise. He manages to crouch onto his knees. His palms pressed into the fertile green grass of the campus lawn. He bends his fingers, digging his nails into the soil, breathing heavily from his mouth. A drop of blood is smeared across his lower lip. “I’ve got this.” The student sighs.

Janus appraises the stubborn student. “Yeah. I can see that.” He shakes his head in exasperation. The philosophy major sits there in silence, his chin resting in his hand as he watches the much too proud student attempt to stand. The purple clad man clutches his ribs as he brings his legs up beneath him. Trying to shift onto his feet, only to wobble and fall to his side. 

“Ugh, everything hurts.” He groans.

“Oh really? Because I thought you were doing great? But, please, do let me know if you need a hand?”

“I’m fine.” The student spits, lying on his back, clearly not fine.

Janus rolls his eyes at the obvious lie. “Are you always this stubborn or is it only on Tuesdays?”

The student shifts his eyes to the side, examining his odd companion. “Just Tuesday and Thursdays. Although on Sundays I flip a coin.”

An amused tsk escapes Janus’s lips. “Well, I do appreciate the help with that gang. Running in like you did. You’re a true hero.” Janus bats his eyes, while his “savior” scrunches his face in annoyance. 

“Oh har-de-har-har. You’re a real comedian.”

“No, really, I mean it. You… well.. You tried to help. And I suppose, that’s a nice thing to do. It’s a shame it backfired so spectacularly.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the story of my life, I suppose.”

“Things would probably go a little better if you’d let me help you. The name’s Janus by the way.” He sticks out a hand to the supine student.

“Virgil.’ His attempted savior answers, giving an odd two-finger salute in response.

Janus smiles, refusing to withdraw his hand. “Will you let me help you, Virgil?”

Virgil stares into the sky, genuinely considering his options. “I suppose I’ve already made a big enough fool of myself.” The purple student declares to the universe, finally taking hold of the offered hand.

The philosophy major growls at the self deprecation. “Wow, you truly are a fool.” Janus pulls his “savior” into a sitting position. 

Virgil winces at the movement. “Thanks for the motivation.” 

“No, really, you are an absolute fool. Stay here, I have some napkins in my bag.”

“Uhh...How am I a fool?” Virgil questions, watching Janus grab his bag and return, holding a napkin up to Virgil’s face. 

“The fact that you think accepting help makes you a fool.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Everyone needs help. Oh, thanks.” Virgil winces as Janus applies the napkin to his lip. 

“No, you clearly don’t get it. Hold that there.” Janus releases the napkin into Virgil’s grasp, pulling out his phone to text Remus. “My roommate is pre-med. I’ll see if he’s free. Can you lift up your shirt? I need to see your ribs.”

“Uhh.. is that necessary?” Virgil blushes red and well… Janus just couldn’t pass it up. He leans in. 

“Is something wrong? You’re flushing red?” He hurriedly removes a glove from his hand. Pressing his bare palm to the forehead of the injured student. He leans in close, smiling. “You’re not feverish. Could it be… that you find me attractive?” His smile is wicked.

Virgil scowls pushing him away. “Please, just because you’re dressed like a Disney villain, does not mean I think you’re cool or attractive or anything.”

“Wait.” Janus reels back. “You like my outfit?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s just so unashamedly you. And well, Disney villains are just cool.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Janus leans in close again. “But I still would like to check your ribs. If you’d allow me.”

“Ummm… okay.” He lifts his shirt up slowly. Revealing bruises that are already beginning to show. “Is that bad? That looks bad?”

“Absolutely not. Ribs are supposed to look like that.” Janus jokes. Virgil does not find it funny in the slightest. He sighs. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse than this.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. The roommate I mentioned. He gets into quite a few scrapes. He’s a lot like us. Unabashedly himself.” Janus speaks gently pressing his fingers to the ribs as Remus had taught him. 

Virgil winces at the touch. “Maybe that’s not the best thing to be.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Virgil. Being myself is why you find me attractive.”

Virgil blushes, spluttering. “What??”

“It’s okay.” Janus smirks. “It’s why I find you attractive too.”

Virgil is practically gasping for air, the poor fellow. Janus pulls Virgil’s shirt back into place. He rises to stare into his savior’s eyes. “Well, I think you’ll be fine until Remus gets here. Until then, do you think I could have your number?”

The purple student gulps, nodding his head vigorously. He attempts to speak. His voice cracking. He pauses. And tries again. “Yes. Yeah. Um… okay.” He speaks quietly. 

Janus unlocks his phone. Handing it over, he leans in to watch as the student types in his number, trying his best not to smile from ear to ear. “Thank you for letting me help you, Virgil.” He whispers as his phone is returned to him. Taking it back, he lightly lifts Virgil’s hand to his lips. Kissing the back of his fingers. “I think you’ve just helped me write my paper.”

awesome people to tag: @stop-it-anxiety @rainboots-are-for-snobs @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @leiasolo77

[thingsdoingstuff]

Justice is Overrated

     So, after taking a good look at the world and thinking that I somehow have everything solved as every other entitled millennial my age has, I have decided to start a blog. Though I am quite obviously the first and only person to do this to date, it’s probably worth mentioning that I’m not coming onto this website (universally known as the wine stain of pretentious liberal soy-boys that miraculously share the exact same opinion on everything even remotely political whining about how hard it it is to be privileged or not privileged) to be yet another preachy loyalist trying to convert people to my new branch of self-actualization.

     So, please allow me to extend an olive branch in the form of my most flattering of disclaimers:

     This is for me to share my opinions and start a gentlemen’s discussion. Whether you happen to be a gentleman, a lady, transgender, gay, bisexual, lesbian, African America, Native American, Asian, African, Persian, “The One Percent,” a cop, identify as a dog, named “Gordon,” or have sixteen toes makes no lick of difference to me unless it is valid to the conversation at hand (so do feel free to pitch in so long as it doesn’t get personal ‘lest I shall ignore thee). Your opinion is still valid and should always be valid in just about any community as most of the things we do as humans create a little discrepancy called “morality” in which we are entitled to believe anything is wrong so long as we can agree to disagree and by the end of the day we haven’t wrung each other’s necks. All that having been said barring mentioning the fact that I respected your opinion until you wrote it using the stiff end of your raging hate boner and still will so long as you put it back in your pants.      Furthermore, as these are my opinions, I am automatically wrong and will be regarded as such by about three thousand people by the time I have finished typing any given sentence. Feel free to gloat as much as you like so long as you don’t step on anyone’s toes and that includes the white ones, since last I checked all races and creeds were granted immunity and there wasn’t an asterisk at the end.

     All good and caught up? Excellent! So what’s getting people pissed off recently... Well, everything really, so the proverbial “Shit that hits the fan” most recently would be the people making posts about the five-year-old child that got murdered on his front lawn and using that as a political tool to tell everyone that Black Lives Matter is a false organization and that there are unjustified murders in every untidy hole of civilization. I’m not sure what’s scummier, implying that African Americans have no right to complain about being unjustly killed by a group of people with near immunity to any form of punishment or just posthumously dragging a five-year-old into a political issue of which he never wished to be a part, because he’s five.

     If I were to take a truly neutral stance and see things from the perspective of both political parties (of which I am a fan of neither) I would also point out that the left responded by slamming the “Five-Year-Old” bandwagon by saying that the cops can get away with their murders, leaving a trail of weeping families in their wreckage to mourn without closure. Having seen both sides seemingly standing on either side of a pond with mouths wide open angrily snarling at each other like two sparring hippos, I am compelled to ask the most “Jesus-y” question: 

     “Why must there be justice?” 

     Don’t get me wrong, if somebody sneaks up behind me and tries to slit my throat, I’ll happily unhinge his or her (I’m not biased, any gender can be a serial killer these days) skull and remove whatever tendons are keeping that blade in check, but what if the little monster actually succeeds? Do I now have some obligation to their life and how it’s spent?

     If true justice is to be preformed, that sucker gets put away for many years and my family just gets to say, “Oh, great, now that they’re behind bars, it’s as if we have our daughter/son/brother/sister back.” But is anybody truly happy after they’ve lost something close to them and the only recompense is that “Justice happened”? So if I’m ever murdered, I want just one damn thing. I want it to have done SOMETHING!

     My High school math teacher who for the sake of hiding his identity, we’ll call: Mister Dank Engine (If you knew him, you’d think that’s hilarious) once told us a story.

     “I once knew a guy that had killed somebody. Every time he heard sirens coming, he’d hide under his desk and he was always on his best behavior because he was always afraid the police would find out it was him.”

     So, aside from the fact that “killed somebody” leaves ambiguity as to whether the guy meant to do so, can’t we assume that any other living killer is paying it off in their lifetime without violence? Not to say that they get way, but that they continued contributing to society instead of blowing my hard-earned tax dollars rotting in a cell. I’d prefer to believe that anybody can get a second chance at life and use it to do good by me like “Boo Radley” from To Kill a Mockingbird. I’d much rather know that any asshole with half the grit to saw my head off sorrowfully moved on and somehow turned my memory into an empire of free cookie baskets than that he or she got the lethal injection. How does killing someone else put the good they took out of the world back into it?

     Now, that’s not to say that any firm shit with half a mind to do terrible things like killing children and innocent, unarmed black women will go on to do anything great with their lives besides witnessing their own demise, but with that in mind, does it truly matter who gets justice if the family gets nothing? If so, where has all the good in world gone once we’ve locked everyone else up and how do we get it back?

     My general opinion on all political matters is that both the left and the right will not do jack about shit, because they’re truly way too busy thrashing each others ears to get any work done, meaning every debate is just two sides of the same penny, both have beauty and are delicately crafted, but at the end of the day, it’s a worthless corrosive penny with years of stains that have most certainly been in some filthy places and have outworn their usefulness years ago. So, in the very least, a legitimate debate can’t possibly do any harm to our society, because our beloved politicians aren’t changing anything no matter what we decide, so good for us. At the very worst though, we can cram our opinions down each others throats as if to face-fuck each other into joining our little cults until years later, we realize no one’s mind was ever changed because you hated them so much that they respected your outlook.

     As a side-note, if I’m ever murdered by a cop, please don’t shut down an entire occupation. The last thing I want to be associated with is: “That one time, we stopped generalizing a race and started generalizing a practice.”

     Yours truly, Jesus Fucking Christ.

PS. I sure hope you liked the disclaimer, because It’ll be in every blog post, because I don’t want any newbies not understanding or anyone reading right now to forget.

[profanityfairchapbookunb]

A Dyke Named Lilith & Some Actual Blasphemy

And God created man in His image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them. – King James Bible Genesis 1:27, 1611 Adam said: “You lie beneath me.” And Lilith said: “You lie beneath me. We are both equal, for both of us are from the Earth.” – Alphabet of Ben Sira 23a-b, circa 1000 [Corrective rape] is now used more broadly to refer to the rape of any member of a group that does not conform to gender norms or heterosexuality when the motive of the perpetrator is to “correct” the individual. – Sarah Doan-Minh, Hastings Women’s Law Journal 2019 *** The original sin had very little to do with apples. And I don’t mean that it was a pomegranate, like history nerds on the Internet will say to prove God isn’t real or whatever. God is real. And on the day that #MeToo was trending across Eden, He said, “But Adam has so much potential,” and cleared him of all charges. I lost the title of “original woman” to some doe eyed, goody two shoes named Eve. She was made from Adam’s rib, so she owed him her life. That’s why she was supposed to be better at obeying him. Better than me, specifically. But that’s just what happens when you’re made from the same dirt as the first man, I guess. Equality meant nothing to Adam. Patriarchy starts early in this story, and we all know what men high on patriarchy think sex should be like. I left Adam as soon I realized that God didn’t put the word, “No,” in his vocabulary. The Angels tried to bring me back and brought back a rumour that I ate babies instead. Angels are gossipy bitches. When Eve first arrived on the scene, I probably should have felt sorry for her. Making her out of Adam’s rib was a filthy trick. But, even though I watched her, over and over, trying to get his hands off her hips, I told myself she could do better. I heard her squealing “No!” in that vaguely polite voice men use to justify their lies, “I thought you meant, ‘Yes!’” so many times and still told myself she was an idiot. That if she really felt scared, she could just leave him, like I did. It was her own fault for staying, I told myself. See, I wasn’t really hip on the feminist theory until the feminists started calling me an icon. No, I used to hate on Eve. A lot. Lucifer and I would creep on her and Adam some nights. We’d lounge in the Tree of Knowledge, passing a joint, talking about how overrated they were between blowing smoke and blowing each other. I was always complaining about Eve. Her ass was too round, her tits were too perky, her skin was too smooth, her build was too tiny. Usually, Lucifer would just smile and nod. But there was one evening that was different. “Y’know, Lily,” Lucifer said. There was slowness in his voice like his words were swimming through the smoke to get out of his mouth. Really, his words were swimming through his hair. The man had a lot of coarse blond hair, and never seemed to care if it fell in his face. “What, Lucy?” I growled. Lucifer glared at me out of the corner of his eye as he passed me the joint. I raised an accusing eyebrow at him from behind my wavy brunette bangs. He sighed. He looked back to the gap in the branches we were peering down through. “You got the hots for Eve or what, Lilith?” I coughed on the smoke that was tickling the back of my throat. “Little Miss Perfect? You’re out of your mind.” I practically threw the joint back at him. The fallen angel chuckled and took a deep drag. I squirmed on the hefty branch I was perched on. I kept my glare as steady as I could. When your best friend is a sass master and King of Hell, you don’t give him any clues he might be right about anything, ever. Especially not this. “Who the fuck do you think you are, saying some shit like that?” I said, overcompensating. He grinned. The sharp corners of his mouth nearly pierced his ears. “I’m the asshole who scares The Big Man upstairs. I say what I want.” He dramatically brought the joint towards his lips like he was in one of those French movies. There it was; the sass. I snatched the joint from him before he could breathe in. “Hey!” he whined. “You know what I mean,” I said. “Okay, Lilith, come on,” Lucifer said, holding out an open hand. I sneered and slapped the joint back into his palm. He looked me right in the eyes as he blew the smoke into my face. My sneer became a grimace. He laughed. “You’re obviously obsessed with Eve, Lilith. You never stop staring at her, you never shut up about her…” “Which means I’m in love with her? Get over yourself.” I reached for the joint, but Lucifer’s hand dodged mine. He held it above his lazy body with a delicately bent wrist. “I’m not talking love. I’m talking obsession. More to do with Asmodeus than The G Man.” “You think I want to fuck Eve?” Lucifer gave a toothy grin, licking his lips in a pure mockery of seduction. “Don’t you? Don’t you just wanna have her all to yourself for a night? It could be fun, like that orgy you have with the Gorgon sisters and Perseus in Greece. Or maybe something more sensual, like what you have with Donatello in the Renaissance. Something kinky, maybe, like the fling with Mary Shelley from the 1800s. Or maybe…” He brings a thin finger to his cheek and gazes at me with a doe eyed expression that looks as disturbing on a demon as you probably think it would. “Maybe there’s a reason you used the L word. Maybe you want something more special with Eve? Something long term? Maybe… a commitment?” “Shut up!” The shout barely made it out before Lucifer pressed a hand to my mouth. He glanced cautiously to the space between the leaves. I shook my face free from his grasp and, scowling, looked as well. I realized my mistake. I caught a glimpse of Eve glancing with innocent intrigue towards the Tree, just before Adam demanded her attention again with a firm grip on her shoulder. His face was more suspicious as he looked back in our direction before walking away with Eve in tow. I looked at Lucifer who was, to my surprise, laughing silently. I raised an eyebrow. He leaned in to whisper, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t Shakespeare me before he’s even been born yet.” “But am I wrong? Why would you care so much if there wasn’t something you wanted? Don’t you want her? All to yourself, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?” He motioned a hand to his heart as he recounted his irritably dramatic parody. I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips as I looked back towards the naked figures below in the Garden. The evening light was dim, but Eve’s skin glowed with a disturbing perfection. I told myself it was disturbing, and, yet, there was something about that kind of visual softness that made me wonder about her physical softness that made me wonder about— Lucifer stumbled slowly to his feet, balancing on a branch as lanky as himself, and motioned for me to follow. “Tell you what,” he said. His voice seemed more sincere than before. We slithered between the branches and made our way down the trunk and out of the Garden for the night. As we did, he made his suggestion. “Why don’t you talk to her? See if she ‘sparks joy’. And if she doesn’t, well, that’s that.” “You want me to talk to her?” I scoffed. But then, after a moment, as we returned to the Gates of Hell, I thought about what he’d said. Pausing to give Cerberus a scratch behind the ear just inside the Gate, I asked, “How?” Lucifer’s eyes glimmered with Hellfire and mischief. He curled a finger towards me, urging me to hurry up, as we made our way to the white picketed lawn and up the driveway to the quaint little house. Lucifer loved making Hell look like a nuclear family lived there. It made the real nuclear families that lived there, in the River of Fire, feel uncomfortable. That was the point. That day our home had a charred wooden “Welcome” sign on the door, and a picture window that overlooked the riverbank brimming and bubbling with damned souls. Lucifer hung his keys on the hook by the door and sashayed from the entryway into the open concept kitchen. Swinging the fridge open, gesturing towards the crisper drawer near the bottom, he said, “Pick your poison.” Lucifer had this theory that fruit could do anything. He won’t admit it to me, but he’s probably responsible for vegans. Anyway, I snorted condescendingly at first. But the more I looked at the bright, fresh produce, the more I wondered if it was worth a shot. Lucifer must have seen the shift in my expression. He walked away, leaving the fridge open. “That’s my Lily!” he called over his shoulder. “Lilith.” I retorted. Then I bent down to see what we had. It had to be a peach. Eve wouldn’t get it, obviously, there was no cell service in Eden. But there was in Hell, and in Hell we sexted with enough desperate and horny 21st century college seniors to know that this would be hilarious in 6000 years. I smirked, thinking about how fun it was going to be to tell Lucifer I gave Eve the butt emoji. But picking a fruit to seduce her with was the easy part. Getting to talk to Eve, that would be harder. Eve was sometimes near the Tree of Knowledge, but rarely alone. Adam would sometimes be with her, but she was more often accompanied by a swan or wolf or some other creature. The animals of Eden were dangerous. In the age of Genesis, they were God’s most loyal disciples. An outsider might see them as harmless and innocent but, let me tell you, every bug in that Garden was up to something. And that something was usually to keep Eve from poking her nose around the Tree. Left to her own devices, Eve might explore every inch of Eden, a sense of curiosity that she probably passed down to women like Alice and Dorothy. That’s what the animals were for. Eve would follow them away from trouble, skipping light on her nimble feet, to safety and obliviousness. Eve trusted the animals. It was late afternoon one day when I saw Adam and Eve dozing off in the pale light a few trees down, heads resting on the laps of lions. The lions appeared to be falling asleep, but their ears were still perked up. I waited. And as I waited, unmoving, I watched the sun begin to set and the muscles in the lions’ ears relaxed. This was my chance. I ascended the Tree of Knowledge, curving my long spine side to side. I folded my limbs into myself and grew soft scales that wrapped around the peach in what was once my hand. I extended the fruit towards the Earth as I dangled from the lowest branch. I flicked Eve’s name off the tip of my tongue. “Eeeeeeeve,” I hissed softly. “Eeeeeeeve.” The woman stirred. Her eyelids fluttered. At first, she seemed to be going back to sleep. Then she shook herself awake, eyes widening as she saw me. She gasped and I said, “Sssssshhh.” She looked reluctant and moved as though she was going to wake Adam. “Don’t!” I said. I let my true voice slip out for only a moment but assured myself she was too dull to notice. “Snake?” she said softly. She pushed herself to her feet and began tiptoeing through lions’ paws towards me. “Yesssss?” I said, drawing out the S for as long as I could. “Snake, I haven’t seen you in a while, I thought you left with Lu—” Eve raised an eyebrow. There was an expression in her that I hadn’t seen before at the distances I’ve watched her. This wasn’t an expression of curiosity. It was one of intelligence. “You aren’t Snake, are you?” she said. “Of coursssssse IIIII—” That look. That suspicion I didn’t know she was capable of. I was caught. I released the grasp my tail had wrapped around the branch and leapt to the ground, feet first, flesh taking the place of scales. My thick curls fell around my face as I landed, fist clenched around the fruit in my hand. The juice dripped from my fingers. Eve tilted her head. The suspicion in her eyes softened and she reached her hand towards me, slow and steady. “Who are you?” she whispered. I stepped back quickly. My heel hit a root, but I kept my pain to myself. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed. I hadn’t completely shaken the snake voice yet. Eve lowered her hand and nodded. “Okay. I won’t,” she said. Her compliance made me angry. “You think you’re perfect, don’t you?” I growled. Eve’s eyes widened, but she didn’t look offended. Only confused. This made me angry, too. “You think that because you’re so gentle and agreeable and you’ll do anything anyone says that you’re perfect. You think that you deserve this, don’t you? You deserve to be the ‘original woman’ more than me. Well that’s just fine. You can have Adam, you can have God, you can have the perfect life with the perfect family in the perfect Garden. But not all of us want that, okay? Not all of us want what you have. Not all of us are jea—why are you just staring at me?!” I could feel myself heaving for each furious breath. Eve stood facing me, breathing more calmly, but her chest still rose and fell in synch with mine. The silence was unbearable, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. At last, she did. “Lilith,” she said. “Are you…? You’re Lilith.” I scoffed. “So, he mentioned me, huh?” Eve’s eyes seemed locked on mine, no matter how hard I tried to shake her gaze. Looking up, down, around, every time I glanced back, she was still there staring. “Not that you were beautiful,” she said. I glared at her. “Don’t make fun of me.” “I’m not,” she said. She didn’t insist, as though she knew she didn’t need to. “They said you were a demon, but your hair, your skin, your breast… They’re so much like mine, yet somehow more stunning.” She broke eye contact with me to look me up and down. “What’s that?” She pointed at the remnants of the peach. I looked down at the crushed fruit. I frowned at the exposed pit in my fingers. “It’s a peach, duh,” I said. “I see,” said Eve. “Is that what grows on this tree?” She glanced at the Tree of Knowledge behind me. I let my head fall back to look up at the leaves. The branches were bare of fruit. “Nothing grows on this tree,” I said. “Just leaves and bark.” When I looked back at Eve she seemed confused. “But the Lord said not to eat the fruit—” I laughed. “Your ‘Lord’ lies to you all the time,” I said. “‘Thou shalt not eat the fruit of this tree’ really means ‘Thou shalt not associate with the whore and devil who hang out there’.” Eve blinked. “You? But why? Why would He say that about you? Why would He call you such things?” “Why do you think?” “Why are you here?” Eve asked abruptly. “I thought that you had left the Garden.” She took a small step towards me. “I thought that you and Adam didn’t get along, so you decided to walk your own path.” I stepped backwards again, closer to the Tree, my spine leaning against the trunk. “Is that what they told you?” I caught myself looking past Eve to Adam’s sleeping body in the distance. I hadn’t been this close to him in a long time. I pushed the feelings of terror and regret and rage deep down into the pit of my stomach where they could storm without me. My attention was drawn out of my own thoughts when Eve whispered, “I’m sorry.” “What?” I said. There was a solemn, knowing look on her face. “He hurt you, didn’t he?” My mouth fell open and I stuttered. “What makes you think…?” “The way you look at him,” She took another half step towards me. She lifted her arms and asked with her eyes. “It’s how I wish I could look at him, if no one was watching.” After a moment, in some spur of poor or good or some kind of judgement, I nodded. She leaned in and hugged me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, into the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry that he did it.” My body shook. The feelings in my stomach had spread to my heart and were coursing through my veins. Terror, regret, rage… and sadness. My body shook as it tried to understand what it was feeling. I felt Eve gripping me tighter, as though to keep me from shaking myself into pieces. I felt her chest move as she breathed. I let myself sink into Eve’s arms, feeling us breath together, and I cried. Eve pulled away. I felt myself leaning towards her body to try and keep the feeling of us breathing together on my skin. But she kept her hands on my shoulders, and, for now, that felt like enough. We stared at each other for a moment. Eve smiled gently. I let the last of my tears fall silently down my still face. “I’m glad you came to me, Lilith,” she said. “I understand that kind of pain can be hard to carry alone. I’m glad you confided in me.” I looked at her sincere expression and I felt comfort. But it wasn’t alone. There was another feeling. Guilt. I didn’t come here to confide in her. I didn’t come here with pure intentions at all. Eve interrupted my thoughts, chuckling. “The truth is, I thought you were here to tempt me,” she said. “Tempt you?” I laughed. “Why would you think I was here to tempt you?” Eve smiled. “Well,” she said, “there is the fruit, and the Tree, and—” “Well,” I said, “if I was here to tempt you—hypothetically—what would you say to me?” My eyes darted away from her. I tried to hide my shame. “Would you get pissed and tell your God to smite me or whatever?” I joked. “No,” Eve said sternly. I looked back at her and saw that her expression was just as serious. I realized I had seen her face go through more emotions in this moment than in an eternity watching her in the Garden. “No, I wouldn’t. You know why?” She took my hand, pit, and all, and lifted it to her face. She leaned her lips toward my index finger and whispered, “May I?” I nodded, and she kissed the juices on my flesh. “Because I trust you, Lilith.” “You shouldn’t,” I replied automatically. “Why not?” Eve asked. “You are the first in the Garden to show me fear. That kind of vulnerability is courageous, and genuine, and unusual, in a place like this. You are the first in the Garden to show me that you don’t believe in Adam’s perfection. I thought I was the only one. I thought I was crazy. But, Lilith, if he did to you anything like what he’s done to me…” She averted her eyes. Another emotion I hadn’t seen in her before. Sadness. A sadness I knew myself. “Run away with me,” I blurted out. I don’t know what came over me. I felt as shocked as she looked at my words. But I couldn’t stop. “Run away with me, Eve. We can get away from all this. Together. No Adam, or God, or even Lucifer—that annoying bastard is my best friend, but I’d leave him in a heartbeat just to get away from… everything… with you.” She stared blankly at me, and, for once, I couldn’t read her. I felt the tears coming back. “You understand me, Eve. You understand me like no one has, like no one will. I live my whole life at the same time, Eve, I can see it all. Every person ever born, from the Creation to the Rapture and I just know… you’re the only one who will ever understand me.” Still, she was silent. I saw her eyes glisten with tears for just a second before she leaned in and hugged me again. “I’m sorry, Lilith,” she said. “You are so much more than I could have imagined.” The breath of her words felt like daggers on my neck that stabbed through to my heart. I knew what was coming was bad. I knew I wouldn’t want to hear it. “Lilith, you’re—” “Just say it already,” I sobbed. I tried to force a voice of anger, but it came out sounding pathetic. But Eve didn’t laugh or make fun of me. She simply said, “I love Adam, Lilith.” She nuzzled her face deeper into my neck. For a moment I hoped I misheard, that she would stay there forever, but then, “I can’t leave him,” she said. “I won’t tell him you were here. I’ll—” I placed my hands on her chest and pushed her away. “I don’t care what you tell him,” I said. I refused to look at her face. I couldn’t predict what I’d do if I looked at her face. “Just go.” “Okay,” said Eve, still standing there. “I will, but will you be alright—?” “Go!” I shouted. I didn’t wait for the sound of the lions’ roars as they awoke, or Adam’s shouting as he ran towards the Tree. I swung around the trunk and folded in on myself, hoping that I could fold in far enough to disappear. But I didn’t. I just turned into a snake again. So, with disappearing off the table, I slithered up the Tree and across the branches. I left the Garden and through the Gates of Hell, leaving Cerberus to whimper for pets as I passed. I ignored the screams from the River and burst through the door of the house with the white picket fence, my emerging legs still partially covered in scales. Lucifer was laying on the ugliest couch, in a black satin robe, reading a 1960s edition of Playboy, circling the names of article writers whose souls he would collect. He glanced up at me, twirling his ballpoint pen between his fingers. “How’d it go?” he asked in a sing song voice. I stormed past him to the stairs, still shedding scales as I marched up to my room. “Fuck off,” I said. “Okay,” he said nonchalantly, looking back at his magazine. I heard him shuffle to his feet shortly after I reached the second floor. Before I could slam my bedroom door, he called up to me, “Lily! Lily, I know you’re moping, but do you know if we have any apples?”

Alistair J. Cusak

[best-reviews]

Try These Tips to Keep Your Christmas Tree Fresh and Greener

Winter holidays

Don’t we all love the holidays, the cinnamon smell, the excitement of buying and getting the perfect gift, the general vibe that seems to make you forget about stress and life’s low moments. However, we believe that the Christmas tree is the star of the holidays. If you’re not making it to get to Santa Claus’ heart, then you’re definitely doing it for your little ones. Some of us, like those who are huge fans of the winter holidays, would start decorating sooner than anyone would even think. You can’t blame them, though. It’s really soul nurturing to see those colorful lights going on and off. It makes you feel like a kid again, doesn’t it? But how could you keep the Christmas tree fresh and green through the holidays? It’s kind of tricky if you’re one of those who love the smell of an all-natural tree. However, as always, we have your back on this. We’ve gathered some really useful tips. These will help you keep that Christmas tree alive and kicking! A little history on the Christmas tree For starters, there’s no actual exact information to let us know where Christmas trees were first used. It’s assumed that about 1,000 years ago, in some Northern European countries, people started this tradition. While nowadays, we’re proudly placing our holiday decorated trees in a special place of the house, where everybody can notice them, back in the old days things were quite different. It seems that people used to hang their Christmas trees upside down from the ceiling. Chains were used to keep them in place and attached to either the chandeliers or lighting hooks. Across Europe, especially the Northern parts, people didn’t use the whole tree, but rather just a branch or a smaller plant. So if you were to have a time machine and you’d go back in the early days of this tradition being started, you’d see cherry or hawthorn plants. Sounds pretty strange, doesn’t it? Well, this wasn’t all! Those who couldn’t afford a real plant, were turning to wood pieces that they’d put in a pyramid. It really looked like a real tree, which they’d decorate with paper, apples, and candles. First Christmas tree Going back to when this tradition started, it seems that Germany is the place where a home was first decorated with such a tree. Preacher Martin Luther is known as the first person to have brought a Christmas tree in his home, in the 16th century. The story of this event talks about the man walking one night before Christmas into the woods. The image that he saw, with the starts shinning through the tree’s branches, was the trigger. He was so impressed with the scene he saw that, as he got home, he told his kids that it made him think of Jesus. He imagined that he went down from the stars to have an earthly experience on Christmas time. Christmas trees around the world There are many parts in the world, where Christmas trees are decorated each year in public spaces, just to please people’s eyes. As you may already now, the tree in Trafalgar Square, London, England, represents one of the most famous ones. In fact, the tree represents a gift that Norway offers the UK each year, as a thank you for all the help they got during the World War II. Also the United States of America have their own tradition of decorating huge Christmas trees during the holidays. The White House has this tradition since the 1920s, where they place a beautifully decorated tree on their front lawn. There are many other parts in the world, where people have different views on what Christmas trees are all about. For instance, New Zealand uses as a holiday tree one that’s called ‘Pohutakawa’ that has red flowers. In other parts of the world, like India, Christmas trees are the Banana or Mango trees, which people sometimes decorate. No matter what one might say, a natural Christmas tree represents a really fun to do and beautiful holiday decoration. And many people agree on this, if we were to judge by the surveys. It seems that in 2015, 25.9 million real trees were purchased, summing up a total of $1.32 billion, according to the National Christmas Tree Association. However, as beautiful as a natural tree may sound, there are some issues you might bump into. So how do you keep it fresh and green during the whole holiday season? Keep on reading to find out our useful tips! Give it water as soon as possible! What you’re bringing home is a real and alive plant. Therefore, if you want to provide its freshness on a long run, then you’ll have to give it enough water. Like with any other living plants, water is the number one key-ingredient for a successful recipe. Experts suggest that appropriately hydrating your Christmas tree should do a very good job in keeping it fresh and green. According to co-owner of the Sugar Pines Farm in Chesterland, OH, Jane Neubauer, you can easily do this. You just have to buy a tree stand that comes with a built-in reservoir. If you check it regularly, there’s no way that you’ll not built a healthy relationship with your Christmas tree. You’ll get to understand how much water your holiday tree really needs. This built-n reservoir is magic because you can re-fill it regularly so that your plant doesn’t have to suffer not even for a bit. Also, nowadays you can buy all sorts of additives that are meant to maintain a certain water absorption and to keep away any possible bacteria. However, these are not as important as keeping your Christmas tree well-watered. Keep its trunk trimmed It’s quite an interesting process that takes place each time a tree is first cut. In order to close the wound, sap comes into the scene to seal the bottom. This is what makes it quite difficult for the tree to absorb enough water. Experts recommend to place a fresh cut at the bottom of your Christmas tree right before you put it in water. Another very important tip to keep in mind is that you should always put up the tree as soon as possible. Try to doing this the same day you bring it home. So how do you do this trick? Just take a saw and trim half an inch off the trunk. Do this before you place in water in a reservoir stand. Specialists advise that you should go for a perpendicular cut to the axis of the stem. Avoid as much as possible to make the cut on the trunk at an angle or in a V-shape. Otherwise, keeping your tree in an upright position in the stand can be difficult. However, if you cannot put up the tree right in the same day you bought it, we have a short-term solution for you. Experts say that keeping it in a cool place with plenty of water should do the job. But, as you might have figured out already, it is best to set your Christmas tree as soon as possible. Water it Did we already mention this? Well, yes, but in this part of the article, we’re trying to make you fully understand this tree’s need. As you followed our first tip, you should already have a water stand for your Christmas tree. Check it daily for water levels and keep in mind this general rule: one quart of water goes for each inch of your tree’s stem diameter. You should let go of those popular beliefs that if you drill a hole in the bottom of the trunk you’ll have your tree for a longer time. Also, that tip with using a certain temperature to water it is quite overrated. However, according to some debates, it seems that your tree’s longevity might depend on certain substances. Some people believe that using corn syrup, aspirin, or sugar can keep your tree healthy for a longer period of time. Well, we read through several sources and we found out that a recent study concluded that none of these substances could do better than clean water. It’s not to say that these do any harm, but rather that they are not too effective, either. However, nothing should keep you from experimenting! It’s your Christmas tree, in the end, right? Keep your tree out of any heat sources or lights Heat or direct exposure to sunlight won’t do your Christmas tree any good! Also, placing it too near the furnace can easily make it dry faster. It can become dry and brittle if it has too much heat coming its way, as experts say. As the decorating lights are concerned, those small lights are not to be avoided. Also, you can still go for the big ones if you keep on appropriately watering your tree the right way. Another useful trick is to lower the temperature in the room where you place it. This will slow down the drying process. However, if your tree does dry out, then you should seriously think of recycling it. Just take it out of your house and don’t burn it in the fireplace or wood stove. Turn off the lights This one tip is not only good for your tree’s longevity, but also for your well-being, as well. The idea is that lights, kept on for too long, can become very hot. This can lead to your tree drying faster and even, unfortunately, cause a fire chaos. Do things the right way and play it safe! If you’re not around for more hours in a row, just turn the lights off. You can’t monitor your tree so be smart about this! Also, it’s extremely important to always do a check up on your light installation. Make sure that all your bulbs function normally and that none of their cords for the lights are worn or frayed. It is what it is: real tress can catch fire. Just follow the general safety rules and your holidays will be another beautiful memory to add in your life’s repertoire! Conclusions Hopefully, you found good and useful content in this article. It’s no rocket science to keep your Christmas tree fresh and green for a longer period of time. Just make sure you completely understand what keeping a real tree indoor is all about and you should be just fine! It’s worth all the effort, we think, to keep that Christmas vibe going on, with a beautiful, taken care of tree. Give out tips a try and see for yourself! Read the full article

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

My aunt's dog, Rocky has an interesting life story. First of all, he's a rescue. Well, when he was younger but old enough to no longer be a puppy, his own decided his tail was overrated. The owner brought Rocky outside where he took an axe to his little tail. It was gone. Then the bastard left the little guy to bleed out. Thankfully, Rocky was found, taken care of, and eventually found his forever home with my aunt. Sadly, he does get phantom pain and has to be on medication for the rest of his life.

Now here is why I'm posting this.

Last night, my aunt was taking Rocky out in her yard - part of the yard not fenced in, which shouldn't be an issue at all. For the pitty next door? It was a problem.

It jumped over the fence and made a beeline for little Rocky. My aunt went after the dog as it took a bite out of Rocky. She got bit a few times and shouted so loud that the neighbor mowing his lawn heard. Thankfully, she got Rocky away from the pit and got Rocky to the vet.

He has three puncture wounds, two of which have to be drained. He went into surgery last I heard. My aunt got a tetanus shot and antibiotics. There's no word on the neighbor or the pit.

Now I have nothing against pitbulls. Ever pit I worked with at the animal hospital was as sweet as can be (except for one my boss wouldn't let me touch). Mean dogs come from mean owners. I don't know this pit's story, but I can sadly assume how it's gonna end.

This is why at a young age, owners have to work to keep their puppy from biting people or other dogs. They have to treat their pups well to have a nice adult pup. This is why my husband and I are doing our best to teach our German Shepherd puppy not to put his teeth out in play because we don't want there to ever be a chance animal control will come to the door and make us pit him down for hurting someone and/or their dog.

Pitty pups have a lot of energy and do like to nip. But owners have to be kind to teach their dogs to be kind to others. And when picking a puppy from a shelter? It's hard to know if the dog will be kind if its past life is unknown. You just have to be aware of your dog at all times and get into training it to listen even when its distracted.

I don't know if anything will happen to the pit. I don't know if my aunt has any word on how Rocky is doing. I don't know when she'll tell us more on FB. All I know is that dogs are mean if their owner is mean, so treat your dogs well.

[samsevenwrites]

“So?”

Rachel had waited a few minutes, just enough time for Peter to pack his things. Now, she wanted an answer.

Earlier in the week, as a new student at Blackwell Academy, Peter had asked for her help to catch up September classes he had missed, and Rachel gladly accepted before realizing that the new one was smarter than most of the students. No, in fact, he was smarter than any other student.

Peter Parker was good at photography, was an accomplished scientist, and when he did not excel in a subject, he was good anyway. Everyone expected him to fail at least on the basketball court, but he had surprised the whole class, including the teacher, by scoring several baskets effortlessly.

In fact, it would not take much for Peter to help his classmates himself.

Rachel had finally concluded that his request maybe disguised a classic, but sometimes effective, attempt at flirtation: after all, it was an approach like any other. Yet, instead of being the teacher or the courting girl, Rachel just had the role of the observer, watching Peter while he was completing the exercises, without hearing any questions.

What was the point of learning in silence what was already known? Why lock yourself in an empty classroom instead of enjoying the end of the day?

So Rachel had the idea to play.

After he had stuck his notepad between two textbooks in his bag, Peter lifted his face to his classmate, noting how the tired sun’s rays were sketching her silhouette.

The golden hour had the power to make the shadows immense without becoming terrifying, to transform the colors of fire into peaceful shades, to accentuate the mystery that enveloped Rachel, this girl full of life.

Peter quickly dismissed this painful thought.

His approach did disguised an intention, and unfortunately, it was not romantic: Peter was interested in Rachel not as Peter Parker, but as Spider-man.

“OK, explain your game.”

Despite Peter’s hardly convincing sigh, Rachel smiled radiantly.

When neither of them spoke, they could hear the students’ discussions outside, and under the screams and laughter, if they gave enough attention, they could even hear the murmur of wind and water from the fountain where was perched Jeremiah Blackwell.

Behind her back, Rachel felt the melancholy heat of the end of the day. She did not notice the soft blaze colors that were unfolding on the horizon, yet she guessed them in the eyes of her classmate, in the hazel pupils that were at that moment as the same hue as honey.

“This is a game I learned in theater class. It's all about improvisation,” she got up and went off to sit on the edge of one of the windows, “we’ve to spy on people from far away and imagine stories from what we see. The best would be to choose two people to engage in a dialogue.”

“So we observe other students and we make them talk, huh? A preference for the register?”

“Comic or dramatic, I let you choose.”

She suspected that he would understand the rules quickly, but it was about interpretation through an imagination influenced by feelings: it was a game that could say a lot about the player, even a smart one.

“I’m curious to see what you think, Peter. What a New Yorker can say about high school students in Arcadia Bay?”

A brief, guilty grin showed that the new student was sorry to be so distant. It had been three weeks since Peter Parker joined Blackwell and he stubbornly remained at the back of the stage even though he had attracted attention: his New York accent had invoked dreams of the great a city for those who had never walked down the Broadway’s sidewalks, and for Rachel, this city dweller was an enigma. Why did this boy leave the big city to get lost on this little coast? Worse, for the Californian, this exile was as serious as crime.

“Then my participation is an honor?”

“May you satisfy my curiosity,” joked Rachel, bowing.

As he laughed, Peter leaned on the edge too and watched the grassy ground where everything was so calm, so easy. Different groups of teenagers illustrated the many facets of youth: geeks who played a board game to escape the real world, footballers who drew in infinite energy, popular girls who composed their brilliant image, rebels who did not even hide to smoke, defying the simplest authority—

Peter Parker almost envied them for their common worries.

With a reflex, he rubbed his wrists that were too often clasped by his web-shooters.

The teenager would have liked time to be suspended, then the sun would never cross the horizon and that the problems of this school would resume to weed and unprotected sex.

With a heavy heart, Peter tried not to look at Rachel: although he was seeing her for real with her colorful face, he was haunted by the black and white portrait he had seen.

“You can choose anyone,” said Rachel with a wave of her hand. “You won’t hurt anyone, this game will stay between us, promised.”

Concentrate on this game, Peter. Enjoy this quiet moment, they’re so rare—

He studied several samples, moving from one individual to another, to finally stop on this girl with blond short hair, both elegant and cold. He did not know what her name was, and he was certain that this oversight would have been an affront to this diva.

With his finger, he pointed to the schoolgirl who, chin pretentiously erect, was chatting with a friend. After clearing his throat, Peter started:

“What will I do after high school? Invent sunproof makeup, I can’t stand this sun anymore!”

“Oh my god, Victoria,” Rachel exclaimed, agreeing with Taylor's surprised expression in the distance, “you’re so smart! Waterproof is so overrated nowadays! I’ll be your first client.”

They tried to compose the continuation of the dialogue, watching the faces, the gestures, the movements. Their comedy sounded so good that it was hardly spoiled by some contradictions.

Suddenly Rachel laughed, pulling herself out of Taylor's role:

“I didn’t know you had so much humor!”

“Because I didn’t have a public worthy yet.”

“Oh, my humble person is enough for your one-man show?”

“Absolutely. I’ve always loved mischievous audiences.”

“Seduction by words is the only weapon that matters.”

Haloed by the sunset that served as a projector, the two teenagers gave themselves great airs from their perch that became a secret scene. Both actors betrayed themselves with laughter and smiles, making their game adorably bad.

Now that they were discussing, Peter understood the Rachel Amber’s popularity.

He first thought that it was her beauty that attracted people: the profile of the future model was well designed and, endowed with the calm that seemed untouchable, she had a smile that looked like the Mona Lisa’s one who challenged anyone to impress her.

Now, he knew that her success exceeded the image: Rachel knew how to direct the conversations thanks to an always witty repartee. If she respected the silences, the timid ones, however, could become talkative in her presence as she was lively and friendly.

Some might have said she had too many dreams to accomplish, but Rachel had enough energy to make them all come true.

Peter hoped for her a promising future.

Stop thinking about it. Stop looking at her this way or she’ll have doubts.

To silence his anguish, the unsuspected hero turned away to find another subject of inspiration. He then observed one of the skaters on the lawn who was tightening the screws on his board. For a moment, he wondered if he was also a student of Blackwell since he had never seen him in class.

After a few moments, Peter says:

“I wonder if there is enough room on my skateboard to engrave the full periodic table? Would people notice it?”

“The nerd who isn’t at easy, good one! It works with Justin, too.”

Rachel leaned in, visibly taken in the game.

She was really having fun with Peter and was even tempted to suggest that he join the theater class. What she had imagined to be shyness was only prudence.

Head bent to the side, Rachel looked at him with great attention.

Modest, Peter answered:

“Well, it’s pretty classic actually, but thank you.”

“That’s true, but I’ve a weakness for stories where appearances are misleading.”

A weakness for the mysteries, therefore.

In a reflex, Peter looked down, pretending to look for other topics to improvise a new dialogue. His research was interrupted by a rather surprising question:

“Peter, what would you say if you see Spider-man?”

He was so surprised he wondered if he had heard correctly.

“Spider-man?”

“Yes. Imagine: all of a sudden, Spider-man web swings to cross the campus, greeting students just below him. That would be a perfect subject, right? What would you invent?”

“Uh— Gotta go fast?”

They burst out laughing.

“But really, Rachel, I doubt that Spider-man goes through Blackwell one day. Everything’s so calm here.”

“Who knows? Even he might need rest.”

She did not imagine how hurtful it could be for the spider-man to hear this: every time someone showed compassion, Peter Parker had to pretend to be indifferent and hide an moved pride.

“Spider-man has been seen in Oregon twice since the beginning of the month, after a long absence—”

“It may be another Spider-man.”

“He had the same blue and red suit as the one from New York.”

Oops.

The conversation was beginning to make him uneasy, especially because of Rachel’s posture: her hands were on her hips and she was looking at him with her head tilted to the left, as if to watch his reactions.

She can’t know.

Peter pulled out his phone, preparing the excuse of the late hour to leave Rachel and take refuge in the dormitory.

“If Spider-man was swinging in front of us,” continued the student, “I would say he’s in a hurry to go back to his lab.”

“His laboratory? Why a laboratory?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m convinced that the one who hides under this mask is a scientist, a good scientist, and like any self-respecting good scientist, he has his own laboratory.”

Peter was unable to decipher that cat’s gaze that was scrutinizing him, that barely hemmed smile.

Would she remain so calm if he told her, right there, right now, that he was the man who hides under the costume covered with webs?

Or had she already guessed?

“It’s funny,” the plainclothes hero muttered, “you’re one of the few people to imagine that Spider-man can have a life on the ground, far from fighting.”

“There’s a difference between a superhero and an everyday hero.”

“The first one has super powers and not the other?”

“No, it’s a matter of costume. Just like Spider-man and the one wearing the suit.”

Peter nodded, looking distracted.

He could not contradict this logic when he had set himself the goal of protecting Rachel without his costume.

Peter kept his lips closed, calculating the years before that corridor would be wallpapered with “Missing Person” posters. Three years to understand what was going to happen to Rachel Amber. Three years in any universe, but not this one, he promised.

And to succeed, he should become a discreet hero, an everyday hero.