#but want to drag someone adaptable and chill along who will also not say 'that's literally insane. no' when asked

[eats-the-stars]

love the guy assigned to my case at the “help you get a job” program. i have exactly 2 modes. 1) procrastinating until the absolute last minute. And 2) guess I will complete months worth of work that is also due at the end of the year in exactly 3 days of non-stop effort. You can basically flip a coin as to which approach my brain will decide to take for any given task.

so yeah I have a job now. and my poor case manager dude is like “wait. no. that was so fast. it’s been one week. you did how many interviews? and you picked...this one. the one that is not like anything you have done before and also was not on the “jobs I think would work out for me” list that we made?”

and he was scrambling like “accommodations. training. oh god. um. do i need to talk to your employers?” and getting more anxious when I was like “no i think I have it covered.” like i am sorry bro but i know that my vibes in person are like “quiet forgetful autistic person who can pass for either a high school student or a grandma at any moment” and this does not inspire confidence, but I am actually pretty independent once someone gives me a little push to start a thing.

also...dude you have my job history. winter sports area general worker (concessions, ticket sales, renting ski/snowshoe equipment, managing cross-country trails, monitoring the tube hill, etc.). family restaurant hostess (basically every role in the place except a cook). person selling fireworks out of tent for all of July while also living in a smaller tent behind the shipping crate filled with things that go boom. call center customer service rep handling 4 different clients that range from crafts and home decor to incontinence products and super expensive furniture. freelance dog-sitting with clients ranging from “rich couple who wants me to let their elderly cockapoos out twice a day for $50 bucks a pop in a house with a basement theater” to “i’ll give you $10 a day to exercise and feed the 3 huskies in our small apartment also they can jump higher than you are tall and scream louder than you thought possible.” bro we added a whole “volunteer experience” section to my resume because I wrote grants and worked with an environmental group to restore native bluebirds to the community and volunteered at the community table and the animal shelter and the library. like i have done lots of things that are not really connected at all. someone says “hey do you think you could do this?” and I am suddenly living out of a tent for a month googling “what the fuck is a crossette?” i once ended up in Memphis for 2 months doing volunteer construction work in the aftermath of a hurricane because my cousin didn’t want to go alone and everyone was like “oh we know someone who goes with the flow so hard.”

so you better believe i told you “oh i don’t know, maybe a receptionist position would be nice” and then applied to every local job known to god and then a few extra and took the first one to say “cool can you start next week?” i know i did not give off “I will try anything at least once if you ask me fast and then go ‘great!’ before I can process what i agreed to” vibes while sitting in your office in my colorful leggings, grandma sweaters and animal hats while not making eye contact and talking about how lovely my nephew is and how much I enjoy quiet time alone and gardening and i struggle with a poor memory and navigating social interactions. but i know you proofread my resume my guy. you asked questions about all these things except the construction thing because i actually forgot to mention that actually which is good because then i might have had to mention the cult involvement that i wasn’t aware of until i was stuck on-site but it all worked out so no sweat. still, i am glad that he is concerned by my “out of the blue” spontaneity. it’s kind of his job to help people settle into jobs that they can handle, and I also know that I would realistically need more assistance from him if I wasn’t so good at adapting on the fly due to my bad habit of saying “sure, I can do that” to literally anything. also my new job is honestly pretty tame, so i am not sure what he is freaking out about. i should really not mention some of the other jobs i spontaneously applied for before accepting this one. like..my friend...i could be working in a bridal shop. i could be training to install and repair vending machines or decorating cakes or delivering medical equipment. i applied for a job that was literally “window production.” none of these are actually as wild as that time I spent 2 months with a religious cult doing manual labor and living out of an abandoned, half-destroyed school building because my cousin talked me into it. i had to watch a dramatic reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus on my very first night that brought the whole gymnasium of strangers to wild, howling tears while I was awkwardly clapping my hands as my cousin sobbed incoherently into my shoulder. i once dog-sat a bluetick coonhound for 2 weeks in the dead of winter, and the snow if his yard was so high that he was able to jump the fence and book it down the street. i had to chase him through knee-high snow for over an hour before he stopped to sniff a bemused old lady long enough for me to catch him. i once had a customer at the restaurant rail at me for a good twenty minutes because she was absolutely sure that we did serve pineapple upside down cake and i was just withholding this dessert from her, specifically. the bar for “jobs I would apply for” is so low that I actually thought “well as long as nobody spits in my face, pukes on me consistently, or shanks me in the kidney again I could probably do anything.” although to be fair to my case manager i did not mention those things to him (except the pineapple upside down cake lady because I mention her all the time, i am still pissed off about that situation). also, my sister was actually the one to have a dog wake her up in the middle of the night only to puke directly into her mouth, but I watched it go down, so the psychic trauma of witnessing that still exists.

[vermillionbones]

I'd love to hear more of your Phobditor HCs!!

ohoho thank you for enabling me anon i am going to kiss you directly on the mouth /pl

also slight warning for spoilers to the new(??) ending of project nexus!! i don't talk explicitly about what happens in general, but the stuff involving phobos is mentioned in the very first hc so for those of you who don't wanna be spoiled you can just skip that one lol. grab sum popcorn lads this one's a long one snbcnkcnvmv

Phobditor HCs!!

rbs very much appreciated 👉👈

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

so i hc that phobos didn't actually get banished at the end of MPN, but he did get his ass handed to him to the point where he was so injured and drained of energy that he couldn't use most of his abilities. he went into hiding for a while and eventually found the AAHW, which he proceeded to join since he didn't really have anywhere else to go. after he'd healed and returned to his full strengh the auditor recognised how potentially useful he could be as a second in command, but ofc he'd have to earn her trust first. normally i don't try to make things make sense like this but since the auditor isn't actually in MPN i thought i'd at least try lmao

the auditor: ruthless girlboss by day, feral spouse-adjacent shithead by night

phobos is basically the same but instead he's manipulate mansplain by day and malewife manwhore by night /hj

before they got closer they'd never really physically interacted w/ each other, so phobos kind of assumed the auditor would be at least slightly painful to touch [cuz yknow. she's made of fire lmao]. plus he'd witnessed her setting things and people on fire with her bare hands before and he'd rather not get turned into a walking bonfire, thanks. the closest she'd ever been to touching him previously was like flicking the antenna on his helmet to piss him off

but like way, WAY later he finds out that audi can actually manipulate the temperature of their flames to an extent, so when they touch his hand for the first time he's really surprised when they're just like. pleasantly warm. kinda like the fuzziness you feel after you drink something hot but on the outside of your body

however this has also resulted in phobos using her as a mobile safety blanket lmao. sometimes if it gets too cold in the office he'll wander up to her and bug her until she folds a wing around him and tucks his head under her chin

when he's being a shithead sometimes she'll just pick him up by the back of his jacket and drag him off like a disobedient kitten lmao

They don't really have a super crazy height difference normally [i hc that audi is around 6'3 and phobos is 5'10 if he's not slouching] but sometimes she just morphs herself to have a several-foot height advantage just to fuck with him. like she'll appear in his office as this 9-foot-tall behemoth and he'll just be like "?? excuse me?? ma'am?? you can't do this to me???"

before he got to know her better, phobos had no idea the auditor preferred she/they pronouns over they/it like the agents around him seemed to think. he never made a big deal out of it and never explicitly brought it up, but he remembers to switch it up for her every now and then. plus whenever audi overhears him doing that she gets all fuzzy inside sfbfnckvj

phobos really likes her wings. he actually might be a little jealous of them, but he'd never tell her that sfvngk

ever since audi found out about this, they tend to subtly unfurl them and use them to gesticulate more when he's around. occasionally she'll use the claws at the peaks of her wings on touchscreens in place of a finger n stuff. she's also [gently] swatted him upside the head with a wing a few times when he was being a dickhead, but it doesn't really hurt him lol

she also lets him pet them when they're not busy. contrary to what he'd assumed, it doesn't actually feel like a whole lot to her - she's described the feeling as something similar to how it feels to have someone tracing their fingers along the back of your hand

phobos stims sometimes!! he has a bad habit of masking while he's working since a few of them are vocal and he doesn't want to distract anyone, but if he's just hanging out with audi he's totally chill. one of his more common ones is when he thinks out loud, either quietly narrating his current train of thought or saying unrelated words - usually confirmations like 'yeah' or 'mhm' - out loud cuz he thinks they're fun to say. occasionally he'll start humming low in his throat kinda like a microwave cuz he likes how his voice feels in his chest

also when he's standing idle sometimes he holds his arms closer to his chest and fidget with them

the auditor doesn't stim, but to people who know them well their wings are like big signs that can wordlessly describe how they're feeling [which is like my favourite thing to write cos wing emoting is really fun skdjbknk]. occasionally they might subtly flutter their wings when they're very pleased or receive good news, or flare them out when they're irritated/stressed

i always forget that phobos is actually like super powerful in canon so i hc that audi does too lmao. like it always slips her mind that he can teleport too so she'll dramatically disappear after telling him off for doing some dumb shit and fuckin scream when he somehow appears in the same room as her less than a second later

phobos has a red and black lava lamp in his office!! he'd never admit it but he got it cuz it reminds him of audi :]

phobos loves watching audi in combat for some reason. i mean he already likes watching them do stuff so he can backseat drive, but he's also quietly admitted that her fighting style is interesting to watch

he can't really put it into words, but it's because the way they fight looks incredibly effortless and fluid, mainly due to them having so much time to adapt to and understand their powers [both their original powers and the ones granted by the halo]. when phobos' own abilities started to surface he was incredibly unstable and struggled to properly harness them for months, so he thinks it's nice to watch someone who actually knows what they're doing for once.

much to the auditor's surprise, phobos is actually a bit insecure behind all that confudence, particularly about scars. after being close to her for a while, phobos came out of his shell a bit and explained how he managed to grant himself his powers/abilities, which is something i'll absolutely go further in depth with later [via a longer hc that i'm gonna post eventually lol] but to summarise he basically infused himself with raw madness in what he's eloquently dubbed 'the incident'. Of course, doing that to himself didn't come without consequence, and he's permanently scored with a variation of lightning & burn scars on his forearms, thighs, and most of his torso.

for the longest time, the most casual thing he'd wear even around just her was the long-sleeved sweater he wore underneath his trench coat, and he refused to change even if he was literally overheating. though eventually after he told her about what happened he felt way more comfortable and now whenever they're in their shared room audi practically has to throw a shirt at him to get him to wear one sbkcjcnk

the auditor has a sort of subspace/pocket dimension where they can store different items and recall them at will. normally it's pretty empty, but ever since she grew to like phobos she's started keeping miscellaneous things in there for him. sometimes she pulls out a drink or snack that he likes, sometimes she pulls out a little water gun with phobos' name scrawled on it and shoots him with it when he's being a shithead

they are both,, SO fucking touch-starved. like they will not let go of each other [at least if they're not currently in the middle of something or around agency employees] cuz internally they're both just going "wow!!! that's a hand i'm holding!!!!! there's a hand holding my hand!!!! wow!!!!!! i love this!!!!!"

having one eye isn't exactly the best thing for depth perception, especially when you're really tired, so sometimes audi has to hold phobos' hand and guide him around in the mornings because he can [and has] walked into walls and counters

even since before they became a thing, phobos had been a little envious of the auditor's halo and the powers it granted her. he used to subtly try to yoink it from her, maliciously at first but far more playfully later, where he'd like lightly grab it and give it a gentle spin above her head like a mobile. but his infatuation with the halo kinda died after she decided to let him borrow/try it out once by allowing him to link with it

by linking i essentially mean like wearing it, but the halo is so powerful that you can't just 'wear' it without letting it bond with a part of you

long story short, he went into it with far too much overconfidence & cockiness and the halo violently rejected him, kind of like how it rejected the auditor once. he wasn't at all prepared for the sheer amount of power that surged through him the moment it started to link with him, so it essentially short-circuited his brain and knocked him unconscious for the better part of a week. when he woke again, the auditor told him he was lucky his head didn't explode and calmly suggested they never tried that again, and he felt inclined to agree.

of course, he still toys with the halo while the auditor's properly linked with it since he knows it can't link to more than one host at a time. and despite his seeming ease and "it's in the past" sort of mentality about the whole event, if someone mentions the concept of him actually taking the halo and linking with it again, he'll shudder and shake his head, saying it's not his place to do so.

the auditor has no doubt it delivered a pretty harsh blow to his ego [being rejected by the thing that would make him a god would prolly do that], but knows he's too prideful to admit that.

audi likes listening to phobos when he goes off on super long monologues, especially if they're like those super cheesy villain monologues. like he could literally be talking about anything and she'll sit there to hear him out, especially if it's less related to work and more about himself

the auditor is super deliberate in the way they pronounce things and they tend to casually drawl their words out to further cement their cool, unbothered boss persona. however the way she talks doesn't really intimidate phobos anymore since he's also been next to her right after she's been woken up, when she's mumbling quietly & slurring some of her words together. he knows the big scary boss side of the auditor is just a persona used for everyone but him, so he feels a lot more at ease with them even when they're trying to be scary

even after being together for a while, phobos still has no fucking idea what the auditor is made of. like he's admitted to her that he's genuinely clueless, and if she lets him he'll spend like 99% of their downtime quietly interacting with her flames [read: curling his fingers through them and petting them] while he muses about his hypotheses for how stuff like her liquidy-shadow form works. they were a little suspicious of his motives at first, but after they relaxed they realised he was just genuinely curious and willing to share his concepts to see if he was right

they have like. the smoothest banter anyone at the agency has seen. like it's super cheesy back-and-forth stuff that wouldn't sound out of place in an 80s sitcom, but it just kinda flows out when they're both comfortable. and ofc they'd deny it if anyone mentioned it but they literally banter like an old married couple lmAO

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

[ghost0loxer]

Imagine, a gender fluid teenager like myself has a favourite/feel-good film and that film is “Just One of the Guys,”from the mid 80s.

Picture this: theatre class, we watch “She’s The Man”, a dreamworks film from the 2000s. And yet, the social justice issues within the film are glaringly obvious to today’s society. Don’t get me wrong, it can be a funny film in a group setting - but then there are scenes that are just uncomfortable. Now, we discussed these themes in class, but I just can’t help but think about the film that came before it. Yes, StM (she’s the mans) is a modern day adaption of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” but I was thinking about the modern day adaption before StM, “Just One of the Guys” from the mid 80s.

I love this film. For multiple reasons, which I hope to discuss.

Number one, our main character. Terry Griffith is stubborn. If she thinks something is right, she won’t let anyone say no or get in her way. Now in some cases, this is great. It’s definitely a shift in the usual romantic comedy female lead (especially for the 80s). But it’s one of her biggest flaws. In the beginning, Terry doesn’t win a contest for a part-time job at the Sun Tribune. She believes her article was amazing, but she speaks with her English teacher and he gives it to her straight. “You don’t have what it takes to be a reporter.” Her article is boring; it’s about the nutritional value of the lunch menu in the school cafeteria, of course it’s boring. But the words her teacher tells her has her convinced it’s because she’s a woman. Thus, she leaves school for two weeks and transfers as a buy to another school who are holding the same competition. Once she gives her article, she is told almost the same thing, but this time, she’s given proper feedback to improve it. Of course, there was some irony with this scene between Terry and the teacher. “Just because you’re guy, doesn’t mean you can’t be sensitive or light.” Thing is, she doesn’t give up, she strives to fix it and finds a new angle. I love her determination, I love the way she doesn’t let others push her around. Furthermore, her transition to a man. In StM, Viola as a guy is made to be cringey and comedic, you watch and think, there’s no way a guy would do that. But Terry, having grown up with a younger brother and is actually smart, manages to nail the role. Sure, she has slip-ups, but she stays afloat and she’s not being over the top. She’s chill and convincing, yet you as the audience can tell she’s trying to appear masculine. Her lines are witty and she’s sharp. Someone has something to say, she’ll be able to backtrack and answer with a joke or sarcasm quickly. I like smart characters.

Another point, the way women are written in this film. A lot of women in this film are treated like shit, but it’s probably a realistic depiction of the 80s. Everyone is talking about dating and sex, it seems to be the only topic the women in this film speak about, unless they are Terry. Terry seems to be the only character in this film whose main goal is not romance or sex. She strives to be a reporter, she wants to prove herself, and she rejects the advances upon her frequently. Whether it’s the boys asking her on dates in halls, or her own boyfriend attempting to seduce her when her parents aren’t home, she doesn’t put them above herself, yet she still lets them down easily, unless they become more pushy (case in point, her boyfriend, Kevin, in the beginning). She can stand up for herself, but she’s not the only one. Her best friend, Denise is one of the many women looking for love, nevertheless, she holds standards. I will admit, I didn’t like Denise’s acting in the beginning; she’s not a great character, but even she manages to reject men’s advances constantly. She’s not afraid to say it bluntly and she expresses her true emotions when certain guys try to ask her out. She tells it to them straight, and I respect her for that (despite her lack of empathy for some). Terry’s brother is constantly hitting on Denise, but she stands her ground. She doesn’t hit him or curse him out, she spins words around him and always lead back to the key word “no.”

This is my third, and maybe final point, (because I’m not great at writing but I’m starting to get tired) the way they handle sexual orientation. It seems if you’re going to make a film about a cross-dressing woman who falls in love with a man, you have to discuss sexuality and this film is not afraid to. That was my biggest beef with StM, when Viola confessed her love to Duke, the made it blatantly clear that it was “weird” and “unusual”; the editing and music cuts. It was done for comedic purposes, but in that moment, it just made me cringe. Even when the principal marched onto the field during the big match to expose Sebastian as “the woman he was all along,” he used a big megaphone and said to the whole crowd this man is in fact a girl. If it were to happen in the real world, and this character was a trans male, that would be traumatizing and so so insensitive. I couldn’t help thinking the way they handled the reveal in StM was poor and shitty.

But with JOotG (just one of the guys)? It’s done respectfully. Throughout the film, Buddy, Terry’s younger, sex-obsessed brother (I have thoughts on this character), often refers to Terry as a transvestite or sexually confused. They make references about her dating other women and jokes. It’s not treated like taboo, but just something people normally talk about, and as a questioning kid when I first watched the film, I really needed that. Although it was used for jokes, the fact that it wasn’t treated like a silent topic made me think more of it and discover who I was; it was media like this that made me accept myself.

Even with the reveal. Kevin, Terry’s boyfriend (or ex boyfriend by the end), stomps up to Terry after she’s wrestled with the school bully and was dumped into the waves at prom. Rick, who’s been Terry’s friend (and is the male lead) throughout her time at his high school, immediately questions who Kevin is and he responds with a harsh and sure “Terry’s boyfriend.” Of course, that doesn’t expose Terry as female, but makes Rick assume she’s a homosexual. But instead of calling her weird or replying negatively, he answers Kevin’s question calmly and says he’s just a friend. There is no prejudice, no disgust, Rick is shocked, but that’s expected. Furthermore, this reveal not only does not alienate homosexuality, it puts the center of focus on the main characters rather than have the whole audience/prom witness this exchange. Sure, the rest of the school is watching but the camera never pans over to them, and even then, Terry drags Rick away from the crowds to a secluded area to explain more.

Even once they’re secluded, Rick doesn’t yell at her or is homophobic. He just says “I understand, you’re gay.” As we know, Terry is not in fact gay and she reveals this to him in a similar fashion as StM, at least it’s not flashing a whole crowd. But the thing that hits me, is the fact that it’s not used as a joke or for comedy. Throughout the film, they’ve mentioned homosexuality and being transgender, but it was used as a light-hearted joke (nothing insulting or derogatory). In this moment, it’s not a joke, and it’s the bare minimum for a emotional scene like this, but it always hits me.

Of course, Rick gets justifiably mad that he’s been deceived and he storms off. Terry’s flaw catches up to her here, as she kisses him in front of the prom guests, stubborn to make him realize how much she cares. ( I didn’t agree with this action to be frank, I cringed ). The crowd gasps and it’s the usual reaction to a homosexual kiss and Rick just pulls back, says “It’s alright everyone, he’s got tits,” and leaves with Deborah.

In true romantic comedy fashion, life moves on. Terry gets the job at the Sun-Tribune after writing her article about posing as a guy and everyone who was longing for love in the beginning has found it, except Terry. The ending, however, is Rick coming back for her after a couple (days? Weeks? Idk all I know is it’s summer by the time he comes back, how much space between prom and summer?) and they kiss, go on a date and all is good.

Now after writing this long ass post, I’ve come to realize the main reason I like this film. Sure, Terry is a good character (not morally sometimes, but she’s interesting to watch), the way women are presented also is good, but my main source of affection for this film (in comparison to StM) is the way they handle the switching of genders. I’m gender fluid, I don’t always like being a woman or a man, I switch almost daily and half the time can’t decide if I want to grow out my hair or cut it. Seeing Terry, originally a woman, manage to convince people she was a guy made me wish I could do it too. It made me realize, I don’t always like being a woman. I want to be a guy sometimes, and I want that to be accepted. It was media like this, like Ouran High School Host Club, like Bare: A Pop Opera, that made me understand my gender and sexuality. (Even media that didn’t have any relation to LGBTQ+ helped).

When I first heard of “She’s the Man”, I had hoped it would be like these pieces of media. And it wasn’t. It was an alright film, but made me feel disappointed and somewhat let down. And that’s why I just prefer Just One of the Guys. Maybe it wouldn’t float in today’s political climate, maybe I’m wrong for seeing these points as reasons it’s one of my favorites, but its still better than StM and is one of my favourite films.

[stray-kids-react]

Hi,can I please request a ship with BTS TXT and Enhypen?

Appearance: I am 5'4",subtle v-line shape but I have chubby cheeks as well. I have long brown hair,brown eyes,medium tan skin with pink undertones.I started working out so the hourglass shape is coming along. Many say I have a doll face but nevermind.

My sun sign is Aquarius,moon in Virgo.

Hobbies: I love to draw,sing,bake and cook. I also like editing videos and pics once in a while because I am good at them. I also like reading about history/conspiracy theories/space/psychology/nature poems. Anything that catches my eyes. I also like to listen to music in speakers while chillin on my bed(what I have been doing this entire quarantine) or while I am baking. I hate dieting so I am usually searching up recipes to cook dishes in a healthy way. I like to watch anime as well.

Personality: I am an ambivert. I like being social, meeting different social groups and learning from them,having new experiences,going to new places. But I consider very few people close to me and they mean the world to me. I am also the unpaid therapist of my friends. Like I give them advices,try to understand them. I mentally grew up at a young age so I mostly end up taking care of others,I don't mind that at all. I also like making others laugh and smile and many say my humour is very witty. I am also honest and straightforward but a bit sassy. I love animals, especially dogs. They are just adorable. I am also creative so often I give small handmade gifts to my closed ones or compliment them a lot,but only them. Other than that I am pretty reserved. I like spending time alone in nature,it really calms me down. I also like taking walks, especially in autumn afternoon or winter night. I also love kids and babysat them quite often.

My goods: I am very responsible about my duties, independent. But I know when to have fun and when it's time to be serious with life. I am also very passionate and hard working towards my goals. Other than that I am easy going. I am observant so I can read a person/situation in a room easily. I am also adapting and adjusting but I know when to speak up. I am very good at convincing people/explaining something to someone. I can also remain calm under stressful situations and work my way out. I am also very clear about my wants and opinions. I am also very fair,and wanna do something for the unheard voice of the society/environment.

My weaknesses: I often get too passionate and stop caring about others/to eat/to take breaks and tend to over-work. I also have a tendency to be bratty sometimes and lose my temper though I am working on it. I can also be a bit cold.

My style:Girly+chic. I love floral dresses in blue and pink. But I also love jackets-boots in brown-grey-black. I keep my makeup natural most of the time but can also ace a red-lips look.

My ideal type: Someone who is a lot elder than me,someone a bit motherly (mommy and daddy issues lol) who can take care of me,tell me when to take it easy,be honest with me,tell me if anything/if I am wrong. Someone who can protect me,help me in decision-making,give me advices. He should also be able to cook and tell jokes so we can have small cooking dates together. Someone who can deal with my bratty side but in a gentle way mostly. I don't mind him scolding me. For me quality time is important. I have no problem in long distance relationship but he should trust me a lot. Trust is really important for me. He should have an air of mystery as well. Like at first they seem very social but are actually quite reserved. I don't commit easily but when I do,it's for a long time. He should also have that patience and not just jump into a relationship. He should be funnier than me but in general he should be reserved. I am independent also committed type of person. I am not clingy and don't like pda much but hugging and holding hands is fine. I wanna spend time with him,maybe cuddling on the couch or just back hugging him like a koala while he is cooking but not all the time and only he knows this side of me. We should also be able to have deep talks but share jokes and laugh a lot as well. We can also take walks of go out to new places maybe to eat. He should also love eating since I cook and bake a lot.

Physically: I find broad features really attractive since I don't know why but they scream home, comfort, protection. Like broad chest/shoulders but not someone too muscular. He should also be taller than me.,like towering over me.

Love language: often receiving small gifts /compliments a lot from me. I also like it when someone pets my head(like a dog),I find it affectionate. Spending time together on the couch/just walking in a park holding hands, laughing together/just enjoying the peaceful silence.

I know I wrote really long, I am sorry for it. Thank you💜💜

-

From BTS I ship you with RM

° He is definitely the type of boyfriend to spoil his s/o, even if they tell him not to because you already have gotten so many gifts from him. But he still buy more because he can and wants to.

° Will be the more dominant person in a relationship, you can see this especially since he is the leader of BTS. But he isn't controlling, if you ask him for cuddles on the couch. He will oblige instantly, to make you happy.

° He will need someone who is mature and can be independent since he will be busy with his job, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it when you goof around with him from time to time.

From TxT I ship you with Taehyun

° Taehyun can seem like the most reserved member from TxT at times, and he definitely is not a person who would jump into a relationship without getting to know them... He needs to be able to trust the person first.

° Taehyun doesn't seem like he'd be into PDA, mostly sticking to holding your hand or sometimes patting your head when you're being extra cute. But in private he can become clingy when he's tired from the day.

° If you are playfully sassing him, he will not hesitate to throw it right back at you. Which can lead to playful fights, turning into tickle fights on the couch. Stopping when a member walks in.

From Enhypen I ship you with Sunghoon

° Out of the three of them, he's probably the least dominant just because he would be so chill in a relationship. But he wouldn't hesitate to take charge if you needed him to.

° When you overwork yourself, he will call you on it instantly. He doesn't care if you crab at him for him calling you out, he knows you're just tired and worn out. And he will drag you from whatever you are doing if he has to.

° Like Taehyun, Sunghoon does seem to be reserved. So peaceful silence when cuddling or watching a show would make him feel closer to you, since it means he doesn't have to start up conversations to feel comfortable with you.

[omigiry]

Being best friends with Kunimi and Kindaichi

request:  hcs for being besties with kunimi and kindaichi ? - anon

ry’s notes: I really love Kunimi, he’s one of my favorite characters in Seijoh (even though all of them are my faves) and I really relate to him so much along with Kenma who’s just too lazy at some point. (edited)

━━━ 𝙆𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙞

Kunimi is one lazy guy. We all know that he hates the phrase “go all out.”

Being his best friend means you can’t drag him out of his house that easily. When you do he��ll mostly stay on his phone. He enjoys hanging out with you, but he much prefers hanging out at your house or his house and just lies on the couch and chill.

When he gives advice he would first insult you before giving one. When he knows you’re serious he would make an effort to actually give genuine and well thought advice.

Would be there to support you, not just physically. Because the boy loves his bed more than anything else. (jk he loves you more but doesn’t admit it)

You love to annoy him just to see his reaction. If he insults you, you insult him back. It’s how you both show your affection towards each other.

Both of you share with each other the weird and funny things you see on the internet, especially the struggle tweets.

“For the last time, no.” Kunimi said as you try to convince him to hang out at the mall after class. 

“Come on. I wanna watch the movie.” You tried again as you kept pulling his arm.

“Let’s wait for it to be online.” He reasoned out. 

“But that would take another year!” He grimaced, he knows that you’re not going to easily give up. You’ve been talking about this movie ever since it was announced and how you wanted to watch it in the cinema. It was a movie adaptation of one of the best selling books, you’ve checked out already and you were hooked.

“Fine.” He finally gave up and your face immediately lit up. “But I know this wouldn’t be worth it.”

Once the movie was done, so to say Kunimi was right. It wasn't worth it. 

“I told you so.” He said as he enjoys the look of disappointment on your face. You glared at him, hating the fact that he was right.

The movie did no justice on how the book portrayed the characters and some of the notable parts of the book got cut off on the movie.

“Next time, if I say so, you’ll gladly agree. Kunimi knows best.”

━━━ 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞

He’s a competitive guy and would not easily back down. 

Whenever you play games together he would get competitive and defeat you with all his might. If he loses a game he would want a rematch. He would also keep records of how many wins and loses he had with you. (let’s pretend that you crushed him a lot of times that’s why he’s salty)

You would sometimes have a debate of which one is better and which one is not — type of debates.

Down for anything. He won’t be the one asking to hang out, but if you did he would accompany you or immediately say yes. 

The only thing he would drag you is to watch a volleyball match with him or practice with him.

Ready to protect you like an older sibling.

When you’re sad he would buy you your comfort food and would stay with you until you feel alright. And once you are he would say that the food was not free (he’s only kidding tho to make you feel better)

“My server lagged. Let’s have a rematch!” Kindaichi said over the call you were having as you played a 1v1 match. 

You agreed and crushed him again and he would ask for another rematch. You defeated him countless times and you would comment on the number of wins you had just to rub it in his face. 

“Well it’s because I have club activities and you don’t, so I don’t have any time to play video games that much.” He made an excuse. 

“What was that? I can’t hear you. I only hear cries of a loser.” You poked his competitiveness and would sometimes make an unfair match. Like who could reach the ceiling on the corridor or even challenge you in volleyball.

You’d get in a debate on what’s better, coffee or milktea. You’ll both chat in all caps like you’re screaming at each other just to prove your point. Both of you wouldn’t give up and would drag Kunimi in the conversation.

The debate won’t end unless someone changes the subject and it’s Kunimi’s job to do that just to stop the both of you flooding his notifications so that he could enjoy watching a video.

𝗯𝗼𝗻𝘂𝘀 + 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙙

You got yourself two personal bodyguards that would make fun of you.

When someone bullies you they are ready to protect you. Saying that they are the only one who has the right to bully you. On a serious note, they will really protect you at all cost. They know that you’re a tough person (surviving the friendship you have with the two made you tough because of all the insults they throw at you), but there’s still a limit to it. So if they know it’s getting out of hand, they’ll step in.

Love it when you bring them snacks during practices.

It isn’t a normal day if the three of you are not having a heated conversation over something, like the one with Kindaichi. Kunimi is tired of it.

Likes to rest their elbows or arms on your shoulder if you’re shorter than them and you would shove it away and kick them on the knees. 

You never walk in the corridors alone, if it’s not with the two of them, one would always be by your side. 

Lowkey terrified of you when you get mad.

You three were walking on the way to the gym when someone randomly insults you. Like the big person you are, you ignored them. It isn’t worth it to waste energy on people like them. It was all fine but then they decided to hit a sore topic and it made you stop.

Kunimi and Kindaichi sense your sudden change of attitude, before you could even do something Kunimi put a hand on your shoulders. “I never knew Seijoh lowered their standards to accept students like them.” He said it enough for them to hear it. 

Kindaichi would glare at them as he shields your back in order for you not to look. 

The third years were also on their way to the gym so they saw what happened. Since you were close with Kunimi and Kindaichi and watched them practice they got to know you too, they joined in protecting you and the third years being proud of them standing up for you. 

“We did it because if she’s the one who fought back, they might end up transferring to another school.” Kindaichi jokes.

“Or her getting suspended.” Kunimi added. You weren’t violent but your words hurt when you get fired up or angry.

“You know I was gonna thank you by treating you guys, but I changed my mind.”

requests are open, hc’s, scenarios, imagines. but it might take me a lil while to make it, i’ll still try my best. Thank you for reading, really appreciate y’all  ♡ ♡ ♡ stay hydrated and keep your hands clean  ♡

[verysharpteeth]

Shadow & Bone: Episode 2

“We’re All Someone’s Monster”

Bin Bons gets out that ol’ black magic. Mal won’t stay seated. Kaz has a terrible, no good, really bad evening. There are Norwegians here who really hate witches.

We pick up with Alina being dragged into Kirigan’s tent because she just shot light everywhere. She’s understandably confused. But lo and behold he gets her to give another light show. Seems that everyone is tested to be a Grisha when they’re young but somehow Alina got missed. It has to do with Mal. Generally everything has to do with Mal when it comes to her. 

Cut to Kaz, who is trying to figure out how to get through the Fold and coming to a lot of dead ends. Inej gets up in his face about how he’s going to take her along when she’s still owned by Heleen’s brothel and can’t leave town. Kaz finally gets frustrated and snaps at her and is instantly, visibly regretful. Inej storms out and gets called back to Heleen’s brothel for a job. 

Alina is shipped off to the Little Palace where the Grisha live. She isn’t able to see Mal again, but that doesn’t keep him from chasing after her twice with a bum leg they keep trying to fix but he keeps sprinting away every time they try to stop the bleeding. Alina’s escort gets attacked on the way to the Little Palace by Fjordans, this universe’s term for what are clearly Norwegians. And they think Grisha are witches. Witches that need to be murdered, which is a commitment to superstition one can only marvel at considering they’re infiltrating another country to kill them. Alina looks in serious trouble until Kirigan/The Darkling shows up. Bin Bons does an amazing running dismount from his horse in this scene that I loved. He also cuts a Norwegian in half. 

Heleen, who is in to child trafficking, wants Inej to kill a dude who she says is also a child trafficker. Inej will get her freedom if she does. That’s a problem considering killing goes against Inej’s religion. Kaz gets confronted by Pekka Rollins over stealing his job. This scene shows Kaz at his weakest, since he’s caught off guard because he thinks whoever is coming in is Inej (and he is preoccupied with trying to get her un-mad at him) and physically he’s outmatched by Rollin’s goons. He’s defiant to the core though. After being warned off by Rollins (which he’s obviously not going to allow to stop him) he realizes there’s a woman in his casino that somehow got to Ketterdam across the Fold because of how she counts money. He gets her to tell him how he she got there and finds out about the Conductor, who has a method for crossing the Fold. He and Jesper go to look for someone who knows the Conductor. Kaz knows Heleen has him over a barrel when it comes to Inej. Jesper comments how evil the whole manipulation is and Kaz is like “yeah, it’s what I’d do so...”. 

The Darkling takes Alina to the Little Palace. He talks about them ending the Fold, but the evil tilt of his head suggests he’s more after UNLIMITED POWER. Alina is distraught that she’s technically a prisoner. 

Kaz talks to a performer named Poppy who knows the Conductor. He realizes Poppy has inadvertently given Heleen the Conductor’s location and rushes there to keep Inej from killing their only way across the Fold. Inej hasn’t been sent to kill a child trafficker, Heleen has nearly duped her into killing their meal ticket. Kaz nearly gets himself impaled by Inej, but is able to stop her. She seems hurt that “he’d choose money over her freedom” which is a little confusing since she didn’t want to kill the guy. I guess she would have gone through with it even though he wasn’t a child trafficker just to get free of Heleen? But she didn’t seem comfortable with that 15 minutes ago? Kaz is like “yeah yeah I’ll get both so chill”.

Mal is off to desert the army and find Alina. He is blessedly more charismatic in the show adaptation. He’s stopped by his two friends who beg him to think of some way to legitimately get invited to the Little Palace. Mal reconsiders and the one friend puzzles over why Mal isn’t mad that Alina lied to him all this time. The other friend comments about “your closest friend being in danger makes you do stupid things”. 

Hard cut to Kaz doing one of those stupid things. He puts up his casino as collateral for Inej’s freedom so he can take her with them. If they don’t get this money he loses everything. Kaz is a hilarious combination of ballsy to the point of arrogance about his own abilities and desperately in love with Inej to the point of risking everything he has for her. You don’t know whether to be impressed or put off. 

[liquor-and-intellect]

PREHISTORIC

Summary: Talia is a singer inspired by the man who broke her heart. The man who left her to pursue his career in the music industry without a second thought. The man who happens to be Harry Styles and is paying her show a visit. 

A/N: this is based off of Prehistoric by Now, Now. I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for YEARS and it feels so lovely getting it out. Enjoy:)

“Tal, we’re up in five.”

I paused my movements of bouncing my foot up and down as I relaxed back in the cold metal chair backstage. It stunk of stale cigarettes within this whole shitty venue.

I nodded toward Roman. “Got it,” I yelled back with a toothy smile.

He was about to retreat out of the room but paused in the doorway to give me a last glance—a glance I knew all too well. He gave me this look quite frequently, as if I had hung the stars in the sky. He was my biggest fan— I knew that without a doubt. Every night, every venue he cheered me on from behind the bass of his drum set. I could always feel his eyes on me as I performed.

I stood up and rolled my shoulders, reminding myself that no matter how the environment of the venue looked, I would step on that stage and be the most authentic version of myself.  There was no time to pretend to adapt to the people around me, I had learned that the hard way.

It was always difficult to not tone my performance down if the crowd just wasn’t into it. Sometimes, we played in front of statues. Other times, it was magnetic and a hit of the right atmosphere was like shooting the perfect drug into my veins—addicting and leaving me wanting more. I always came back for the chance of that high.

I had been writing for years, singing and beating on a piano for even more. The ride of my music career began with the only man I had every loved. He encouraged me to write, gushed over my vulnerable lyrics and allowed me to bleed out onto the pages of journals without a second thought. We would be up all night, playing until our fingers blistered over and I swore my joints were withering away with the night hours.

His voice was the only one that would leave me with chills every time it harmonized with my own.

He had been in the midst of chasing his own career as well during our three years together. When it took off, he left. Not a cold cut split but one that took years to unravel us from one another. Midnight calls and drunk confessions left toxins in my bloodstream. I would never be able to move on if we hadn’t cut off contact, I’m sure I’d still be in the revolving door of his control over me.

That had been years ago…

And yet I still thought of him every time I warmed up my vocal cords.

It also was hard not to think of him as his song echoed over the speakers of the club we were playing in, biding time with the audience as my band got ready to play. The catchy chorus—which I had to admit was mesmerizing—asked the listener if they knew who they were in such a haunting repetition that it raised the hairs on my arms.

He was living it big somewhere—never once mentioning my name or my writings that motivated him to pursue his dreams.

And here I was still playing in shitty bars.

I walked toward the curtain, Roman waiting for me with a smile on his face, drumsticks in his hand.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered.

I dressed eccentrically when I performed. Letting my artistic vision bleed its way into my style. Tonight, my outfit of choice was a Fashion Nova glittery mesh shirt with bell-shaped sleeves over a chrome bralette.

I nodded in his direction, the pre-performance jitters rendering me unable to give a proper response, as the lights in the bar dimmed and we walked on stage.

This was one of our larger venues, a local take of the House of Blues. I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed a few loyal fans standing in front of the stage, smiles and phones ready. The crowd was decently sized tonight.

My face lit up and I hoped this rush was just as good as the last one. “One…two…One, two, three, four!” I yelled as the electric guitar started up and the lights faded in, I grabbed the microphone and launched into our opener, a fast-paced indie ballad that gave people a glimpse of what our music was like.

The audience was wonderful, bobbing along and swaying to the beat. I even saw a few jumping up and down to Roman’s drumstick hitting the surface of the instrument. Being on the stage was electric… I lost myself within the music, letting my raspy voice ease itself over the lyrics, bouncing around the stage in my buckled boots like I had never felt dancing before.

My whole body was buzzing with electricity as we finished our second song and I prepared myself for the one that always pulled at my heart strings.

I used to give a prelude to this one, let the microphone rest against my mouth as I told the crowd what it was about, why I wrote it and allowed anyone who was listening the opportunity to see how much this person still effected my every thought. I didn’t do that anymore… he didn’t deserve it.

I sang instead to the rhythmic beat that Roman provided. Letting the words pulse through my skull.

“I know this will mess things up tonight

But God it feels so good to close my eyes.

I’ll say I’ve been trying to move on

We both know I’m not.”

I threw my head back as the beat hit and let my body drag me away from the mic stand for a momentary breath. I thought of the green eyes that had haunted my dreams when I wrote this song. I thought of shared cigarette smoke over music sheets and a slow decay of a relationship that tore me apart from the inside out.

“It may be different now, but the pattern won’t wash out

Covers up our eyes, leaves us with knots and severed ties

We follow new lines.”

I hugged the microphone between my palms as I let my voice rasp its way to the audience’s waiting ears. Harry and I had been lying in bed when the thought of this song came to my mind with our backs to each other. I was too afraid to turnaround. Too prideful to ask what would become of us if he got his record deal and had to move to L.A. I had felt his distance before I could physically put words to it.

I finally allowed myself to look up to the audience as I sang this next part. My heart sinking as I met eyes with the last person I expected to see. In an effort to stop my racing heart, I tightly shut my eyes.  

“I would trade this sleep for you in a heartbeat…

But this weather will not lift

Leaves us shouting into cliffs, without an echo…”

Reopening them, I was met with his steady gaze, confirming to myself that it was not a hallucination.

“Each day you come closer

So close I can almost feel your breath

On my shoulders.”

I didn’t know how to look away from him and look to someone else—and by the look on his face, he noticed.

Tearing the mic from its stand, I turned to face Roman, doing a full circle before forcing myself to walk to the edge of the stage and look into the opposite corner of the bar.

“But I know if I turn around…” The words were now truer than they had ever been. “you might run away again.”

The guitar and drums hit at once, the song rising to its peak as I let my shoulders drop with the beat.

“Stuck like those prehistoric mammoths in the ice

Thaw me out and I won’t close my eyes.”

Even though I shut my eyes, I could still feel his presence within the room as if he was standing a foot from me. I thought of how I had desperately prayed to any god that might have heard me for him to turn around and face me under that white duvet every night. If he would just turn around, I would forget why I was hurting, I would forget why I was questioning everything I thought I knew. I would fight sleep and stay up to the ends of the night if it meant keeping him with me.

“Stuck like those prehistoric mammoths in the ice

Thaw me out and I won’t go to sleep tonight.”

The guitar player continued his rift and I forced myself to face away from the crowd as the song came to an end and cheers erupted.

I put on a brave face, continuing with two of my original songs and a cover. I avoided the right side of the bar where Harry stood concealed in a jacket with a hood pulled up, nursing something in a shorter glass—if he was anything like he used to be, it would be whiskey.

The few times I turned around and met eyes with Roman, he would shoot an eyebrow up, noticing the rigidness in my dancing. The guitar and bass players were not as in tune with me as he was, continuing to strum along their instruments with the same glee they always had.

The last guitar note held in the air as I finished my last song. Breathless in the microphone, I yelled, “I’m Talia and thank you for having us tonight!” I kissed both of my hands and raised them above my head in a final goodbye, risking a glance to the right side of the bar where a previously filled stool now sat empty. There was a moment of disappointment in my chest before walking off the stage, letting the boys finish out their final notes on their instruments.

It wasn’t until I hit the last step on the stairs backstage that I let my true panic take hold of me. What the hell was he doing here?

I racked my brain of all the scenarios that have landed him in this bar by any form of logic I could muster and none of them made any sense. He was big shot now. Hosting Saturday Night Live and announcing world tours. Why would he be in this shitty venue?

My heels clicked as I rounded the corner into the common area backstage and came to a full halt at the man now standing in front of me.

He had the same green eyes… but everything else was drastically different. His hair was parted down the middle, his shoulders pulled back and resting with confidence. His hands were in his pockets, but I still could see the elaborate rings that adorned each finger. Although he wore a black sweatshirt, there was an ornate Gucci logo on the front—which I knew to cost more than we got paid tonight.

I swallowed the biggest lump in my throat, suddenly feeling exposed in my shorts and bralette.

“You were…” His voice sounded the same—deep, long and melodic. “amazing out there. So magnetic.”

Three years ago, I would have bent over backwards for a compliment like that.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, I didn’t want to waste time with small talk. He disrupted my night—my life—and I deserved to know why.

He took in a deep breath and sighed, having prepared himself for my brashness. “Uh… well. I was in town and heard you were playing.”

“Bullshit.” I crossed my arms.

He pursed his lips. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

“I wanted to see you.”

My heart—reverting back to its natural state—fluttered within my chest. Even after all these years, he still had the power to do that to me. This was why our break had to be a cold, clean cut. My body always turned to a vulnerable mush when he was round.

There was noise behind me as the boys came down the stairs, laughing in their giddy way they did post-show. They stopped dead in their tracts as they noticed the star in front of me.

“Woah, is that Harry Styles?” David, the bass player, asked.

Harry smiled in their direction, walking forward to shake their hands, forever a gentleman. “You all did amazing tonight. Great job.”

I could feel Roman’s gaze on my stiff posture and defensive stance as he attempted to connect the dots in his head. “Tal, you okay?” he whispered to me, nudging my elbow with his hand.

Harry’s eyes snapped to Roman, assessing him in a way he hadn’t done previously. Jealousy?

“Yeah, I’m great. Just about to leave,” I spun on my heel and directed myself to the dressing room.

“But we have a guest!” David yelled.

Harry cleared his throat. “Actually,” he announced to get my attention. “I wanted to ask your band something, Talia.”

The sound of my name from his mouth was enough for my head to whip around in a beat.  

“I need an opener for the American leg of my tour next year-“

“What the fuck, Harry. You are not about to ask me this,” I cut him off, the anger from years ago fighting its way out to finally have release.

“- I want to ask you and your band to open… for me,” he finished, eyes frozen on me. Had he gone mad? Had he forgotten the past 5 years? How he left me in the dust of his career when someone besides me showed interest in his talent.

I could feel the confusion of the boys on the other side of the room as they eyed Harry and I.

“Well,” David began. “I, for one, think that opening for Harry fucking Styles would be absolutely amazing.”

“Not happening,” I shot back.

Aiden held his hands up. “Talia, this is the big break you’ve been talking about. Why wouldn’t we take it?”

I looked back to Harry, letting all the hurt and venom I could gather lace my words. “Because he could have done this fucking years ago.”

Harry shook his head. “Tal, you know I couldn’t—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“The label told me it was all or nothing,” he continued. “and I didn’t argue. I didn’t know how. I was twenty years old.”

I nodded. “Yeah… well now I’m twenty three and there’s no way in fucking hell you can just waltz in here-“

“Okay,” Roman interjected, stepping between Harry and I. He took a moment to let our eyes meet before he lowered his hands, knowing he gained my attention. “let’s take a deep breath and maybe have this conversation somewhere else.”

Harry nodded as if it had been his own fucking idea.

I wanted to explode even more at the idea of Roman telling me to calm down but realized that causing a scene in a building that is paying us to be here might not be the best idea.

In defeat, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to get some air,” I mumbled.

“I’ll go with you,” Roman interjected.

I held up my hand, a silent plea for him to leave me alone as I made my way out the door that lead to the alleyway.

My heart was still racing from the stage and now throwing in Harry was like forcing my body into fight or flight mode. I had envisioned the day I would run into him so many times that I never was aware that I would just be filled with anger when I saw his face again. I thought I’d be over it by now. Passive even.

I grabbed a cigarette and placed it between my lips, flicking the lighter a few times with my thumb before the spark showed itself. Taking a deep draw, I willed the nicotine to ignite my lungs with every type of chemical it had. I wanted it to take me far from here.

A scuff of a boot, then a familiar melodic voice.

“I didn’t know you were still smoking.”

I didn’t even bother to look at Harry as I let the smoke lift itself out of my mouth and into the night sky. “I wasn’t until three minutes ago.”

A gulp. I wondered if his Adam’s apply bobbed when he did that. “I stress you out that much?”

In a moment of vulnerability, a lapse of judgement, I shook my head. “No,” I murmured, taking another draw of my cigarette. “you fucking terrify me.” It was true. I was so fucking scared of the way my body was drawn to his, even after all the shit he’s done. I was scared that he was going to up and leave with no goodbye again and I’d be left in the dust of all the amazing things he was going to accomplish without me.

Harry didn’t ask me to elaborate, probably because he felt he was pushing his luck by just standing out here with me. Maybe because he already knew why I was scared. In a hopeless way, I wondered if he was scared to.

He took a step closer to me while I kept my gaze focused on the cracks in the bricks across from us. “Look,” he said hesitantly. “I want to talk to you. I want you let all of the frustration and anger you’ve felt for the last years out on me. I deserve it… and you deserve for me to hear every single feeling you’ve experienced.”

I threw my cigarette to the ground and scuffed it into the pavement with my booth.

“I don’t want you to have to do this here,” he continued. “I’m staying at the hotel off 4th. Room 310. I’m here until tomorrow.”

Harry paused for a moment, half expecting me to give him an answer now. But he knew me well enough to know that my silence meant contemplation—and that’s the best thing he could hope for in that moment.

I turned to catch a glimpse of him, but all I could see was his back as the door shut softly behind him. Leaving me once again with so many unsaid words.

PART TWO? Let me know!

[xxsanshinexx]

Dick Boy

Characters: Felix X reader (featuring Ateez)

Genre: Crack/Fluff

Words: 3809

Synopsis: Your soulmate just wouldn’t stop drawing dicks on your arm

~

You were told growing up that soulmates were a special thing. It was the person who your soul was tied to, who could make you the happiest you could ever be, it was someone everyone in their lives wanted to meet at least once. Your parents were lucky enough to have found each other early on in life, some of your friends had found theirs while on the playground at recess and others were still idly searching for their second half. People said that when they realized who they’re soulmate was, an intense feeling of euphoria flowed through them; however, you were skeptical that you would have such feelings towards your soulmate. 

They just wouldn’t stop drawing dicks on your arm. 

Soulmates were attached by drawing on the skin. Whatever you wrote down on yourself would become plastered to your soulmates skin until you removed it. So when small doodles showed up on your skin as a child you were rather fond of the scribbles. There were small drawings of dogs, of singers, and occasionally a poorly written hello which you barely had time to respond to before it was washed away. Those sweet drawings from childhood had washed away entirely by the time you had reached middle school, high school, and now college. Instead of “hello” or “good morning”, it was “what’s 34 to the 3rd degree” or “What else is in a cell all I remember is mitochondria”. While your soulmate was endearing, he was also annoying. 

Especially now as a rather large dick began to mark the top of your arm, for everyone in your morning lecture to see. You were jolted from your adapt note taking as the shapes began to take form, making your face heat up in embarrassment as you tried your best to cover it. On most days, you even brought a jacket no matter the weather to hide the embarrassing images that appeared on the skin of your body.

“Another dick pic?” Jongho, a friend you had made on the first day of your college experience due to another unfortunate placage of phallical drawings, laughed as you pressed your hand against the desk trying to cover the growing amount of drawings.

“This little shit has an obsession I swear!” You quietly grumbled as you tried to focus back on your lecture and notes, but the ghost of a pen marking your skin was hard to ignore; especially as it creeped up your arm.

“Damn this one is bigger than the last,” Jongho traced the outline of the shapes trailing up your arm, “This one is incredibly vivid as well… maybe your soulmate is just a really good dick drawer? Ever thought about that? Art majors are weird in inexplicable ways.”

“Just give me a marker and shut up.”

Jongho scoffed and rolled his eyes, focusing back on the professor who seemed to still be on the same topic, “What makes you think I have markers on me.”

“There’s literally a coloring book out in front of you.” Indeed, Jongho never failed to bring some childish activity to do during your morning lectures. He found them too boring to pay attention to and would much rather listen to them on his phone later when his brain was up to it. 

He sighed in defeat and handed you a bright red marker, a contrast to the black on your arm, “I’d rather you not expose me in front of the entire class.”

“Trust me, you’re doing that to yourself right now,” You uncapped the marker with you teeth and took another look at his book, “Is that Hello Kitty?”

“Leave her out of this you dick fanatic.” His comment made a few people around you turn their heads and you ducked, the redness of your cheeks brighter than the marker in your hand. Jongho wasn’t lying though, your soulmate really was a dick fanatic. Lifting your arm back onto the table, it was nearly entirely covered in phallical images, some more vivid than others, and it made you grit your teeth in annoyance; even more so at the fact that they had the audacity to do so in all the colors of the rainbow. 

“Can you not draw dicks on yourself at 10 a.m. please, I just want to get through my classes.”

There was a reply no less than a minute later, but it was in a different handwriting than normal, “Ah so your his soulmate. We didn’t think you’d see all of these.”

You scoffed at the reply, scribbling back angrily, “Do you not know how soulmates work?? Now go wash him off or something I have to give a presentation and I DO NOT want dicks on my arms.”

“You’re no fun, your soulmate thinks it’s funny.” 

“I’m sure he does now please wash his arm.” You paused as you looked up, noticing a few eyes trailing your arms and to the frantic scribbling of your pen, “This is embarrassing.” 

“I’m so drawing more, when’s your presentation? I’ll draw one right on his forehead for you <3”

You decided in that moment that you hated whoever your soulmate associated himself with, “If I ever find out who you are I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”

 “Those are big words coming from someone with dicks all over their-” the words were cut off abruptly, with a smudged trail of ink following them. You frowned at the sudden lack of words until more began to appear, this time in an all too familiar handwriting, “I'M SO SORRY ABOUT MY FRIENDS I GO SHOWER RIGHT NOW.”

“Just wash the dicks off your arm please… and stop letting them draw on you.” you sighed as you capped the pen, leaning back in your seat avoiding the amused stares from your classmates. 

Jongho chuckled at your flustered state and took the pen from your hands, “So you get through to them?”

“It’s a he apparently,” You leaned your forehead against the desk, all motivation to follow along in today's lecture entirely gone, “And he has very awful friends.”

“Sounds more like he’s in middle school than college.”

“You act the exact same way, hello kitty boy.”

“Shut the fuck up y/n,” Jongho hissed, hiding his coloring book in his lap, eyes darting around for anyone who was listening in. Of course your other classmates were having a field day watching the two of you interact, the lecture long forgotten though it didn’t seem like your professor noticed. They never seemed to really care after the third week.

“Chill Jongho, i’m only kidding.” You frowned down at your arm, watching as the drawing began to fade one by one. You wished you knew more about your soulmate than just his friends being obsessed with drawing dicks and him being a he.There were certain things you couldn’t share through ink on sink, such as names and locations; and so the two of you had never really shared information as simple as gender, identification, or even a nickname. Neither of you really initiated any form of talking, mainly communicating through drawings, doodles or odd questions neither knew the answer to.

“You’re worse than San I swear,” He laughed, referencing his older friend who you had met on a few occasions. “And speaking of San,” He turned to you with an eyebrow raised, “Are you going to his party tonight?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“I mean, no, me and Yeosang would drag you there no matter your answer, but I was trying to be polite.”

“Overall, no I do not want to go. His parties are loud and overcrowded for such a small apartment.” You huffed, feeling as though your opinions would not be taken for granted. 

“Yeah but here's the thing “ He gestured as if he had just connected two dots, “maybe dick boy will be there”

“Will you please not call my soulmate dick boy.” You huffed, hiding your face in embarrassment again as the person turned to look at the two of you with a curious glance. 

“Only if you go to the party.”

“That’s not a good bargain.”

“Guess I’ll just call him dick boy from now on and assume anyone with a dick drawn on them is your soulmate!” Jongho announced loudly, but not enough so that your teacher turned away from their whiteboard; however, the rest of your classmates began to giggle. No doubt they had been listening in on your whole entire conversation, maybe even from the beginning itself. 

“Goddammit fine I’ll go to your dumb party just shut up!” You grumbled trying to escape the embarrassment by hiding your head in your arms. 

Jongho never seemed to be embarrassed though, not as he leaned back in his seat with a proud and triumphant smile, “See? That wasn’t so hard. Maybe you’ll meet dick boy tonight.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Love you too,” You looked up to see Jongho blow you an overly flirtatious kiss, “Me and Yeosang will be at your dorm by seven.”

That is how you ended up outside your apartment at six fifty-eight dressed in a nice outfit and a frown on your face. The night was too cold for a party and perfect to stay in your bed, binging a show or catching up on sleep. You couldn’t believe that you actually agreed to the party, at least if Jongho had dragged you from your home without your consent you could be angry about it; but now you could only be annoyed at yourself.

“There’s our little ray of sunshine!” Jongho laughed as he and a stone faced Yeosang got up from their spot on the gate on the sidewalk. The both of them had cleaned up nicely; however, that still didn’t mean that San’s party wouldn’t be a mess. He was notorious for having some of the messiest, loudest, and overall drunkest parties on the entire campus. It was a surprise he hadn’t gotten in trouble yet. 

“I’m not happy about this.”

“Your smile says enough about that,” Yeosang laughed as you began to walk down the street, San’s house, or rather the home they all shared, was only a block or so away. 

You rolled your eyes at Yeosang’s sarcasm, “Hello to you too Yeo.”

“Oh lighten up Y/n,” Jongho wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was already buzzed, “I have a feeling dick boy will be there!”

Yeosang spit on the drink he had been sipping on at the words, “I-what!? Who?”

“My soulmate has friends who likes to draw dicks on his arms.” You scoffed, pulling up the sleeves of your jacket to reveal yet another dick drawing that was in a, thankfully, more discrete place. No doubt your soulmate hadn’t noticed it yet but you couldn’t go out anywhere decent without a jacket now; his friends words from earlier almost made you tempted to wear a ski mask. At least then no one would see the phalics drawn on your skin. “It’s really fucking annoying.”

“That’s goddamn hilarious. I need a pen immediately.” Yeosang began to rummage through his pants pockets while hearty laughter flowed from his lips.

You smacked his moving arms with annoyance written clear across your face, “Dick drawing is my soulmate’s thing! Be a little more creative would you!”

“So you like having dicks drawn on you?”

“I do not-” You groaned in annoyance at the cocky grin on Yeosang’s features, “I hate both of you.”

“Why me!? I didn’t even bring anything up!” Jongho huffed in annoyance and you were almost thankful as you came to a stop in front of San’s house, flashing lights and loud music already emitting from it. 

“You’re the one who gave him that God awful nickname.” You gave both the boys on each side of you a little glare, “Now don’t you dare say anything about dick boy to Mingi or San. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“As long as the nickname sticks, I really don’t give a shit about the rules.” Jongho grinned, grabbing you by the upper arm and pulling you in the direction of the steps. “Now let’s go party!”

The party was exactly what you imagined it being. Loud, overcrowded, and entirely full of drunk college kids. You were even sure they’re were some professors in the mix; seeing as San was cozy with literally everyone on the campus. If he wanted, he could probably even get the administrators to come and dance with him. Instead, for this party, he had to settle for Yunho and Mingi; the three of them dancing their lives away to a bass heavy beat. San was lucky enough to be friends with Bang Chan, the aspiring DJ and producer, who would play parties for a little fee; even smaller for his friends. 

“So any sign of dick boy? Any more genitals drawn on your arms?” The sly voice of Seonghwa said as he came into view, leaning against the counter top that you sat on top of. 

You groaned and clutched the solo cup in your hand a little tighter in annoyance, “Did Jongho tell everyone?”

“Nearly, he’s kept his promise so far not to tell Mingi and San… though given how drunk Yunho is they’ll probably know by the end of the night.” 

“Just fucking fantastic, the last thing I need is Mingi teasing me for all this!” You downed the rest of the contents in your cup, feeling more tired than uplifted by the alcohol. 

“Don’t drink your worries away yet, Yunho hasn’t said shit to them. Besides, I’ve got some tea.” You rolled your eyes at his words as you played with the rim of your cup. 

“Please never use the word tea again.”

“Guess you don’t want to know who your soulmate is than.” The simple sentence brought a panic into your bloodstream. There was no way Seonghwa could know who your soulmate was. There were billions of people in this world, there was no absolute way he could have figured it out; and certainly not from just a simple dick drawing. 

You tried to steady your suddenly ragged breathing, “There's no way… just… don’t play games Seonghwa.”

“I’m not, Y/n, I wouldn’t lie about this,” He huffed, like he couldn’t believe you thought so little of him. “I really think I know who it is.”

You frowned a little more at the words, and even more as your heart began to speed up in pace. Maybe it wasn’t panic, maybe it was more excitement but all of it made you too dizzy and scared to comprehend. This was your soulmate he was talking about, this person that was tied to you forever; you didn’t know if you were even prepared for the speculations about who it would be. “Hwa, I just.. I don’t really want to know who it is.”

His eyes turned sympathetic at your conflicted features, “I won’t tell you directly than… but know he’s in the living room and has blonde hair.”

“Never really saw myself with a blonde.”

“Never really saw you with a dick drawer either, but the universe is surprising.” He chuckled and you gently hit his arm, thankful to him for trying to brighten up your panicking state. 

You gave him a soft pat on his forearm and let out a quiet sigh, “Thank you Seonghwa.”

He grinned at you and patted your hand in reassurance, “No problem-”

“CHANGBIN I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STOP YOU KNOW THIS DOESN’T JUST SHOW UP ON ME!”

The loud shouting came from the living room, where laughter and general uproar was happening. Some of the party goers, you and Seonghwa included, paused their actions to watch a figure with their hood up, obscuring their features, run through the kitchen and down the hall. Even without having seen their face, something within you tugged at your body. Something that told you Seonghwa really hadn’t been lying and that you needed to get off your ass. 

“I wasn’t lying.” Seonghwa said and chuckled even more as you turned around to face him, “The dick on your forehead just proves it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm and your hands went up to cover your forehead. While you couldn’t entirely feel the drawing you knew it was there due to the newfound cold feeling of ink. This only caused the panic in you too intensify. 

“Go get your man, Y/n.” Seonghwa pulled you from your spot on the counter and nudged you in the direction of the hallway, while you still covered your forehead. “At least this way you both don’t have to worry about appearances. If you can look pass the dick on your foreheads you’re golden.”

“Oh my God Seonghwa you are not helping!” you whisper screamed, but your eyes were focused on the hallway. Your soulmate was down there. 

“Just go get him, Y/n. You don’t know if you’ll ever meet him again.” Seonghwa wisely told you and you nodded, trying to steel your shaking body. You hated that he was right, hated that your body moved without your thought until you were right in front of the bathroom door. You couldn’t remember how you got there, it was a blind stumble through the crowd who had resumed their partying antics. 

You pressed your ear to the door, trying to both eavesdrop and calm your nerves. Hopefully whoever was behind the door wasn’t the boy, even if your soul itself wanted it to only be him. The faint cursing from the other side solidfied the fact that it was him, “Fucking Changbin… god dammit I told him not to… why won’t this come off!”

Your hand was on the doorknob in an instance and you took a deep breath as you realized what you were doing. Like Seonghwa said, it was now or never. The door creaked open, the light pouring into the dark hallway, and making the boy glaring at the mirror jump.

“Hey sorry this is occupied-” His heavily accented voice faltered as the two of you made eye contact, or more specifically, your eyes made contact with the dick drawings on each others foreheads. Even if it wasn’t for the drawings you both harbored on your foreheads, the intense feeling of belonging was enough for you too know this was real. 

“So,” you breathed out, after the initial tingling feelings passed over you, “You’re dick boy.”

His face tinted red and he covered his hands with his face, “This is not at all how I wanted to meet my soulmate.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at him, but a smile was making it’s way to your lips. People hadn’t lied about the euphoric feeling rushing into your system at meeting you soulmate. “Do you think I really wanted a dick drawn on my forehead either?”

“I’m so sorry about Changbin, I can’t even apologize enough oh my god I’m so sorry I just-” He took a deep breath and finally managed to pull his head away from his hands, eyes catching on the curve of your lips. “I’m really sorry for all the dick drawings. I would’ve never done that too you… I’ll go make sure all my friends apologize to you and everything.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that flowed from your lips at his rambling. He was rather cute, you had to admit, and just maybe blondes were your type with the way his hair bounced with his every movement. “Let’s just get this one off our foreheads first, okay?”

A smile finally made its way onto his lips and you couldn’t help but be entranced, “That… that’s sounds good.”

You nodded and grabbed one of the towels lying around, noticing the one the boy in front of you had drenched in water discarded in the sink, before lathering yours with soap and water. The boy just watched you work quietly before you turned to him again, the proximity close, and he wished that he didn’t have a dick drawn on his forehead in this picture perfect moment. 

“Your friends really did a good job on this one,” Your voice was quiet as you pushed aside his hair, noticing how red his forehead was from his frantic scrubbing. Still a majority of the drawing still remained, “What the hell did they use.”

“Seungmin made a custom stamp,” he mumbled, staring at your eyes as they focused in on gently scrubbing his forehead, “Semi permanent ink and everything… that’s what they used on me this morning.”

“Well… I’ll give them props for dedication.” You hummed, holding the side of his face with your hand as you worked, missing how his face turned scarlet. “You might want to be a little more careful around your friends.”

“Trust me I tried, they just sneak up on me.” He sighed as you let go off his face, pulling back slightly to examine your work. There was little of the drawing left, nothing no one would notice at first glance. Your eyes trailed down to meet the boys in front of you and you had to stop yourself from gasping at the sparkling of them, and the proximity. “It’s what happened tonight. I was just lying on the couch and then bam… Changbin stamped my forehead.”

“I’ll be sure to give Changbin hell than,” You mumbled still caught up in his features, now transfixed on the lovely freckles dotting his cheeks and nose. The universe had been exceptionally kind to gift you with such a handsome soulmate.

“What’s your name?” His breath fanned against your nose and broke you from your staring.

“Y/n…” You muttered before looking back up at his eyes, not missing the cheeky gleam in them, “and you?”

“Felix.” He grinned down at you and in that moment you truly felt happy, in a way that was wholly unexplainable to any other person. No one who just met should make you fill with joy the way that Felix did, but the universe worked in funny ways. 

“Well,” You started, cupping his cheek in your hand once again as you took in his features. You already knew you would never get tired of them, “I’m glad I have something other to call you than dick boy.”

He laughed, whole and hearty at your response, before taking his own leap of faith and leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re still going to call me that… aren’t you.”

“Oh totally.” You grinned, mentally thanking this Changbin for being so extreme with his dick drawing.

[artificialqueens]

That's so Sharon Needles (Shalaska) - Needles4prez

Summary: Sharon had convinced herself for a while now that Alaska had probably entirely moved on from their past years spent together.

AN: This is a short messy fic I quickly wrote after a pretty rough week. It’s cheesy and fluffy and extremely dumb. My apologies if the writing quality is poor, plenty of wine will do that to ya! I’m working on some more serious multi chapter fics for later, but figured this’ll do for now. <3

Simple 1.8k words

Sharon had convinced herself for a while now that Alaska had probably entirely moved on from their past years spent together. It’d been two months since they’d broken up and stopped talking and Sharon couldn’t prevent the thoughts of Alaska hooking up with other people. It was wrong to be fazed by the idea of someone you love bettering themselves by moving on, Sharon knew that much. And, yet she still dreaded the return to her apartment in Pittsburgh, every single night. Sharon hadn’t moved on. She was however, a good liar. Sharon Needles had the ability to plaster on a confident smile that told the world with ease, that she, simply needed no one to rely on for anything. Maybe it’d be an inspiring message to project to everyone, if it hadn’t been so damn untrue. Parts of Sharon’s life were blessed, she ensured that she never found herself becoming ungrateful for all that her friends and chosen family have done for her. She had secured a strong career for herself, built her life from the ground up, and succeeded in receiving a rewarding paycheck at the end of each month. All was well, to the eye of an outsider. But, no one saw the Sharon who would have outbursts, cursing Alaska’s name as any minor thing goes wrong.

Their apartment was much messier now that Alaska was gone, beer cans were scattered all over the floor’s surface, no longer a pretty blonde there to gladly pick them up after her self-proclaimed PBR Princess. Cooking rarely took place anymore, Sharon stumbling into the poxy home space in the late hours, occasionally able to catch a takeaway place in time. Sure, neither her or Alaska had been fantastic cooks to begin with, but they made it work. It was an enjoyable experience, laughter erupting from the two of them as they regularly managed to burn the bottom of their pan with something as simple as pasta bake. Sharon at most times can feel her mind slipping away, and next thing she knows, she’ll be stood in the centre of her kitchen envisioning Alaska wrapping her arms around her waist, slender arms squeezing with nothing but love. The worst times were always at night, and they only worsened when Sharon had to lay alone in bed, alienated and desperate for her previous lifestyle to somehow snap back into existence. Usually clinging to her cat Cerrone, or sometimes a pillow, in dire need for any form of touch; it constantly felt impossible to adapt to whatever this pitiful routine had become. Though it wasn’t easy, Sharon had for the past two months, avoided her most nearby gay bar like the plague. It would’ve been naive to think that she would manage to not come into contact with Alaska, and Sharon knew it’d hurt with more than she could handle if she did see her. Alaska would blatantly be doing just fine, upbeat and left scarless from the painful break up, while Sharon is cut and resentful. At least, that’s how things had been going before that night. That night at 11 PM where Sharon discarded the half-empty Chinese noodle box on her kitchen counter, assured herself she was better than this - she was Sharon Needles after all, and took out her favourite silk black dress from her closet, changing and throwing on a pair of heeled knee-high boots that flattered her shapely legs. A few years after being with Alaska, Sharon had admittedly started to eat much better and regularly than before, the tiniest sight of podge seeping above the tight fit of her undergarments. She was tired of weeping each night with no one by her side, tired of being terrified of the mere thought of bumping into Alaska at the bar they both loved so dearly, tired of pretending that she’s okay without the tall girl who had been her companion for almost 3 years now. It was ridiculous, maybe even pathetic. Sharon Needles had been fooling herself for two whole months now, and for what? If any time was her time, it was now. It was likely the alcohol that’d built up this steep hill of courage, and it worked for her. So, proudly, she slipped essentials into her purse, and exited her apartment complex, headed for the Blue Moon. The cold weather lingering on the streets brought a small chill to Sharon’s exposed skin, goosebumps rising and tickling the back of her neck, trailing its way down past her shoulders, and to the very bottom of her arms. She should’ve worn her leather jacket, but she knew if she spent any more time in her apartment, that this sudden rush of pride and bravery, would soon slowly fade. She brushed off the sensation, caressing her arms softly and swinging her long black hair over her shoulders and quickening her pace with determination. “Ouch, watch where you’re going for fucks sake!” A voice hisses, the sounds of whines and whimpers following behind. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Sharon quickly recovers from her collision with the other lady, holding out a hand apologetically for the girl who’s ass is currently on the sidewalk. The stranger reaches for the hand, and only as her head tilts up to connect her eyes with the clumsy person in front her, does it become clear to Sharon that it’s Alaska who’d toppled over. They stay silent for a moment as Alaska’s petite self gets heaved up, and Sharon can’t help but flush crimson at the awkward encounter. Prior to this, Sharon had rehearsed manys ways that the two would reunite, but this - was certainly not one of those ways. The blonde was repping a hot pink lipstick topped with a gloss, smokey eyeshadow, an obnoxious red bow the colour of Sharon’s cheeks tied into her tall ponytail, a tight red cocktail dress that fit her slender body perfectly; fabric clinging to her slim figure, hugging her long thin legs which made their existence known with thanks to the absence in length of the dress. Sharon tried not to stare too hard, but the way she had wiggled her body to get back on her feet caused the skirt of her dress to hitch up even higher. “I miss you, Alaska.” Sharon had never been one to beat around the bush, the intensity of her bluntness normally too much for people to know how to work with. It wasn’t always quite this bad, however. “How many beers?” It wasn’t an angry response, infact, the words were hushed like a whisper. Alaska was the only person who truly knew Sharon beneath the surface, the only person who had seen her vulnerable side, the self-doubt, the lack of confidence. She wasn’t stupid, this boldness stemmed from someplace else than just her natural mindset. “Two,” Sharon wanted to deny having had any, but knew better. She shoved her hand into her purse and rumadged it around blindly in search for a cigarette, or maybe a vape, or maybe a beer - any vice that would help in coping with whatever the fuck this was. A pack of cigarettes were closest to her grasp, so she settled for one and slipped it between her lips, bringing her lighter up and letting out a curse of aggravation under her breath as it stubbornly fails on her a couple times. Alaska snatched the lighter out from her hand, lazily pushing it back into Sharon’s purse with one hand, and stealing the cigarette with the other. This time, she places it between her own lips, holding in a cackle at the sight of Sharon who’s smiling smugly at her as she lights the cigarette with her much more trustworthy lighter, exhaling the smoke and blowing it over to Sharon’s face. “Why wait so long if you missed me that much?” Alaska huffs childishy, raising an eyebrow questioningly, and also, a little teasingly. Alaska had been impatiently waiting like a Princess in a tower for Sharon to cave into the pain of the quiet two months, admittedly experiencing aches in the pit of her belly as time continued to pass and concern began threatening her. “Oh, wait, did I say, I missed you? I was talking about Cerrone, he missed you.” She received an audible groan and a pair of rolling eyes for that one. Alaska purposely breathed out more smoke in Sharon’s direction and her lips suddenly curled up into a knowing smirk, one that Sharon had been all-too familiar with. “I have a boyfriend, anyways…” She trailed off, head tilted in favour to her left with two fingers now pressing on Sharon’s bottom lip. Sharon instinctively parted her lips and adjusted her head to take both the fingers in her mouth, sucking long and frustratingly slow; provoking a small gasp from the content blonde. Alaska snappily dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with her pink heel, quickly returning back to Sharon who’s in a state of complete awe, dragging her fingers out of her mouth and down to Sharon’s chin, ensuring a stripe of dark lipstick marks the journey. “Even if that were true, you know you’ll always be mine.” Alaska shrugged but never denied it. Sharon, getting impatient, grabbed Alaska’s head and pulled her in for a passionate and heated kiss. Alaska’s arms snaked around Sharon’s neck and forcefully brought them closer till their chests slammed together in a motion on the verge of hurting. Sharon’s hands crept down to Alaska’s ass and she groped it, squeezing tightly at the sensation of Alaska’s tongue slipping into her mouth. Sharon could taste the smoke on Alaska’s tongue as it sloppily grazed along Sharon’s teeth and licked a stripe along the roof of her mouth before diving down to tangle their tongues together in an intertwining mess. The actions continued and repeated themselves for a while, until the two collectively pulled back panting and both in search for air. “I love you Alaska,” Sharon’s breathing was still a little unsteady, and her usually haunting tone was trembling as though she were a teenager all over again.  

“I love you too, Noodles.” Sharon bent herself down to be around level with Alaska's stomach, her arms holding securely around the tiny waist of the the tall girl, lifting her up and swinging her body over her shoulder. Alaska is pulled into a fit of girlish giggles as her head dangles about only able to see Sharon’s back, excitedly kicking her legs about while Sharon begins to retrace her steps from earlier and return back to their apartment. “Cerrone’s gonna be ecstatic to have his other mom back.” They both chuckle like little kids and Sharon feels at home again. Truthfully, she couldn’t recall the exact reason for their breakup in the first place, it was likely a petty drunken fight that only resulted in a breakup because neither wanted to apologise first. Within the time frame of almost three years, it hadn’t been the first time a messy breakup had occurred.

“Hey, you know, this kinda felt like the other night when I was carrying that corpse back to my place.”

“That’s so you, Sharon Needles.”

*

Sharon awoke to the blaring sound of her phone’s alarm. She reached her arm over to her bedside table to shut it off, and when she settled back into bed she sprawled her legs out, expectant to feel the warmth of her lover. Instead, her comfort dissolved at the sensation of; nothing. She was still alone, the exact same as every other night before. It had been pure fantasy. She clutched onto her sheets and shoved her face into the stack of pillows all piled on her side of the bed, crying angrily at herself. Moments had been bad, but this was evil.

[carriagelamp]

April 2020 Book Review - Quarantine Brain Fry Edition

This month of quarantine was much more challenging for me that last March... I suppose because we’re really in the throws of it, and the “extended spring break” feel has worn off. Between general World Anxieties and the incredible challenges of trying to adapt my work into an online setting, my brain has been absolute mush -- and I have a feeling I’m not the only one. Most of my books this month are either very easy reads (comics and children’s novels) or rereads or both! Honestly, I’ve been playing a lot more Animal Crossing than I have been reading...

So the theme for this month of reading? Treat your brain to a rest, and go reread that favourite comic or picture book or graphic novel from when you were a kid. We don’t have libraries or book stores at the moment, so dig deep into your shelf for something you love that you haven’t touched in a while. Here’s what I read:

Ghost Hunters Adventure Club and the Mystery of the Grande Chateau

I’m going to start with best and most unexpected book that I read this month (although this is actually a New Book and not a reread, so maybe it’s a bad start). It’s a Hardy Boys parody novel, and yes it’s by the Game Grumps. The only reason I even found out it existed was because my brother heard about it and we decided that this would be our next Sibling Read Aloud. It made a great read aloud. I was rather skeptical at first, but it was genuinely very clever and very, very funny. There characters were fucking delightful, as they bumbled their way through the mystery, and we ended up accidentally reading almost half the book in one sitting because we couldn’t put it down once we got to endgame. If you like satire and Classic Youth Mystery then do yourself a favour and give this a go. I am desperate for a sequel.

ISHI: Simple Tips from a Solid Friend

A picture book that was recommended to some of the local elementary children who are dealing with isolation from school and their friends. Its beauty is in its simplicity. It shows Ishi, a very simple white stone, experience challenges that it must then find ways to cope with. Things like loneliness, feeling empty or scared, being sad... all things children (and adults, I very much appreciated this little story) may be experiencing. This is definitely a picture book, not a self-help book, but it’s still very encouraging and makes me want to go and create my own Ishi. There’s a reading of it is online, and if you’re feeling like having a solid stone friend reassure you, I would recommend going to listen to it!

Bone 1-5

So, the first in my long list of books that I reread: I’ve started rereading the Bone series for the first time in years. Hands down one of my all time favourite graphic novel series. If you haven’t read Bone, it’s a classic and one of the best example of American graphic novels imho. It’s about Fone Bone and his cousins who, after being driven out of Boneville by Phoney Bone’s money-grubbling stunts, have found themselves across a desert and in a strange, fantastical valley where nothing makes sense. The three of them get drawn into the strange mysteries and adventures of Thorn, her grandmother, and the village of Barrelhaven. Such a perfect blend of beautiful art, comedy and off-the-wall cartoon-level hijinks, as well as really intense, dark adventure and tension as the story unfolds.

Also created this sequence, which may be the funniest two panels ever drawn in a comic

Here Is Greenwood v1

A charming ‘90s manga from my stash that I decided to reread. Honestly one of my favourite feel-good mangas, because it’s such a simple, pure, good-hearted slice of life without some of the gimmicks that other manga use. It’s about Kazuya starting at an all-boys school partway into the year, and moving into the school’s dorms. The entire book is just about him being constantly pestered by the well-meaning characters that share the dorm with him. It’s just goofy and fun, and has the fantastic aesthetic of a good ‘90s manga. Also, it was one of those books that, while technically not ~queer~ was also ~queer enough~ for my deprived teenage soul.

Blood Of Elves

The fourth book of the Witcher series that I’ve finished. I’ll be honest, not my favourite. I really enjoyed the beginning, the whole espionage thing with Dandelion, and then Ciri with Geralt, the Kaer Morhen witchers, and Triss. That was all really fun. It felt like it dragged a lot more though after Ciri joined Yennefer... And yet I love Yennefer as a character, she is hilariously snide and clever and really sweet with Ciri. But it felt like a scene that could have been done in a couple chapters took up half the book. Maybe that’s just because, as I said, my brain was mush and I couldn’t deal with it. I have the next book and as soon as my brain doesn’t look like chicken noodle soup anymore I will be starting it!

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You know I love a good animal adventure story, and this is one that I adored as a child. The story of Ralph, a young mouse living with his family in a rundown motel, and how he and a young human boy discover that they can understand each other through a shared passion for vehicles... in particular a red toy motorcycle. There’s just something heartwarming about Ralph racing around a motel on a tiny toy motorcycle that runs when he makes motorcycles noises. I’ll have to find the second one as soon as libraries are open again.

Kit: The Adventures of a Raccoon

Another animal adventure story from my childhood, although this one is more of a chapter book than a true novel. This is a book that I’ve been lowkey hunting for years and finally came across in a school library. It’s a more realistic look at what a raccoon’s life is like, from birth to adulthood. Rereading it, it’s not a particularly exciting book and wouldn’t have otherwise stood out to me, but there’s still something that calls to me. It’s very gentle and makes this raccoon’s growing and learning feel very soft and compassionate, even if there are tragedies and death.

A quick edit because it was only just now that I realized that this is a Canadian lit book! Always exciting to discover that a favourite is Canadian!

Calvin and Hobbes: Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat

Calvin and Hobbes, yet one more bullet to add to the list of Comfort Comics that I’ve pulled out to keep my mind entertained while I can’t quite process Proper Novels. I doubt there’s anything I can say about Calvin and Hobbes that hasn’t already been said. You’ve either read these books already, and are nodding along with  me, or you haven’t and therefore are not a human being I can relate to.

Spy vs Spy

I dug out some of the old Spy vs Spy comics we had as kids. They’re basically falling to pieces, but it was fun -- like so many other books on this list -- to revisit something so familiar but which I haven’t looked at in years. These were a very odd experience to reread, because on one hand Spy vs Spy comics have such a simple, goofy premise it’s hard not to just grin and laugh while you read them, but also like... yup they sure are old and kinda ~problematique~ eh? Whatcha gonna do.

The Twisted Ones

The read aloud my brother and I did before Ghost Hunters, although we technically finished reading it at the very end of March, but too late for it to make that book roundup post. Look, I’m not going to defend myself here. Yes, I’ve read an obscene number of Five Nights at Freddy’s books. The first one of this series The Silver Eyes was honestly better than I would have expected. This sequel was not as good, unsurprisingly, but the main character is still so fucking bizarre, so different than the sort of protagonist I would normally expect from a series like this, that I can’t quite bring myself to stop reading them. And when I had a moment of Realization, about what might be in store for the third book, I genuinely screamed at my brother who was reading at the time. So yes. Somehow this youth horror is better than it has any right to be -- not good but better than it should be -- and yes I will be reading the third the second the libraries open again.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

Another reread! This was a book I got as a birthday present when I was in... probably preschool? It’s a cross between a large picture book and a chapter book. It’s essentially a “novelization” of the original Disney movie, and it has such cute art to go along with it. Winnie the Pooh has always been a favourite of mine, and reading this old book was like a warm hug. Makes me want to see if I can get my VCR set up so I can watch that old movie again...

Frog and Toad Together

A friend found someone reading this book in a very asmr-style on youtube and recommended I listen because they found it super chill. And they were right! It is ridiculously chill. I’ve never read a Frog and Toad story before, but it’s really just a very cute old book that immediately launches you right back into grade one.

The BFG

This is my first time reading the BFG and it has all of Dahl’s usual charm and quirkiness. A young girl gets plucked out of an abusive orphanage by the Big Friendly Giant, who brings her to the terrifying Land Of Giants... all of which are bigger and crueller than the BFG, and who have an appetite for human flesh. It was quick and fun, and it’s always hard not to fall in love with Dahl’s sweet characters, especially this big eared, dream-catching giant.

[lil-miss-methodical]

On My Block Season 2 threw down the metaphorical artistic gauntlet & there ain’t a Squad gully enough to pick it up. 

I hope people who've seen season one and now season two realize that what's taken place before their eyes is called elevation. This is how an ongoing show is supposed to handle things. Season one laid down a foundation for its audience and season two did not make the silly mistake of disregarding that foundation but instead pulled that bitch from under the audience’s feet to give us that freefall feeling and then used it to cushion our fall - reminding exactly why we loved it. it had me hyped, made me laugh, made me cry - often all in the same episode. Things that I thought were gonna happen didn’t happen how I thought they were gonna happen and that's how they kept me perched, on edge, interested even through sleep deprivation.

These were the same characters I’d grown to love in season one. Despite the hardship, despite the bullshit they returned to us the characters whom we’d grown to know and love and unveiled them just a bit more. When jamal rolled in money - I felt as though i was rolling in the dough. When Monse was telling Cesar what to do I was nodding along as though she was me, as though her opinions were mine. When Jasmin spoke I listened for a lesson was being given. When Cesar or Ruby cried - we all cried.

The musical scale out did the last and I didn’t even know that was possible. from the very first song they used to open the show and place all of us in our feelings - to the return of the track that left such a huge mark last season. They music not only to alter how we feel moment to moment, but to make authentic the era, style and culture the show is marked upon.

The Breakdown:

This season is broken down into two variables - solo hero's journey & and overarching theme.  The former can be elements as such: 

- Ruby's battle with PTSD

- Monse's battle of solidifying her feet instead of running

- Jamal's fight to be shine, be seen, be respected (and that has as much to do with audience as with Squad)

- Cesar's unsettled feeling of being alone (although he and we really learn how much he has)

- Jasmin staking her claim to her position

With season one ending in a death of a loved on and a wound of his own - we find Ruby healing. At first he's in a state of denial...This is a reality many black and brown people find themselves suck in, not about the mishap no, but about the trauma that comes with it. Like Ruby, we disassociate. We go with a 'it's life, bad shit happens, yet I'm alive and I should see the blessing in that and keep pushing forward' mentality that does not allow us to first dissect that trauma and journey through that pain as we should. The show acknowledges that damage and thus we end up having seemingly unlikely people help Ruby he's not only on a journey but deserves to allow himself to take that path to real recovery. Jason Genao did such a wonderful job - from the simplicity of wanting to unwind with some spontaneous party organizing to the quick emotional windup that taunts when something reminds you of your trauma.

Monse is the character I relate to the most because I see myself in the nature of her traits while also being able to identify with her internal struggle. Being abandoned put puts a complex within an individual that most people cannot understand - def it's that first abandonment is by a parent who we're taught is supposed to love, protect and be there for us. People who are abandoned can either gain traits of being clingy or having issues forming a bond or leaving. Monse of course like most has a duality of this. The bond is important to her and she'll do anything to maintain it but on the other hand she has a sense to leave when stuff it too uncomfortable. We see this several time in this season alone. But the real lesson for Monse is not a reprehend on her fears or traits but reality of being loved and accepted. No matter what you do, where you go, you love us and we love you and we'll be waiting when you get back.

Jamal is that character doesn't get the respect he deserves - that in story and from the audience that watches the show. The show took this in hand this season. As Jamal never ceased to remind the squad of his work on their behalf he steepled his worth asl and the actor that plays him, Brett Gray, yet again flexed his comedic chops for the masses yet again. I think Jamal doesn't understand how iconic he is, how amazing he is for those in story and out. He's coming off of that high of being on the heels of an adventure.

Jasmin also got shine this season. They humanize her without changing her, dimming her light or having her apologize for who she is as women have to do when the world feels they're too boisterous, too loud in tone, look and voice. She loved herself enough to remain true to herself and those who took the time out to see who that was, got to love her. Like all the characters she was opinionated, and even when the whole crew don't realize it she has something to add to the squad - thus what allows her to be the honorary member of the team. Also Jessica Garcia is another comedic genius in the element.

Cesar went from being in the hard place of his brother's gang to being in what seemed like an impossible place of no gang and seemingly no protection. Exiled from the Santos he's literally homeless and isolated from his last remaining relative. He find himself shipping from one one home to the next, exhausted with having to adapt to different family cultures. This was interesting because as they show we are ironically who we are in part do to our family living styles at home. There were a lot of jokes about Cesar's one color tanks and knee high shorts but when he starts surfing from house to house you get to see this 'culture' of how these people lived from an outsiders perspective - the man chilling vibe he received with Monse's dad. The rushed, lively, full feeling of Ruby's home that at first felt crowded to him. The eccentric way Jamal ran his bedroom. Even the weirdness of Chivo and his 'family'. While these aspects of these difference threw him of kilter at first he learned to appreciate and truly love each and everyone for those same difference. He learned the art of gratitude because people tend to treat their homes as their safe places - not just for heir forms but their identities. We can be exact who we are in the face of our homes. As he thought he had nothing, those around him that loved him welcomed him into their safe space - despite the physical danger. This bonded his relationship with these people even more because there's a difference in saying we're family and you showing that I'm your family. And yes it was beautiful to see them credit the two black men of the parenthood for taking this kids life seriously and holding court for him. It was beautiful watching him come to love and appreciate Jamal and understand the wealth that comes with this friendship and making a strong brotherhood (def considering the war of gangs between brown and black men).

Every character must thread their given path to meet in a middle of shorts with everyone else. And noticed I didn't say they must complete the journey - travel it alone. We get the the end satisfied but still with the knowledge that the work is yet to be done. Ruby's PTSD and pain did not magically dissolve. Monse's abandonment issues didn't evaporate into nothingness. Jamal may have sculpt his worthiness yet the anxiety of 'what's next' still snipes at him. Cesar may have learned to appreciate what he does have but lost in the aspect of independence and what that means in the face of those around him that he loves and how to make that not mean being alone. Jasmin may have Ruby and us kneeling at her feet learning the error of our ways but she still got 3 other members to break.

It is these individual journeys that push the narrative forward, that reveals the overarching theme so to speak. Without these journeys there's nothing to carry the overarching theme. This is what I call great writing because it forces the threads to connect but still allows all individual characters to have their own position in the story that equals out.

The Revelation of a Theme:

Everything about this season was about family. When we watched Spooky, Mario, and Jasmin help guide Ruby through his symptoms of PTSD and trauma, what we were witnessing was family at work. When Cesar, Jamal, and Ruby laughed while rolling their eyes in disbelief of Monse's leaving for good speech - thats was love. When they tell her you'll be back and we'll be here...that was the understanding of family. When we see those around Jamal grow to see his worth by working to this appreciation its an aspect of a real family’s effort. The sacrifice, and support that came both for and from Cesar was hella representation of family. Jasmin’s whole storyline is the representation of new family.

This season didn't truffle with pointlessness. They didn't find conflict by creating false hate between the characters. They didn't drag this aspect of 'let's blame Cesar' or have that be an easy tension between him and Ruby. As a matter of fact their bond was deepened. Ruby had no hate in his heart for Cesar, instead he embraced his brother in the street and they cried, for themselves and each other.

This whole season was about being willing to sacrifice, being willing to be selfless for those you love. Everyone allowing Cesar to live with them, Jamal allowing it to be 'our' money, Monse's dad not trying to force her to stay away from her mom despite his feelings where Julia was concerned, them risking it to clean the money, Jamal giving up the gnome. Their rush to burn the money when they thought it would put someone else life in danger.

It was this concept of sacrifice and selflessness that sends Cesar after Latrelle in hopes of freeing his friends when Ruby comes to him distraught.

Cesar on most scopes is not a killer. As he told his brother he's not cut from the cloth of gang life. We see him called pussy for not being about that life. For not being able to end a life over turf wars, money, or Ill-intent words thrown his way. But as everyone had to show what they were willing to do for the concept of family - so too did Cesar. Good or bad - we saw what Cesar would be willing to pull the trigger for.

They all loved eachother, with that love came a protection and a fight to rival any and all that didn't have good intentions. This season was love. It was family, sacrifice, acceptance, respect. Ruby was willing to heal for it, Monse willing to stay for it, Jamal willing to fight for it, Jasmin is willing to be patient for it, Cesar was willing to kill for it. OMB is about this diverse mix of kids who have this bond that they've learned to nurture. It's speak on who they're allowed to be because it and how far they're willing to go to keep it.

In my last review my byline was "On my block, squad means family" and this season has proven that for this crew,  squad still and always will mean Familia.

How do you define family and how do you allow it to define you?

Other post/aspects to be on the look out for:

Mario/Ruby vs Spooky/Cesar Cesar X Monse - The breakdown Monse Family -The genius Jamal/Jasmin Jasmin/Ruby

Don’t forget to follow me for future post and reviews!

[keichanz]

Oscurità, amore mio | II

I found my new title!

Previously known as Dalle Ceneri, this story is now titled Oscurità, amore mio which means “Darkness, my love” in Italian. Sooooo many hugs and thanks goes out to my dearest friend and inspiration @sssuperbartola! She’s been immensely helpful with writing this story and I couldn’t do it without her, or @sesshsbae! Thanks you two! <3

Read on AO3.

Dark eyes wide with a something akin to warried shock, Kagome took in the figure standing before her in all his muscled glory, his eyes the color of burnished amber, skin lightly tanned, and his mouth stretched into a wicked grin that did indeed reveal fangs, however they were smaller and definitely not that of the bloodsucker variety.

Kagome opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You’re not—”

“Nope,” he said, crossing his arms.

“But you can—”

“Yep.”

She shook her head, utterly confused and yet at the same time—

No. No, she was just confused. She was not impressed. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.  

“I don’t under—h-how—”

He sighed, as if deeply troubled, though from what Kagome was getting from his emotional grid, he was more amused than anything. The bastard. “That’s a bit of along story, I’m afraid,” he confessed and then glanced somewhere behind her before cocking a brow. “One, by the looks of it, that you don’t really have the time for.”

She frowned at him and turned around to follow his gaze. “What—son of a bitch!”

Trying and failing to blend in with the gyrating and swaying bodies on the dance floor, the vampire her boss had sent her to eliminate was attempting to make his getaway. If Kagome hadn’t been absolutely certain he was her target, the intense panic that slammed into her when he caught her staring at him instantly gave him away and after that he abandoned all pretenses of stealth and made a mad dash for the exit, shoving humans out of his way and ignoring the indignant shrieks of protest.

Forgetting about the white-haired vampire-but-not, Kagome immediately took off after him, managing to slip between the sea of people more effectively than he had and was out the door in record time. The cold air made her skin pebble but she ignored it as she hiked up her leather skirt and retrieved her Sig, double palming it as she edged along the wall of the pub and peered into the dark alley beside it.

She didn’t see anything, but that meant nothing. Vampires were adapt that concealing their presence, but Kagome knew what to look for, dark eyes skittering around and searching for signs of his hasty escape, mentally reaching out and attempting to glean his location from the faint trail of panic she could still sense.

Cautiously she stepped into the dark ally and inched further down the narrow strip of pavement, taking note of the trash cans, a dumpster and various boxes lined up along the parallel walls of the buildings. The sliver of moonlight helped her see, but it was still dark enough where she had to squint to make out the shape leaning against the dumpster. She kept her gun pointed at it as she stepped closer, but huffed in irritation when it turned out to be a pile of garbage bags.

Scowling, the dark-haired assassin lowered her weapon and thrust a hand through her hair in frustration, cocking a hip and chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. She knew he wouldn’t have gone very far; she had extensive and accurate knowledge that this particular bloodsucker got his meals in pubs such as the one she just left, and it was the only one open around here for miles. She was positive he would be back; underlying the panic she’d felt as he’d fled had been a gnawing hunger that had been ignored for one day too long and he was weaker than usual as a result, so traveling very far in his condition was unlikely. Right now he was most likely biding his time and waiting until she gave up the chase before returning.

She inwardly snorted. Yeah, fat chance. She’d waited a whole month once before taking down her target; a few hours were nothing.

Grumbling in annoyance, but knowing there wasn’t much she could do at the moment, Kagome holstered her Sig, turned around—and jumped.

“Jesus—what the fuck!”

A fang-bearing grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere, mia bella fenice.”

Ignoring that rather egotistical remark, Kagome’s lips tightened as her hand flew to her left hip. “You have no right,” she hissed and had the fleeting thought to go for her gun, but immediately dismissed it. He was far too close and ten times faster than she; he’d be on her before she could even draw it.

“You gave me the right when you purposely attracted me with that god-awful travesty of a song,” he returned smoothly, giving a careless shrug and Kagome wanted to punch him because she couldn’t even refute that. “I’m certain Tallon rooted around in there as well and found more than he bargained for, which explains his hasty retreat.”

“Tallon?”

He stared at her. “Your target?”

Kagome balked. “You know him?”

He gave another careless shrug. “No, but I’ve seen him around. He frequents this pub.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Only someone who also frequents a pub would say that.”

“I like their breadsticks,” he said blandly by way of explanation, his expression blank.

A vampire that liked breadsticks. Oh good lord she should’ve had a drink when she had the chance.

“I’m not a vampire,” he casually reminded her but Kagome didn’t believe it. Vamps were the only creatures that had the ability to mind read.

Crossing her arms, Kagome quirked a brow at him and asked, voice heavy with skepticism, “Really. Then what are you?”

He smiled at her, catching her off guard and she resisted the urge to inch away. The smile was pleasant enough, but there was an underlying hint that said danger and it made her uneasy.

“I already told you, bella fenice,” he said and his golden eyes grew hooded even as he continued to smile at her. “It’s a long story.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped, eyes the color of dark chocolate glaring at him with a veiled fire that threatened to burn him to the bone if he continued to provoke her.

He tilted his head, all innocence, and Kagome barely kept herself from snorting. Vampires were anything but innocent. “It suits you,” he said, racking his gaze down her body and she shuddered despite herself. His grin told her he’d noticed. “You are fiery. Passionate. I felt that a name like ‘phoenix’ would be quite flattering. You don’t like it?”

Kagome glared at him and felt her cheeks heat despite herself.

His grin widened. “Would you prefer something else? Perhaps piccolo gattina? Dolce angelo? Or maybe something more along the lines of bella bonazza.”

She had no idea what that last one meant, but it didn’t matter because going by the way those molten eyes crinkled at the corners and the deep chuckle that reverberated in his chest, it wasn’t an improvement. With every ridiculous name he rattled off Kagome’s jaw clenched even tighter and her hand suddenly itched, wanting to feel the reassuring steel of her gun against her palm while she popped a few silver bullets into the fucker’s forehead.

When still she didn’t answer him, he raised his eyebrows and the smile he gave her that time was downright lethal. “No? Then how about—”

She snapped and spat harshly without thinking, “Kagome! My name is Kagome, you goddamn—”

Kagome froze and the color abruptly drained from her face as her eyes went very large. Her heart beat erratically in her chest as the sense of what she’d just inadvertently done came crashing down upon her and she stumbled backwards as if the realization was an invisible force. Horror and dread roiled through her so strongly she felt sick and she swallowed compulsively as bile rose in her throat, her stomach rolling uncomfortably, her blood turning to ice in her veins, leeching the warmth from her skin and causing her to shiver almost uncontrollably.

The coldness she felt, however, was nothing compared to the deadly chilling smile he gave her then that was at complete odds with the searing heat in those molten amber eyes.

“Ka-go-me,” he purred, sealing her fate, and then he moved so fast Kagome didn’t even register it until her head was suddenly yanked back and two sharp points pressed against the soft flesh where her jaw met her neck. She jerked, but the steel arm around her waist prevented her from escaping and she bit down hard on her lip to stifle the whimper when a hot tongue lashed against her skin.

“You—you tricked me,” she gasped breathlessly, pushing against his chest, hating how her traitorous body reacted to his closeness. Gone now was the previous chill that had blanketed her body after she’d made her foolish mistake and in its place was a raging heat that roared through her with the intensity of a thunderstorm. Her nipples tightened, her muscles clenched in need, and warmth pooled between her legs—all instinctive reactions because she’d foolishly forgotten herself in her anger and irrevocably bound them together tighter than any contract ever could.

All because she’d willingly given a vampire her name and everyone knew that to do so was as good as signing your own death warrant because your life was no longer your own.

“No, mia bella fenice,” he growled against her neck and he heard her breath hitch in her throat. “I didn’t. You gave me your name willingly, and now...” He dragged his fangs along the slender column of her throat, brushing his lips against her thundering pulse and pressing a tender, whisper-soft kiss against the wildly fluttering skin.

Then his grip tightened, a savage growl erupted from his throat, and he snarled, “Now, Kagome, you’re mine.”

He struck and Kagome screamed.

*cackles gleefully* God this is so fun.

Piccolo gattina - little kitten Dolce angelo - sweet angel Bella bonazza - loosely translated “hot stuff.”

Originally I wanted Inuyasha to call her “sugar lips hot tits” but there’s really nothing that translates to those direct words lmao 

I | II | III

[nedcanquen]

Le Loupgarou - Chapter 4 - Home/Journey

I’m still insisting on finishing this one!

Tags: Werewolf AU, supernatural, Historical AU.

Pairings: NedCan

Image from Pexels

Names: Christian - Luxembourg Odd - Norway

It’s no longer home.

After Daan had walked out into the storm into certain death, Matthieu had raged. First came the denial - it hadn’t happened, or clearly, the other man must have lied to get Matthieu to stop him from trying to save him. After a while, Matthieu had to face the truth: the confession had simply felt too real. Desperate but real.

Then the fury came - roaring against the man who had taken his food and space, and squirmed into his heart, but more than that, it roared against Matthieu himself. Matthieu had saved the man’s life, had decided to share a part of himself on his own. Why was Matthieu always so stupid?

When the fury finally abated, all that remained was a hollow emptiness, and shame. Matthieu had chosen to save a man because it was the right thing to do. Whatever “right” meant anymore in this world. Maybe he truly was stupid, maybe doing the “right” thing was the path to death and pain and nothing else now. Still, Matthieu had long ago decided that he would rather hide from the world than be forced to do things he did not wish to, in order to survive. Here, he learned that doing right or wrong barely mattered - he helped someone, and this was what he had earned.

Matthieu didn’t know how much time had passed that night before he eventually tried to follow after the creature - not for concern but out of anger. He wanted to do the exact thing that it seemed desperate for him not to do. Even though the loupgarou had made a futile attempt to block his door, it wasn’t difficult for Matthieu to open it. But it wasn’t the door or the feeble attempt at stopping Matthieu that actually stopped him. It was nature itself.

White upon white, the wind howled with the same rage that howled through Matthieu’s own heart. He wanted to scream into it but he couldn’t. Spit would freeze before hitting the ground at these temperatures - no sky, no ground. Could he die if we ventured out on some mad quest for vengeance? Absolutely. A great part of him was tempted - cold numbs everything. Before the end Matthieu would finally be numb to all pain, he would no longer feel his flesh protesting his folly, he would no longer feel the tear deep within his heart, the heavy weariness in his eyes, or the pounding in his head.

Ultimately it’s the same fury that saves him. If he’s going to die, it’s not going to be for that thing. Matthieu has done his part. If it dies, it dies. If it...he…no...Leve...oh God.

Matthieu throws his door shut in rage and helplessness and screams. He screams and keeps screaming until there’s no voice left. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t keep feeling, he doesn’t want to be this raw, he has to...he…

There. Matthieu crawls over to his chosen supply chest and pulls out the old bottle of rum - a curiosity purchase he had traded a pelt for a few years back. Usually he only drinks it to help numb the pain after stitching up a particularly painful wound, but tonight is different. Matthieu tosses the bottle back and gulps it down like water after a scorching day. He lets the fire burn through him - through the back of his throat, settling in his belly, but most importantly, it burns through his mind, banishing feelings he wishes were never there to begin with.

Matthieu does eventually try to look for him. After the hangover, after doing all the practical things he can think of doing, by the third day he can stand it no more. Even though it’s going to be useless, Matthieu sets out to find...something, anything. Some hint of a body, or fight or…

“There are many things that can survive a storm like this.”

Matthieu shakes off the chilling hope at the memory of those words and walks.

He loses count of the days that he searches to no avail. He’s also lucky that he’s stored extra with the expectation of needing to feed and house an extra person, but eventually that also runs out. He had even brought along the creature’s hand-drawn map from the many papers he had left behind - Matthieu hates it, but the Loupgarou had mapped the surrounding terrain with incredible detail and it would have been foolish to leave such a useful tool behind.

Purposefully or not, as the weather warms, Matthieu travels farther and farther from his little cabin, setting up traps, gathering food and other needed materials, hunting when he needs to, and sleeping under the temporary shelters he builds from the branches he finds. When he has time, he expands the map as best he can. It’s not as accurate as the Loupgarou’s but it fulfills its purpose.

When the snows have completely melted, he backtracks, circling the cabin from afar and closes in. There’s no body to be found but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Months have passed, the werewolf could have been dragged away or eaten by other hungry animals or humans even, scavenging in the winter. He could have…

Matthieu sighs and looks down at his feet in front of the door. The snows have melted, green has started to show itself in the fresh beginnings of spring, but Matthieu still feels the emptiness of winter howling within him. He looks at the cabin, once the only home he chose, but now it’s just dried wood and something he can’t recognize. Matthieu looks around him and it’s already painful. He feels the absence of Leverett where the wood stacks are piled, all around this now neglected little haven he once had. Now he knows that if he walks inside the ache will be worse, that he’s been avoiding coming back because that means he will have to face reality, no matter how irrational -

It’s no longer a home.

And he knows, he knows that that man (he can’t say his name anymore) that man deserves his curse, deserves his fate. Matthieu thought he had taken in a man in need of help, he was wrong. He had taken in a wendigo into his home, into his-

Not anymore.

Matthieu stands, he doesn’t even open the door, he can’t. He turns, and goes where the wind takes him.

---

Six years later

The full-time wandering lifestyle suits Matthieu. Before (before), as a part-time coureur des bois , he did caught enough to get what he needed to hide and retreat to his cabin for periods of time. Now he has developed a comfort of sleeping anywhere - in the woods, on his canoe, a floor, an inn, it did not matter - Matthieu finds rest in his wandering. It is harder to be an independent coureur these days, regulations were turning most into owned employees of fur trading companies - voyageours . Matthieu did not feel like being owned. He could handle independent contracts between two people, or even small groups, but if he were going to sign himself away, he would have stayed with the Jesuits.

New France was changing once again. Once he would have cared, once that change would have terrified him. Now Matthieu has grown numb. Life is change, New France is simply some idea that the Europeans had come up with, the land had already been here before it was renamed. Tomorrow who knows? They may change the name again.

People changed. The idea of a new name is no longer so significant to Matthieu, people live short lives and they are meant to change. He now knows many people who have had more than one name in their lifetime. Ironically, his own name never changed, but he had.

Matthieu inhales deeply from the pipe again, letting the sweet flavor rush into him before breathing it out. “This is the best tobacco I have smoked in a long time!”

The man sitting across from him smiles just like he does - like his mother did, and her older sister did. Maybe Matthieu is imagining it, but he’s hoping he isn’t. Some things, time cannot change. The Haudenossaunee may have taken his cousin and given him a new name, as was the post-war custom (at least, Matthieu is pretty sure that this Mohawk warrior/trader called Odeserundiye is his cousin), this is the same boy who took it upon himself to always make sure that odd little Matthiue had been included. The same boy who had always been the most adaptable of them all.

Matthieu wonders if he’s right, if he’s imagining it, if Odeserundiye recognizes him, or is playing along for the sake of a good business relationship, or if there’s some kind of funny charade that they’re both going along with here.

“Best batch of the year!” Odeserundiye boasts. “Worth some of your best pelts.” As the bargaining began in earnest, there were forms to be observed - of course both of them were terribly inconvenienced, no the tobacco wasn’t that good, the pelts not that important. Bargaining is a pretty terrible charade at the end of the day, but a necessary part of the process. Shame, because Matthieu is terrible at it, and only gets through it by pretending to be someone else. It makes him grit his teeth painfully, but it kind of works.

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to be toothless before you hit old age.” Odeserundiye laughs. “And there’s no reason for you not to grow ripe and old. I used to think you were an angry wanderer but now I think I’ve figured it out - I only see you when we have business to do and you just hate bargaining so you make that face. Well if that’s the case, don’t bother, just be yourself.”

Matthieu has to laugh back, all relaxed now. “Yes, you would prefer that wouldn’t you? Then I’ll be limping back to Montreal naked and unarmed because I’ve given you everything for a handful of tobacco.”

Odeserundiye smiles fondly, and that familiar face pulls at Matthieu’s chest. “Relax, relax. Just enjoy the moment.” Matthieu inhales another long drag from the pipe and slowly breathes it out. After a long pause of taking Odeserundiye’s advice, Matthieu focuses on enjoying the sound of the river next to them, as they comfortably sit along its banks.

Eventually the other man breaks the silence. “If you’re willing to take advice, I already like doing business with you. I wouldn’t let you limp back anywhere unarmed and vulnerable - it means losing a good trading partner.”

Matthieu snorts. “I can handle myself.”

“I am sure that you can...you’re alive after all. You’re one of the very few independents still around, still thriving. You can probably continue doing this, but the companies are taking over. It’ll be difficult to survive as an independent for long.”

The contented mood is broken, and Matthieu exhales his smoke this time in frustration. “Why do we always have to accommodate them? They come here, with their new things, and they destroy everything. I was perfectly happy living here before they brought their guns, I was perfectly happy living on my own before I had to sell them fur again, and I have been content as an independent agent. What else will they ruin?”

“No you were not.”

Matthieu turns sharply and peers at his smoking partner, who slowly inhales from his pipe and lets the smoke out from his nose. “No one is perfectly happy all the time. I am guessing your father is one of them, you favor him. You still speak with the accent of the People of the Bear, so you must have been raised as a child with your mother’s people. While there are many children among our nations with European fathers, it is rare to favor them as much as you do; blonde-haired and pale-skinned. Perhaps your mother herself had some voyageur blood as well. It cannot have been easy, looking so different from everyone else-”

“I had a family!” Matthieu hasn’t felt this pain in a long time, he’s used to clamping it down. “They took care of me. They would have continued taking care of me, people would have gotten used to me eventually.”

Odeserundiye simply looks at him, assessing and sad. “I have lost three mothers. My first died of the pox, so my first mother’s sister adopted me. She was killed in the war, and I was given to a new mother in place of the son that she had lost. My third mother was killed in a retaliatory raid. Clearly they succeeded, but it never brought any of my mothers back. Matthieu, there has been war for as long as I can remember. If business is the price of whatever form of peace we have now, I will take it.”

Matthieu does not know where his temper had come from, he usually controls it well. Maybe Odeserundiye is right, war would have come sooner or later. Even before the Europeans had appeared his nation had struggled to keep the peace with the Haudenosaunee. He’s not going to imagine everything would have been perfect, but he likes to imagine that the conflict would have been less imbalanced - a series of small conflicts and skirmishes, but with his people and nation still existing. Not the aftermath of a genocide that he lives with now. “So, you want to keep me around as a business partner, and somehow this means I must join a company?”

Odeserundiye shrugs. “They would hire you. I could be your business partner. They wouldn’t hire me.” He says matter-of-factly. Matthieu knows he’s right - other than a European appearance, another thing that he inherited from his unknown French father was papers. Either that, or the Jesuits invented them for him. These ridiculously fragile papers gave Matthieu rights he never would have dreamed of being denied in his own birthplace - they mark him as a recognized citizen of New France. In these papers, his name is written as Matthieu Gellone. His father’s name is Francis and his mother’s name is written as Marguerite. He knows that’s not the name she used when he was a child. He sometimes wondered if she was actually baptized out of a real sense of faith or out of convenience to have her child with this ‘Francis’ recognized. Either way, he has saved these papers for no other reason than to have this tiny shred of evidence of her existence. The papers have been more useful than he had ever imagined they could be. The entire time he lived in the cabin he mostly forgot about them unless he was especially homesick for the past. Since he’s left the cabin and New France has grown, they have become more important.

Matthieu lets out a sigh. “Is this advice or is this a proposition to form a business partnership?”

“You could start your own company, don’t look away Matthieu I am serious! We could pool our resources, and start a company, have the protections afforded to a company! Under you, we would be protected from European advancement.”

What madness is this? “Protection? The companies go to war as much as our nations used to! I’ve seen so many dead tradesmen I leave them well alone. Staring up a fledgeling company is to put a target on our backs, on the backs of your family!”

“And what happens without risking this? We become enslaved to the companies that remain after the dust settles?”

Matthieu shakes his head. “You have the wrong business partner. I don’t have the brain for it. I don’t like it.” He knows who would have...once upon a time. Matthieu forces the memory of a tall man, straight-backed and lost in his world of calculations, out of his thoughts.

Odeserundiye places a comforting hand on Matthieu’s shoulder. “I would prefer you, but I will ask more. Think about it at least. Here, this is your tobacco. As agreed.”

Matthieu hands over the pelts and gathers up the tobacco. Before they part ways they embrace briefly.

“I am serious Matthieu, think about it.”

Matthieu doesn’t want to, but nods anyway.

---

On the way to Montreal, Matthieu thinks about the man who either looked and acted a lot like his former cousin, or was his cousin. If he is his cousin, this company formation is another act of his older cousin looking out for him. Matthieu cannot deny Odeserundiye’s read on their situation. And really, Matthieu is long past the point of pretending that he only needs his own company to survive. Ever since setting out again on his own again, Matthieu had to put aside enough of his aversion to other people to build a solid network for himself - reliable trade partners, customers, and bases of operation. Still, he likes being on his own. As much as he likes some of the people in his network, it’s easier to bargain with himself - put up with the social niceties and haggling, and reward himself with months of solitary travel.

“Still holding yourself back.” A familiar voice sounds in his head, it’s not accusing, it’s sad. Matthieu narrows his eyes and pushes on, focusing on the path.

Matthieu’s pelts and tobacco earn him good money at Montreal, he’s become familiar enough with the town that it is a comfortable base for now. It’s big enough that no one wants to know too much, it’s close enough that he’s treated to meals when he arrives. Odeserundiye’s words echo in his mind and he thinks deeper than his own instinctive aversion to the idea - objectively, Matthieu does well for himself, he has a small network spread across New France and among the Confederacy. Starting a small company is not inconceivable, and wouldn’t it serve to use his European face and name to afford some protection over this network? There’s a part of him, still a child, that is somewhat averse. Odeserundiye belongs to the nation that killed his family. But he has more in common with them now than to the Europeans.  

Speaking of the Europeans, Matthieu has become adept at imitating them too. Right now he’s sitting comfortably in his favorite inn - not too fancy, not too bad. It’s owners are honest immigrants who try a little too hard to marry him off to their daughter, but he knows how to avoid that for the most part. Instead, he observes.

There were newcomers to Montreal all the time, it was the center for fur trading, and it attracted more and more people. Then … there! Out of the corner of his eye.

Matthieu freezes, then he cannot help but look. Nothing. He looks again to make sure then laughs at himself in relief.

It doesn’t often happen now. In the early years just after he walked away from his cabin, Matthieu always imagined the Loupgarou just out of sight - in that corner, in the turn of that man’s face, in the shadow before a man moved. But it was never him. He thought he felt the other man’s familiar company on lonely walks for months on end in the woods, before realizing that he was only imagining a travel companion in the silence to keep loneliness at bay. It shamed him that of all the companions he could have imagined, it was still him.

He waits for his heart to calm itself then continues drinking. Still, he can’t help but turn around to get another glimpse over his shoulder, just in case.

It happens again. Matthieu thinks he sees a familiar head walk into a hidden corner.

‘I will put this idiocy to rest once and for all.’ He tells himself and stands to confront his imagination, where he is sure he will find nothing.

He turns the corner and finds a knife threatening his gut, held by an unknown man who is sitting across from a very very familiar face.

“Turn around now. Find another boy.” A deep voice advises with a bored tone - accented, Scandinavian? Those Northern settlers were usually more competent than the others, taking to the woods and surviving in them like second skin, almost as well as Matthieu himself.

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said! I’m not here for…” Matthieu looks at the boy with the very familiar face again and is horrified at the resemblance. But it’s not him. The boy, no young man, is shorter, his hair wavier and loose. His face however, is recovering from shock and settling into a familiar look of concentration.

“Odd please!” The young man suddenly smiles, all amiable as if he owns the Inn and is trying to attract a guest. “Let our new friend sit. I know what men look like when they want me, this one...isn’t looking at me like that. But, that’s not important. Sir...you look like you’ve seen me before.”

Matthieu looks between the young man with the Loupgarou’s face, which is trouble enough for him and his memories, and the other man...Odd? Who is putting away a very large knife. The latter has sharp, almost feminine facial features, very light blonde hair, a long walking staff strapped to his back, and there was just something about him that put Matthieu on edge. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but there was something...more about that man. Too much trouble. Nope.

He tries to turn around and finds that he can’t. Now instead of holding a knife to him, the man... Odd , is holding his arm. Matthieu has to fight an odd compulsion to stay and easily twists his arm out of the grip. Odd looks somewhat surprised at that.

“Look you two,” Matthieu says, “I can’t imagine what kind of unsavory characters have come after you since you’ve arrived here but if you -” He looks at the younger man with the too familiar face, “insist on looking like a bag of gold with legs, I would do something about not looking like that. Meanwhile you -” He looks at Odd and pauses, what did he want to say? “You ah, clearly have skills as a woodsman and you can teach him how to look less…” polished? Rich? “Obvious, but if you insist on pulling a knife on everyone who looks at him the wrong way, it’s not going to help you both stay hidden. None of these things gives either of you the leave to manipulate me or manhandle me. That’s all the help I can offer, I’m going now.”

“Wait!” The younger man runs in front of him with an earnest look he has never seen before but he can’t quite ignore either. “Sorry about that, we started off wrong. Let’s try again please? My name is Christian, and I’m looking for my brother!”

The world condenses right then and Matthieu has to take a deep breath and let it out.

And do it again, and again. Matthieu has to keep doing it….this boy is looking for his brother. Of all the brothers, could it be? Memories comes back, a too familiar voice sounds in his head - ‘somewhere my sister and brother are laughing and they don’t know why…’ the warmth in those eyes whenever he spoke about his siblings, then ‘I bought...my mother her retirement and my siblings a future out of a whorehouse…’

Matthieu looks away.

“You know him.” Christian declares. It’s not a question. “He’s alive then, I knew it. I wasn’t wrong, I couldn’t be. Please tell me where to find him. I can find him myself eventually but it will be so much faster if you-”

“I can’t help you!” He didn’t mean to be so threatening, but Christian shrinks away from him and Odd is standing in front of Christian protectively, looking ready for a fight again. Matthieu takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. I know you must have come a long way, but people arrive here all the time and disappear. Our land is much bigger than yours.”

Slender fingers take his hand, there’s a strange...tingle to them. “Is he dead?” Odd asks softly, almost a whisper. Matthieu did not expect that strong pull to answer...

“I…” Why can’t he answer? “I…” He looks Christian, at those familiar green eyes and that eager face. He doesn’t want to break it, he doesn’t...he knows what it’s like to lose someone he loves, and to search, and search...and search. It would be cruel to let that search continue, this young man should live his life properly - too many had died just for this boy to live a happier life. “I once met someone who looked like you. He’s dead. A winter storm took him.”

And for a moment it happens - Christian’s face goes slack with shock, before twisting into a look of such pain it’s too achingly familiar. Matthieu tries to steel himself from it, to remind himself of what the Loupgarou had done for the sake of this younger brother. He looks at his young man who is falling apart - is he worth everyone and everything that Matthieu’s ever loved?

As Christian folds into himself in grief, and Odd goes to comfort him, for the first time Matthieu allows his thoughts to fly where he’s never allowed them to go - at the volatile age of fourteen when he almost ended his life on this world...if someone had brought his mother back to him, but with a knife held to her throat...promised her freedom if only Matthieu agreed to something that could kill everyone on some nameless nation he didn’t know, across the sea, would he have at least tried?

‘It’s not the same’ Matthieu tells himself. ‘It can’t be compared.’ It didn’t happen that way. “I am sorry for your loss.” Matthieu says, surprised to realize that he actually means it.

Christian shakes his head, but his voice is breaking. “No. No it can’t...he’s a fucking cockroach! Nothing can...he can’t....” Odd’s face is soft and sympathetic, he envelopes the younger man in a hug. Christian grabs onto him, sobbing into his shoulder.

Matthieu turns and sighs - three men arguing then one young man losing all composure is attracting too much attention. “We should leave. I have a room upstairs.”

---

Well...this is awkward.

Once again, Matthieu finds himself sharing his personal space, except this time with two strangers. His sympathy for a young man who has just suffered a great loss has led Matthieu to let Christian sleep on his bed. Tonight, he will make do with the floor, together with another man he barely knows, and who had greeted him with a knife.  Perfect. Why does he keep doing this?

‘You’re not even here, you’re dead…’ Matthieu speaks to that all-to-familiar memory in his head. ‘Why is it that I can STILL blame all the strange things in my life to you?’ Why could he not turn away a boy with that familiar face? Why does he feel a churning inside?

Odd sits on the bed, leaving a steadying hand on heaving shoulders until exhaustion finally takes the younger man into dreams. Once Christian is softly snoring, Matthieu finally speaks.

“You have younger siblings don’t you?” He whispers.

Odd looks over and nods, suddenly appearing far more tired than Matthieu initially thought.

Matthieu now wonders about the Loupgarou’s European life, about this strange place called Europe in general, and how terrible it must be for so many of its people to willingly leave it. “Did you know his brother?” He has to ask. There’s a part of him that tries to imagine Odd in the Loupgarou’s embrace, but it is gut churning. Matthieu chases the image away and looks down, cheeks burning - what’s wrong with him?

Odd settles down next to Matthieu on the floor and shakes his head. “No, Christian was already looking for him when we met. Or rather, when he met my brother. Those fools had originally planned to come here, just the two of them, without telling anyone. I managed to stop my brother in time and make sure he stayed but I had to come here anyway, with Christian, to make sure he didn’t get himself killed.”

Matthieu looks back at the slumbering young man. “That...must keep you very busy.”

“Yes,” Odd agrees with an exasperated sigh. “It does. Though he’s not without his skills, they’re just completely misplaced. Put that boy in the middle of a thriving city like Amsterdam and he would keep us alive. Here, he has a lot to learn.”

Matthieu could see that. “So that means...who did your brother come here to look for?”

Odd’s face takes on a wistful look, lips turned into a reluctant smile. “An idiot. A ridiculous, self-sacrificing idiot who tries too hard, and if there’s even the smallest chance he’s still alive, I’ll find him. If he’s not, I’ll gather whatever remains and bring him home for a proper burial.”

Matthieu’s stomach calms itself and he finds himself smiling with sadness and admiration. It’s a nice sentiment, but he shakes his head all the same. He can tell just by looking at him that Odd knows what he’s just sworn - a lifetime to this other mysterious idiot who managed to get lost in Matthieu’s home. For heaven’s sake. “You may never find any remains either. Is there really nothing else you’d rather be doing than wandering around my homeland for the rest of your life?”

Odd’s only answer is a scoff. He gives Matthieu and unreadable look then shrugs and lies down on the floor. He’s asleep in no time, and Matthieu wonders about why these two strangers have decided he’s not going to kill or rob them.

Softly, Matthieu knocks his head against the wall. He’s the fucking idiot. A sap. He never learns. Still, he can’t help but stand and silently make his way over to the slumbering young man and drink in his familiar features. Why is he doing this to himself?

It’s torture to see Christian lost in the world of dreams, relaxed from care, just like Leverett had been in those few precious days after learning how to sleep. Matthieu thought time would erase Leverett’s face from his mind, turn it blurry, but even if that had been true, it’s not now. Looking at Christian, Matthieu remembers everything. He remembers enough that he can see where the brothers do not resemble each other, and aches for the familiar even as he detests what he sees.

He reminds himself - Matthieu’s entire world, gone, for this little brother.

---

“Where did you last see him?” The boy asked the moment he realized Matthieu was awake.

Matthieu looks around the room. Odd is not there. With a sigh, Matthieu hauls himself up and stretches. He stands, ignoring Christian for a moment and pours himself a drink, his mouth is feeling dry. To the young man’s credit, he doesn’t push or ask again, waiting as Matthieu walks around the room, loosening the kinks in his neck. Finally, with a sigh, Matthieu realizes he is curious enough to answer some questions, just to see where it leads. He pulls over the lone stool in the room to sit next to the bed. “Christian, the man I saw...that was six years ago. Six. By now there are no remains to be had.” Besides there was one other sibling the Loupgarou had mentioned. Matthieu hoped this sister wasn’t running around here too. “You should go home.”

Christian nods, thinking, and Matthieu is filled with dread. There is no grief in the boy’s eyes, only determination. “Was he alone?”

Matthieu wonders if Christian knew about the curse. “Yes. He was. Look Christian, the man I saw may not even be your brother. For all I know, you all look the same over there.”

Finally, Christian focuses on Matthieu, his eyes searching. It’s mildly disturbing and yet Matthieu can’t really separate himself from staring back. When Christian is calculating something, like he is now, he looks even more  like the man Matthieu knew. Finally, Christian relaxes, “When you saw me, my face, you recognized it. You looked broken, then you looked like you wanted to kill me. You gave me a bed to sleep on instead.”

Well he was certainly just as straightforward as his brother had been. Why is Matthieu here? He may have loved Leverett the Loupgarou, but he knew he hated Daan. This boy sitting on the bed in front of him was part of Daan’s world and acting like who Daan had been - throwing himself into places he had no business being in, spearing through things he didn’t understand. Christian would kill to find Daan, just as his brother had been willing to do the same to give this little brother a different life.

Matthieu stands. “I know what it’s like to lose family. Go home to the rest of yours before you can’t.”

As he’s striding out from the room, Matthieu feels a small sense of satisfaction that he’s just going to pay and leave. This is all the closure he’s going to get - Leverett and Daan dead, his family now knowing about it.

Maybe a different man would seek vengeance on Christian. The thought crosses his mind for a moment and Matthieu angrily dismisses it. It wouldn’t do anything - certainly not bring his family back, just like how a retaliatory raid had not brought back any of Odeserundiye’s mothers. Punishing Christian would not change what Daan did. It would be a waste of energy, time, and peace for nothing.

---

He’s left the confines of the town and is well on his own trail by the river when he senses he’s not alone…he’s also not surprised. Matthieu slows his pace, and Odd matches step with him, as if they were both sharing this journey together all along from the beginning. Maybe they had been. “Why are you so amused?” He stops to ask Odd..

“It’s not amusement.”

“Then?”

“Just trying to complete this puzzle. His brother. You loved him, you hate him, but not enough to really leave Christian behind. You knew we’d follow.”

Matthieu frowns. Is he this easy to read? What was it about Odd that was just so...well, odd? In the distance he can see Christian finally catching up, eyes locked on him in a familiar grim determination. Matthieu looks back to Odd and he voices out his suspicion. “You’re a shaman aren’t you?”

“I promise, other than assessing your intentions when we first met to find out how dangerous you are, and to find out where his brother went, I’ve done nothing else. Your thoughts and decisions are your own.”

Mattheiu thinks he can believe that, other than those first two times, Odd hadn’t touched him. Still, he wasn’t quite sure how to act around this European shaman. He’s partly fascinated by the existence of one - they had struck him as a people so far removed from their earth that he figured they didn’t have any shamans. Not to mention, the Jesuits seemed especially adamant against such practices. Still, there’s difference enough, Odd does not look like any Shaman that Matthieu remembers.

“You walk fast.” Christian pants when he finally reaches them. “And Odd, how could you leave me?”

A slight smile plays at the edge of Odd’s lips as he answers “You were going to be fine. Besides, this is a life you’re going to have to get used to if you insist on going through with this idea of yours.”

Matthieu cannot help but smirk as well. “Dare I ask?”

Christian squares his shoulders and looks directly into Matthieu’s eyes. Matthieu somehow feels like he is about to hear a sales pitch.

“Alright Monsieur Matthieu, you’re right. This land is big. It’s so big it hasn’t even been mapped. Who knows what is out there? I am just one man, I’ll never find my brother, or figure out if he’s still alive, simply by physically looking for him.”

Stubborn boy, but smart at least. “Yet, it sounds like you won’t go home.” Matthieu replies.

Christian frowns. “If he’s alive, I know how to find him, but please Monsieur, I will need your help.”

Curious, Matthieu has to ask. “I’m not agreeing to anything, but what do you propose to do?”

Odd sits down on a nearby rock, indicating that this is going to take a while. Meanwhile, Christian smiles in relief. “It’s a last effort but if I can’t find him this way, I’ll give up the search. I know how my brother’s mind works...strategically. I used to think the world of him, he was never really an affectionate older brother but he did his best by trying to teach me important lessons. You said my brother perished in a winter storm. I know he got on a boat and crossed here in late summer. Either he survived on his own in this strange land for months before running into you and somehow making enough of an impression in that short time, that you now keep looking at me as if you can’t decide whether to cry or to kill me...OR, he stayed with you and traveled with you for months and you cared for him until winter.”

Matthieu frowns and looks at Odd. Odd’s hands are up defensively. “I told you he has different skills.”

Matthieu really wonders how obvious he is, and realizes how lucky he is that his business partners must be fond of him. If he’s this readable he truly must be a terrible businessman. “Fine, I met your brother, we know this. What does this have to do with your plan?”

“My point is, if he stayed with you for months, you know about his curse.”

Matthieu freezes. “I did not mention it because I was unsure if you knew about it.”

“Fair.” Christian shrugs. “And I thought maybe you killed him, except you seemed genuinely sad when you told me that he was lost to a winter storm. So if he survived the storm, and was doing his usual idiocy of running away from the few people he cares about so he doesn’t hurt them, there’s only one way he would have survived!”

Matthieu thinks the answer should be obvious but he honestly doesn’t know it, “How?”

“Change his name and start a trading company of course!” Christian exclaims while jumping in excitement. “I’ve been reading about all the new trading companies that have been exploding in New France in the past five years! It’s easy to hide in one of those! Also, a new territory? Easy to have papers made up for you if you have the right connections and price. My brother wouldn’t disappear into the woods or anything like that, he’s a city man, an entrepreneur. The only place he could hide would be in business! And if he’s hiding in business, I can find him!”

Matthieu shakes his head, thinking of the thousands of trading companies, some so small they only last less than a day. “How could you possibly find him through business?”

Christian grins, “I know how he thinks. Let’s start a company. You’re the local expert, Odd could help us with intelligence gathering behind the scenes, and I’ll handle business. Give me a few years to understand how things work here and I’ll figure out which companies have been around long enough to have possibly been started by my brother - there can’t be that many that have survived for what? Four or five years?. Then I’ll figure out how each of those are run, the history of growth and purchases. I don’t need his name to find him, but trust me, I’ll recognize how he runs a company! He can’t hide that from me!”

This? This is the plan? Matthieu cannot be as enthusiastic as Christian clearly is. He’s also wondering why everyone is after him to form some kind of company lately. “Christian, by some miracle, if you start up a company, and it survives, and you manage to come up with a list of potential companies, and um...all that you said...it’s been six years. Let’s imagine your brother is alive, you may still never find him because people can change a lot in six years.”

The little brother’s grin turns mercenary. “Then I find nothing and I sell you my shares in the company and go home. Then you can sell them and retire and do whatever you want, and not have me bothering you anymore.”

Matthieu groans and looks up at the sky with a frustrated expression. “I was just telling someone yesterday that I don’t want to start a company.”

“Oh great! Who? I sense a new business partner. The more locals the better, most of these places will fail because they won’t have local expertise and networks as its foundation.”

In the end, Matthieu accepted his fate. Which apparently, was to register a trading company. Himself, Odeserundiye, Odd, and Christian were equal partners, with Matthieu and Odeserundiye having the local network and exclusive area knowledge to find resources where most companies didn’t know where to look; Christian handling accounts; and Odd handling...information and intelligence gathering. The deal was, if Christian found his brother, or decided the search was over, he would keep a percentage of his earnings to live comfortably back in Europe, and divide the rest of his shares equally between Matthieu, Odeserundiye, and Odd. As for Odd, as it turned out, the man he was looking for was afflicted with the same curse that Christian’s brother had, so finding one Loupgarou  would hopefully provide a strong lead to the other.

Matthieu for his part, found himself on a new journey that he never expected. Part of his life at first was mostly unchanged. He did the same things he used to do, traveled, built networks, caught beavers; except now he also trained other people to do the same occasionally, and he did all this while...being an owner of a company and having earnings be stored in several banks - Christian took care of those details. The other part that surprised him was that Odeserundiye was right, there was protection to be had under the cover of a company, and as a person with European paperwork, Matthieu did find himself having a little more power than he ever felt before, to protect the parts of his home that he had always seen as under attack. He bought land so that native nations would not be forced to move from it, he used his position to try to warn people of harmful new policies when he learned of them. Of course, Christian would catch wind of it, tsk, shake his head and go straight to the Governor with gifts and flowery words to completely distract him from implementing such boring and unimportant new laws.

Odd’s words from that first day “In a city, he would keep us alive” were truer than ever. Montreal was slowly becoming a city, and it was Christian’s oyster.

Matthieu was no more comfortable as an owner of a well-to-do company than he had ever been before. Change still came too fast, and he wasn’t sure if it was serving his home for the better. He also learned that he would never really be fully accepted among the original nations, even though he was born one of them. It pained him, but he also could not blame them for this prejudice when he obviously gained so many advantages simply for favoring his European father’s looks. And anyway, Matthieu held onto his own prejudices so tightly, even with Christian and Odd as colleagues and eventual friends.

They were a strange group, but they were his group. There’s no time now to imagine he can hear the Loupgarou speaking to him in his head. There’s no time to sit for hours, lost in the memories of the dead, or to listen to the wind howl. He doesn’t know if this is better or worse, but it certainly is different.

The most obvious thing he realizes, is that he’s no longer alone.

[borusawa]

1 New Message

A/N: Well, I don’t have nothing much to say actually, except I’m sorry, both for the wait and for this chapter being smaller than usual. The chapter is dedicated to someone important for valentine’s day (aka a friend that doesn’t use tumblr). Enjoy <3

Beta reader: @abbypdg 

Warnings: none

Word count:  3,893

< Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3: Hangover You

Now Idiot

I’m here

With lazy motions, I got up from my bed where I was resting before the not-so-acclaimed moment of leaving my house became imminent. I stared down at my bed for a while, not ready to say goodbye yet and with a sigh, I dragged myself out of my apartment. As soon as I left the lobby, my sight was blinded by the sunlight despite being 9 A.M only. Oh, the wonders of summer. It took me long to adapt enough to the amount of luminosity so I could actually see something. Boruto was waiting for me outside the car, crossed arms and a playful smile plastered on his countenance. I knew what he was about to say and I couldn’t avoid the giggle when I got closer. He knew I was laughing because of the joke he was about to make.

“What?” I went beyond him to open the car’s door as he accompanied me with his sight.

“Wow, good morning for you too.” His gaze went up and down on my body and then he smirked. “You look great by the way.”

Instead of entering, I pushed my body away from the car. “What’s wrong with my look?” I took a quick glance at myself before looking at him once again.

“You’re wearing a flower dress to a moving day. It looks like you never moved out and have no idea of what you’re about to do.”

I raised my index finger in front of his face. “Okay, it was the first piece of clothing I saw and the easiest one to wear.”

He chuckled and started to walk to the driver side. “Funnily enough, it’s also the easiest one to remove.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, do you want me to change?”

He smiled in response. “Nah, you look great.”

“I would look great in any clothes, and even without any of them, just so you know.”

We both entered the car and put our seat belt on. “I believe you. Although I gotta tell ya, you look wasted.” He started the engine.

“I saw that coming.” I rolled my eyes again. At that point, I was sure that in some moment of the day, I would stick my eyes in my brain for eye-rolling excess. Sadly, no shower could take away my hungover appearance and I knew I had a specifically bad one today since I had no proper sleep. As the car ran through the streets, I noticed how summer always had the power of making people happier; kids were playing at the sidewalk, along with people walking with dogs or jogging. I was almost dead, the movements made me wanna puke and the sunlight was still doing its best to make my eyes water.

"Can you please slow down? I'm kinda hungover."

“I can tell.” We stopped in a red light. “ I thought you went to sleep after we talked last night.”

I knew the topic was coming but still was a surprise, and not a welcoming one, for I had no excuses ready. “Well, I was going to…” My widened eyes started to go side to side while I tried to find the right words to explain what happened and I could tell him. “It’s just that Chocho was excited about that party and you know how she gets…” His chuckle was my signal to stop talking.

“Yeah, I guess I know.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “So, how was the party?”

“I suppose it was good, but I don’t know exactly what happened, I don’t want to know and I want to forget everything my mind dares to remember.” I wanted to change the subject so I would distract myself from any topic related to last night.

“That good?” I gave him a look, but he was too focused on the road to notice. “Won’t you ask me how…”

“I can’t wait to eat, I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since last night.” I said as soon as I understood where his mind was going; I wasn’t ready to listen to how his date went flawlessly and Yuki was the perfect girl. I wanted to change the subject but not for that one. It indeed surprised me how many topics were uncomfortable for us at that moment, considering that two days before, regardless of my urge to hide my feelings, he was the one I trusted the most.

“It’s your lucky morning, lady. Ally’s is right in the corner.” We both smiled.

Ally’s wasn’t only our favorite place to hang out, but it also served the best food we humans could ever ask for. He parked in the empty parking lot, and we went inside talking as always. Ally, the owner, was always the cutest old lady on earth, and we greeted her as soon as her round face appeared behind the counter, ready to talk to us as usual.

“Sarada, Boruto, good morning.”

“Good morning.” We replied cheerfully.

“Looks like someone had a night out.” She said and I giggled. Ally recognized the signals after so many hangovers spent at the place.

“Yeah, a really long night out.” Boruto and I sat at our usual place with Ally following us close, holding a small notebook and pen in hands.  “May I have a cup of coffee, please?” I asked.

Ally smiled. “Of course, my dear.” She turned to look at Boruto. “What about you, young boy? You don’t even look like you’ve been up all night.”

Boruto let out a small uncomfortable chuckle and I looked around, only then noticing that the beat-up seats were sadly empty and we were the only ones there during a Saturday morning. I could perfectly recall a time where entering there or even parking outside was a hard—almost impossible— task. It made me sad to think that Ally’s, often times my comfy place for when I thought I could fall apart, was on the verge of bankruptcy. I took a deep breath before concentrating on the boy across the table again, his uncomfortable laugh still clear on his features.

“Because I was home sleeping after an amazing date.” Ally threw a glance at me from behind small round glasses and I swallowed dry.

“A date, you say? Was it good?” Ally asked with a smile, no longer looking at me.

“Perfectly fine.” His grin was so wide it made his eyes close. How long would I have to deal with this? “We’ll also want waffles and orange juice for me.”

Ally left and Boruto stared at me as if examining my expression. He tilted his head slightly to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Is there something wrong? You look upset.”

“No, nothing.” I shifted my sight to the clear window on my right side. I could feel his stare on my skin but I couldn’t care less.  Putting my plan for subject change in action, I did the only possible thing capable of distracting him. “So, how was your date last night?”

“You should stop lying.” Fuck, my plan failed.

I looked at him and said matter-of-factly. “I’m not lying.”

“I know you.” His glare was low-key starting to bother me.

“Then you’re sure I’m not lying. How was your date?” I said with hurried words and fixing my gaze on the table; Boruto sighed in response, visibly frustrated.

“Sarada… One day you’ll have to stop lying and simply tell the truth.”

“Ha, as if.” Boruto chuckled and I grinned in response. Escape succeeded.

“Well, the date went fine thanks to your advice.” I couldn’t deny seeing him that happy was a stab in my heart. His bright smile and beautiful eyes were now accompanied by thoughts of someone who wasn’t me, it would never be me and I was sure of it. I had conflicting feelings about the whole situation. As a friend, I wished him happiness but as a girl in love with him, I wished his happiness to be with me.

“I’ll make sure to give bad ones next time, don’t worry.” He stretched his arms over the table to touch my hand and I just let him.

“Thank you for everything. You’re the best friend I could ask for.” Another stab. Friend. The presence of Ally coming back to our table took any sorrow from my mind momentarily. I brought my hands under the table and before he could vocalize his doubts, Ally placed the tray right in front of us. Boruto sighed, I looked to the other side chewing my bottom lip. This morning was going differently from any other breakfast we’d had before, even considering when we were kids. A bad mood hovered over us, predicting we would have a complicated day and my hangover wasn’t responsible fo that. At least we had food. Food and untold feelings.

Boruto paid for the meal while I walked to the car without saying a word. Two days before, everything was different, we were Boruto and Sarada, childhood best friends, together everywhere. Even though no words were said, we had an unbearable silence and a never-ending path to his house.

“Sarada.” I looked at him. “You need to talk to me.”

“About what?” He placed the car in the parking area and I felt sincerely confused.

“Stop lying.”

I left first, hurrying to the lobby and asking for the elevator. After a moment, Boruto was with me, one hand into his pocket the other reaching for my shoulder. At that point, I thought he might have had some specific topic in mind for the whole day upon us. It was only 11 A.M after all, and his questions were far from unintentional.

“When will the others come?” I asked and we entered the elevator with his arm around my shoulders.

“I’m not sure, no one answered yet, only Yodo and it’s been a while now.” He sighed.

“So Yodo will come. Does Shikadai have any idea of this?” I giggled.

“Not at all, otherwise he would never agree.” He widened his eyes, legitimately scared. “Don’t you dare to tell him please.”

I laughed even more. “Chill, I won’t. You’re the cupid here, I won’t muddle into your plans.”

He took a deep breath. “Good, that’s exactly what I expected from you.”

The elevator’s door opened, and we walked to his apartment that, as expected, was a mess. Every piece of clothing, utensil, and book of the house was placed in the living room, along with some closed boxes — a lot less than it should be. I went straight to the kitchen, for I was incredibly thirsty and I needed water. I could hear that Shikadai was in the kitchen, so I decided to greet him.

“Good morning Shika… OH MY GOD!” Something I wasn’t expecting happened and Shikadai was not alone. The opposite, actually, since he was kissing Yodo right there in the kitchen in a way I could only describe as heated. Both he and the blond girl went dark red at my sight, detaching quickly and staring me with their eyes wide open. In no time Boruto got in the kitchen and started to laugh, leading me and the embarrassed couple to laugh together.

“I’m glad to see you guys are getting along.” Boruto said.

I looked at him. “Getting along? You can’t picture what I saw.” I started to pace back to the living room. “This image will be forever on my mind.” I murmured with Boruto following me close.

“I am pretty sure I can put a better image on your mind right now, so you’ll forget whatever happened in there.” I could simply feel the smirk on his words.

“Oh, so you’ll clean everything alone, right in front of me? I would be honored to see this.” I joked, playing along.

I sat in the little space left on the couch and Boruto sat on the floor, gathering things to put in one box he probably got during the time I was in the kitchen. “You’re so funny.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, deeply annoyed. “You didn’t pack anything. Awesome. This will make things easier.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, we only have until Monday to leave the apartment and we can’t move on Sunday so… Today is practically our deadline.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re so screwed.”

“Thanks.” He smiled without caring.

I didn’t notice when, but Yodo and Shikadai managed to control the abashment and get to the living room to effectively help with the moving, and both stared at us from the other side of the room while I showed my disgust towards his lack of responsibility.

“You guys are the cutest couple I have ever seen.” Yodo almost whispered with a big smile on her face. Boruto and I’s eyes went wide open, Shikadai sighed, and Yodo got completely confused. “What did I say?” Her sight switched to Shikadai, searching for an answer.

“Nothing, we are not a couple, that’s all.” I said and the girl blushed deeply for the second time today despite the fact she only had said literally two sentences. She got her phone from the pocket of her hoodie immediately after that and put on her earphones. Now it looked more like her. I thought once that her earphones were glued to her ears for medical reasons, but I was mistaken and apparently, they could leave her ears. “We should just put things into boxes and wait for the rest of the people, shall we?”

Everyone nodded, and we kept silence, the only sound being the eventual drag of furniture and occasional questions such as “Can you give me this?” and “Where is that?” That until Iwabe called Boruto informing that he, Namida, Wasabi, Denki and—for my personal unpleasure— Inojin were in their way. My first thought was ‘I gotta leave’ simply because I was not ready to confront Inojin or any of the people that knew what happened, Mitsuki included. The truth was that I was somewhat happy with the possibility of being only Shikadai, Boruto, Yodo and I, considering that they didn’t even picture my late night adventures nor my early morning ones. I had no idea how should react when they knocked on the door; my urge to run and hide barely being held.

Inojin was the first one to walk inside the room. I remained on the floor, avoiding to look at his direction but apparently, he got the hint that I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. He passed me, greeting Shikadai and ignoring my presence as if we had never met.

Shikadai started. “Sarada, this is Inojin. He is our new roommate.”

“Hello, Sarada.” He smirked at me with his perfect set of teeth and I was just too annoyed by his presence to greet him back with more than a glare. By then, the others started to crowd the already full room. Our talk went completely unnoticed by them. These people are really distracted.

“I feel like I’m losing something here… Do you guys know each other already?” Shikadai pointed at Inojin and I, our eyes locked into each other.

“I know her. I know her pretty well.” Under my breath I said “Fuck you” and he, also whispering, answered, “You did it already”. I rolled my eyes because I couldn’t express my frustration in any other more aggressive way. This is the reason why Rihanna kills men in her song.

Seeing our interaction, Shikadai’s only reaction was a sigh. “Okay, I rather don’t know it.”

“GUYS! Important news now.” Namida started to scream and called everyone’s attention. “Guess who is finally dating?” She pointed to the girl on her side, Wasabi, who giggled. “And surprise! I’m not her girlfriend despite everyone that thought so. I’m straight and single, so if you have any single guy friends, I may be interested.” Her comments made the whole room laugh. “No, seriously. I want a boyfriend.”

Iwabe was the first to control the laughing and ask a question. “So how is she?”

“Sweet and kind. I think this time is finally for real.” A sweet smile adorned her cute face.

“Were the other ones lies?” Denki asked stating his curiosity towards her affirmation.

Wasabi took a deep breath. “No, they just weren’t her.” She had a look that made me wonder when would someone talk about me in that way, but I brushed the thought out of my mind. That was a lucky girl.

“I’m happy for both of you.” I said and Wasabi smiled at me.

“Wait, when will we meet her?” Iwabe asked.

“Soon.” It was all Wasabi said.

“You fools, I met her already.” Namida said fully satisfied.

After a lot of questions towards the girl in love, the transport company came and we started to put stuff inside the truck, we were taking turns so no one overworked. First Shikadai and Yodo stayed in the apartment putting things in the elevator, or at least that was what we expected, then Iwabe and Namida, Wasabi and Denki, Inojin and I and lastly Boruto would be alone. By the time of my turn with Inojin, not much was left in the apartment but I wasn’t uncomfortable by the number of things; I was uncomfortable by his presence. Despite his undeniable good looks, every word that came out of his mouth was somehow offensive to me. He was one more mistake on my list. Why did my mistakes come after me?

“I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

I took a box and walked to the corridor. “Good thing you know that you are.”

He frowned. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to agree.”

“I need to agree with the truth, asshole.” I said when I was back at the door.

“Oh, that hurts.”

“It was intended to.” I smirked, putting my glasses back in place. He smiled back at me.

“You’re always welcomed back at my house, by the way.”

I raised my brows. “First of all, ew. Second, don’t you remember you have roommates now? That’s the kind of thing that I hate about you.”

“I won’t have until Monday.” He got closer, looking down at me. I could feel his warmth in my whole body and that made me want to throw up. “Don’t talk as if you didn’t like it.”

“That’s SO not the point!” I shouted.

He smirked. “So you liked it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you can get away from me now.”

“What if I don’t?” He raised his hand to my cheek and caressed it lightly, though I felt nothing. It was weird, it took a lot less for Boruto to have an effect on me. Meanwhile, this guy was right in front of me trying what I assumed was his best, but my thoughts were completely destined for another blue eye, in an obsessive monomania.  The ones that didn’t want me in the same way but I dreamed about every night. I closed my own eyes, breathing heavily, crossing my arms in a tentative of keeping me from slap Inojin when a motion was heard.

“Am I interrupting something?” Boruto appeared at the door, looking both mad and playful. Inojin was saved, which is good for him. “It’s my shift now, you guys can leave.”

Inojin walked through the door but stopped after noticing I wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No, I’ll stay here.” Inojin nodded —was that a hint of sadness in his expression?— and left.

Boruto got closer with a confused look. “What was that?”

“You ask me like I know.” I uncrossed my arms and started to take more boxes to get outside.

Boruto chuckled. “You guys know each other?”

“Ugh, I wouldn’t say so.” The boxes were heavier than I thought and I was almost losing balance, but Boruto held me.

“Let me get them.” His skin against mine only for brief seconds sent chills through my whole body. I was pissed at myself, I had no idea what was going through Inojin’s mind while talking to me, neither in mine to be fair, but I knew I was wrong for nourishing feelings for Boruto knowing they weren’t reciprocal. I just couldn’t avoid it, everything was different with him. It was, I knew it, there was no denial anymore. At this point in my life, all that was left was great grades and a thousand numbers in my contacts of people I didn’t care about, I never did.

“You don’t need to.” But it was too late and the boxes were already in his hands.

“Sit on the couch, I didn’t forget you ate nothing for lunch and you have a hangover. I’ll take care of you.”  And this is exactly what I meant from different. How was I supposed to get over this?

He was at the door by the time he ended his sentences, therefore, I had to speak a little louder. “But I’m fine.” I sat either way.

The truth was that I was with a headache the whole day both for dehydration and lack of sleep, but I didn’t want to worry anyone. No use, Boruto knew me too well. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep on the couch. It wasn’t perfectly comfortable like my bed—which I was genuinely missing by the way— but good enough.

“Sarada, wake up.” Boruto’s voice removed me from my dreamland and I yawned.

“What now?” I murmured with a sleepy voice and he put a hand on my arm.

“Wake up, you’re home.”

I opened my eyes slightly, noticing two things: I was inside his car and it was dark outside the window. “Oh fuck, how did I get here?”

“Calm down, you just woke up.” He smiled at me and I obliged. “I carried you to my car.”

“What?”

He chuckled. “You were so cute sleeping I didn’t want to wake you up, but at the same time, I already handed the keys back so I couldn’t let you there. So I brought you back to our home.”

“O-our home?” For how many years have I slept?

He narrowed his eyes to me. “I moved to your building today…”

I widened my eyes both in realization and embarrassment. “Oh yeah, of course.” I moved my sight to the window but everything outside was pitch black, therefore I assumed we were inside the building’s parking lot, in Boruto’s new vacancy since we were neighbors. I could see his eyes glowing in the dark, and I just wanted to touch him even though I couldn’t and god, it hurt.

“Wanna eat something later? Let’s have dinner somewhere fancy to celebrate my move. It’s 7 pm right now, we can get ready and leave at 8 pm what do you think?”

“Yes, please.” I nodded vigorously.

He opened the door and I did the same. “Oh, I almost forgot, can I stay with you for tonight? I have no bed.”

A weak blush scattered in my face, good thing it was too dark. “I guess we can find a way. The couch is available as far as I know.”

We part at the corridor of our apartments. I needed to get ready for our dinner. What the fuck is this guy doing to me?

[notcompliant]

Headcanon :: The Dynamic Duo :: Steve and Bucky 

This headcanon is based as a sort of meta but also default for my dynamic’s between Steve and Bucky. Please note two things, firstly this is adaptable as varying portrayals obviously have different canons and styles and secondly it is a basis for mainly my MCU default verse. 

As such, if parts of it weren’t in your canon, or you really love the MCU dynamic you don’t have to worry but also please be aware this isn’t gushy and St.ucky praising. Because on this blog I will spill truth about Bucky no matter the cold chill it takes to swallow it. 

Don’t worry though it has soft openings and a chance to be better. I’m just not a popular sugar coater whoops. 

So on we go!

1940′s the Brooklyn Boys:

Bucky meets Steve as a young teen, helping him get out of a tight spot during a fight and taking him back to his mothers diner for patching up. The two bond quickly over sciences, technology, an enjoyment of games and a want for a better tomorrow. Becoming best friends is easy, and Bucky cared for Steve like he did all of those closest to him.

This care extended to helping Steve in other ways, some he didn’t know about. As Steve’s illnesses became worse the Rogers were struggling with paying for the multitude of medication. Already having a paper route Bucky knew it wouldn’t give much, so he began looking for a second job. 

The one he found wasn’t the best of things, or entirely legal. Bucky ended up boxing for money. Already having the athleticism and training for it from his self defence classes (his mothers insistence with the turning tides of society, his father wasn’t fond of it but understood) meant that he was good. Good enough to stay alive anyway, and good enough to make some bucks from it. 

Steve’s parents didn’t ask and he didn’t tell where and how when he turned up with the medication. Glad for the help, and happy to help the silence worked well and Bucky got to see his best friend keep going and well enough to be the fighting little shit he was.

Now at this point in my portrayal Bucky doesn’t have romantic feelings for Steve. More he doubles as both a carer and a friend. It’s platonic, but intense due to the twist that comes when your life revolves around keeping someone else alive. You’ve got to understand, between boxing for Steve, fighting people with Steve, spending time with Steve and studying with Steve almost 80% of his day was wholly and entirely given to Steve who became a major part of his daily routine and life. That’s important later so keep it in mind. 

The War:

Being drafted was what changed Steve and Bucky’s dynamic, oddly enough. Away from Steve for an extended period of time, with the memories of games and the comfort of his friend Bucky did what a lot of people do when memories all they got. 

He got rose tinted glasses.

Steve became a sort of safe space mentally along with his family, to the point that Bucky’s feeling to Steve went from the role of carer and friend to more romantic in nature. Separation makes the heart fonder and all that.  

When Steve then saved him from Hydra the first time, Bucky’s mental romanticisation of Steve lingered into something close to hero worship that most people experience when being helped. Attraction comes with it. At this point, Bucky is inexplicitely heart eyes and willing to follow Steve into deadly hydra operations against any and all form of fucking logic. But hey, they’ve got their best friends back! Yay!

God don’t we wish that lasted. 

TWS onwards:

Breaking conditioning isn’t easy. Contrary to MCU belief a cutesy hand touch from a pretty redhead you potentially banged one night wont do it will i ever not drag mcu? no It’s got to be something substantial enough that your mind has made it a long term memory, not a short term one. 

Steve is that substantial memory. 

For Bucky, Steve was 80% of his daily life for years, and then someone who saved his life, who he was very likely in love with, who he idealised. Steve was a long term memory and oof did that come back with a vengeance. 

The only problem we have here is that whilst Bucky’s memory is jagged pieces and he feels affection for Steve, it’s not at strong or as all consuming as war Bucky had it. Think of it like the difference between seeing someone you love in person, and waking up from a dream you can’t really remember but you knew they were in it. You still feel warm, but you’re not all that sure why or how warm. 

Steve however, is now in the situation War Bucky was in. Idealisation and Romanticising of memories and lost potential. Or, rose tinted glasses. 

Problem with rose tinted glasses? They have the potential to make you blind, and in like in this case, make things worse. 

Steve and Bucky’s dynamic becomes toxic. Yeah, yeah I embrace the rumble of an angry fandom with a smile as I walk back into the truth of hell. It WAS toxic and you can quote me on that. 

Here’s why though since I’m going all out with this.

Steve is currently in a stage of denial, and likely due to his PTSD though remember kids mental illness isn’t an excuse to be an asshole, is currently desperately trying to cling to his image of Bucky that is right now being shredded by reality. 

Bucky’s popping his Bucky bubble and Steve isn’t taking it well, it sucks all around, especially for us watching. 

Steve is currently Bucky’s only source of information about his past and his identity, Bucky trusts him because the memory of trusting Steve is a strong and driving factor. Steve meanwhile is driven by having his Bucky back. 

In any way.

Even if for instance he has to traumatise him into reliving potentially false memories, degrade him when he doesn’t fit the mould the way Steve wants, i will fight him for the “that’s not good enough” line alone try and stop me to outright just dismissing anything Bucky says or wants and gaslighting him into “no, no I know better! I know YOU” ( “i’m not bucky” “yes you are” “no im not” “you fucking well will be even if I have to drag you through a civil war and to wakanda by your pigtails” ring any bells?) 

NOW DON’T GET ME WRONG I DON’T THINK STEVE DOES IT DELIBERATELY. Please don’t confuse me here, I’m not saying Steve is a deliberate piece of shit, only that in his own desperation he accidentally becomes the worst possible way of helping. 

And uh, well, it kinda goes downhill from there. Sadly because Steve tried to protect Bucky and in doing so lost the trust of Bucky. This is especially fitting in my portrayal where IW didn’t happen, so buckle in we’re on our last legs. 

Steve lied to Tony about his parents yeah yeah we all know blah blah civil war BUT what people don’t want to talk about is that Steve didn’t just hide it from Tony. He hid it from Bucky also. 

Look, when Bucky watches that Video not only does he go through pretty violent flash backs and border on a panic attack, but he also comes to the realisation that he can’t trust Steve to tell him the truth. 

You can see it in the way he flinches back from Steve (who is closest, reaching out, and moves first) and the way he fully intends to bolt before the real fighting starts. 

In my portrayal he steps in to try and break it up, and only fights against Tony when Tony actively starts gunning for his ass. Which is fair. Well, it’s not because neither should have been in that situation and it’s a shitty situation but like, it’s fair he’s defending himself. 

BUT from there on Bucky has an issue, and that issue is that he doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t trust his own memories and he knows he can not trust Steve to tell him all of it, or be honest about it, or to not keep things from him. 

Which is why Wakanda happens. Bucky no longer trusts Steve, and it’s not safe for him to be out. So he willingly agree’s to be frozen for a while, and let them see if they can help. Now in my canon once unfrozen he slips out of the hold because he desperately needs to learn about himself without Steve’s influence or control over the story. He NEEDS to find himself, he doesn’t hate Steve but he needs that.

By my main verse Bucky isn’t on either side, he doesn’t fully trust either side and he’s moving alone to try and figure out who he is and who he wants to be. Whilst the affection remains for Steve, it’s not romantic at that time, and Steve will have to earn his trust back just like all the other people who have (inadvertently or not) manipulated him. 

So that’s that! Thanks for making it this far, please come and cry with me about how both of them deserve better and then please give Bucky a friend he can trust, and also build a really dramatic and heart breaking reality stucky with me thank you. 

[writerlilahsuzanne]

Adrift - A Tack & Jibe short

Bodhi must have been a dragonfly in a past life. Or maybe a frog or a turtle or something else that thrives in the mess and muck of nature. It would explain how her body and soul settle and still out here in the Sound where the brackish water is placid, where it’s as if her kayak is slicing through a sheet of opaque glass.

She has mud and up to her knees from dragging her kayak through the surrounding wetlands, her long sun-streaked blonde hair sticks in sweaty clumps to her neck and forehead, and her own earthy scent swirls around her in the slow, heavy breeze: dirt and musk and patchouli shampoo and coconut sunscreen and lemon-eucalyptus bug spray that only sort of works.

When Bodhi was younger, her moms would have to beg her to come inside and take a bath, to sit at the table like a civilized person and do homework or chores that she never quite saw the point of. Why work on long division when she could climb a tree? Why study old men and the dates of wars when she could scoop tadpoles from a creek. Isn’t that more real? Life squiggling in her cupped palms, sturdy branches holding her, safe, up in the sky? And anyway, her moms always encouraged her to be free and wild and so she is.

It’s meditative, the rhythm of her paddles dipping in and out of the water; one side, then the other. Gentle waves glide along her boat, the seagrass and wild oats dance to the wind, the trees set farther back rustle with life. Along the way, Bodhi spots a flock of Redhead ducks that float in a clump near the shore, Seagulls and Royal Terns loudly scavenge for food and fish, Cormorants fly high above. She even spots a Great Blue Heron, long-legged and graceful and impossibly huge, picking its way slowly through the shallows. The Great Heron spreads its wings suddenly, perhaps startled by Bodhi and her bright red kayak, and takes flight. Bodhi drifts and watches it soar across the sky. Perhaps she was a bird, before, in a different life. She could spend hours or even days out here, all alone among the for birds.

“Hey, can we make a pit stop at the Visitor Center?”

She isn’t all alone. “Sure.” Bodhi smiles back at Hunter who is keeping pace behind Bodhi in her own kayak. Bodhi doesn’t mind the company, she’s out here with friends often, in fact, a whole group of them paddling the sound, or sailing between and around the chain of islands that make up the Outer Banks, or hiking through the dedicated nature preserve that takes up nearly half of this island. Hunter is around a lot lately. Like, always around a lot lately. Bodhi isn’t sure what she should take from that, exactly.

The Porter Island Visitor Center comprises two single-room buildings, one a museum-slash-information center, one a gift shop, both raised up a few feet on decks that connect via a weathered wooden walkway. There’s an outbuilding-type bathroom—barely more high-tech than an outhouse—and in the gift shop there’s a much nicer air-conditioned single stall restroom. They dock, and Hunter heads toward the gift shop.

When Bodhi moved here several years ago with her moms, the Visitor Center was one of their first stops. It was so quaint; a little sand- and salt-speckled shack with lighthouse and beach themed goods for sale. In the adjacent museum there is an entire wall dedicated to the years Blackbeard the pirate used the island’s shallow sound as a refuge in his downtime between the murders and pillages. There’s another whole wall about the island’s lighthouse. But Bodhi quickly adapted from suburban to tiny-island style living and now can’t imagine ever being anywhere else.

Bodhi idly browses the small sea-themed trinkets and a few racks of postcards, a shelf of hats and one of Porter Island t-shirts. There’s a section dedicated to books by local authors and books about local history and about the flora and fauna of the island. Bodhi flips through a book about seabirds. When Hunter emerges from the bathroom, she scans the gift shop until she finds Bodhi, then smiles like the sun coming out. Huh. That’s new.

“Ready?” Hunter freshened up while she was in the bathroom; her hair is smoothed down and damp with water instead of sweat, her light makeup touched up, and there’s no trace of dirt or grime. It’s interesting only because Hunter typically isn’t very fussy about that sort of thing. Sometimes, but she’s usually chill about... Well, everything. That’s why Bodhi likes hanging out with her. And doing other stuff with her.

“Yup. Ready.”

As they head out of the store, though, Hunter stops at the checkout counter and snags a giant sun hat from a spinning rack. “You’re so fair; you should get this.” She plops it on Bodhi’s head as the young-looking cashier watches them with obvious interest.

“This hat is like, excessive,” Bodhi says, tugging at the extremely wide brim. It’s one of those floppy sun hats, a rich lady sipping cocktails while on a yacht type hats. “Anyway, the sun is good for you.” Bodhi hooks the ridiculous hat back onto the rack. Cashier Boy’s mouth flicks up into a tiny smile. He’s cute. Too young, though, probably only eighteen or nineteen, Bodhi would guess. Bodhi is a little unsettled by that; being at a stage in her life now that someone that age would be too young for her to be interested in. Is this what getting old and mature feels like? Gross.

“The sun is good for you in small doses.” Hunter moves in closer still, brushes her thumb across Bodhi’s cheekbone. “All of those gorgeous freckles won’t be so lovely when they turn into melanoma.” Bodhi wrinkles her nose. Hunter’s thumb lingers at the corner of her jaw. Hunter’s eyes are pretty, Bodhi thinks. Like, she knew that but she hadn’t paid that much attention to them before. Well, she has. Just not this much. They’re like, ochre. Or a tiger’s eye gemstone.

“You guys are a cute couple.”

Bodhi startles and moves backward; Hunter’s hand briefly hovers mid-air then falls away. “No, we’re—” Hunter says, as Bodhi stutters out, “We aren’t— We’re—” But what even are they? A summer hookup that’s lasted four summers and now more? Friends, now that Hunter lives on Porter Island full time? Really good friends? Really good friends who hook up sometimes, but then go for long stretches without hanging out at all because it gets too intense too fast and yet they keep finding their way back together, as if it’s something cosmic or inevitable but neither of them really want it to be, unless they do?

It’s too complicated, too much to understand yet alone explain so Bodhi finishes her thought with a casual shrug.

It’s whatever.

“We should get back out there,” Hunter says, saving them all from the awkward moment. Bodhi doesn’t do awkward, so she’s grateful.

Back out on the water, Bodhi can’t seem to lose herself in the natural world like she always does. The cashier’s comment, and Hunter’s face after… Her own vehement reaction… Why Hunter has been around so much lately…

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Hunter calls, trailing behind Bodhi’s kayak once again.

They usually end these excursions by falling into someone’s bed, or sleeping bag, or boat, or, once, a rustic treehouse. And usually it’s casual. It’s chill. Neither of them care to put a label on it because it’s just sex but if things have changed for Hunter, that means Bodhi should probably put a stop to it. Hunter’s her friend and that means something to Bodhi. She doesn’t hurt her friends, not on purpose.

“I dunno. I have to work early.” She never really has to work, let alone early, her moms are cool with Bodhi helping at the sailing shop they own whenever she’s in the mood to help. More or less. She probably should go in though, so it’s not a total lie. “But we can hang after if that’s chill.”

Bodhi can’t see her, and doesn’t crane around to look, but she can hear the disappointment in Hunter’s voice all the same. “Sure yeah, it’s chill.”

Bodhi is now certain that it’s anything but.

+++

At dusk, Bodhi sets up shop on the back deck, a packed bowl on the glass table in front of her, her bare feet propped up next to her phone, a full backpack ready to go next to her reclined patio chair. She waits.

The location is always a secret until the very last moment; a precaution so no one reports their activities and sends everyone scurrying away and they miss the entire event. Tonight an event Bodhi has been waiting for, since she missed the last one. Accidentally fell asleep, her own fault. Her friend on the inside will text her when it’s go time, so Bodhi watches the sun go down and the moon come out as her eyelids grow heavier and her mind and body relax. But not too relaxed; not this time.

She planned to go with Hunter tonight but…

“Hey.” Willa slides the back door open. Her curly hair is extra wild tonight; Bodhi loves that. She loves that her roommate and best friend is both predictable—never late for a shift at the sail shop, never oversleeps, never once missed a bill’s due date—and also totally off the rails unpredictable. Bodhi really never knows what Willa will do next. She’s predictable in her unpredictableness.

“Whoa, galaxy brain moment.”

Willa’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bodhi drops her feet to the deck. “‘Sup dude. Join me.”

Willa picks up the bowl and then holds it away from her, skeptical-like—sometimes she’ll partake, sometimes she won’t, but she always grabs first and hesitates later—then sits at the table next to Bodhi and picks up the blown-glass bowl and lighter.

“What are you doing tonight?”

A flame lights Willa’s face, she smokes and coughs and croaks, “Mostly questioning all of my life choices.”

Bodhi laughs, Willa is always so funny, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Especially then. “Same. But like,” Bodhi loses her train of thought when a cloud passes over the dimly lit moon. It’s wicked. What was she— “Oh. Yo, come with me tonight.” It’s not usually Willa’s scene, this sort of thing, but Bodhi couldn’t say with certainty what Willa scene really is except like, nothing or everything or… Something. Anyway, Bodhi doesn’t want to go alone, and that’s the relevant point.

Willa squints one eye closed, and fixes Bodhi with the other. “Sit around outside in the dark for hours, get eaten alive by mosquitos and no-see-ums while we wait for something that might happen?”

Bodhi grins. “Hell yeah.”

“I thought you were going with Hunter.”

Bodhi waves a hand in the air. She means it to be exactly as vague as it is.

“What’s up with you two?” Willa takes the bowl again and manages not to cough, and sits back more comfortably in her chair. There was time, at the very beginning, that Bodhi thought she and Willa might be something more than friends. First of all, Bodhi was very into the hot skater chick thing, and Willa is smart and determined and super fun besides, but she’s glad they only ended up friends. Bodhi gets a little emotional thinking about not having Willa around and has to smoke a little more weed to settle herself down.

“C’mon, come with me,” Bodhi tries again, when she’s sure she won’t sound too invested in Willa’s answer. “It’s cool, I promise.”

“Another night I would, I’m just so tired with everything going on and—”

Bodhi's phone goes off with a text, and she scrambles to get it. It’s the coordinates for tonight, so it’s now or never, or least not for another several weeks at least. And yet, Bodhi stays in her chair and watches her phone go dark again. “Maybe I’ll skip it,” she says it mostly to herself. “I don’t really want to go alone.”

Willa looks at her with alarm. She’s not the only one. Since when does Bodhi care about doing things alone? Since now, apparently.

“Bo, is it possible you miss Hunter? I mean you two were like, glued together and now you aren’t even speaking to her.”

It won’t be the same without Hunter there. That’s the issue. But why? Too stoned for this conversation and these thoughts, Bodhi’s mind is a jumble of feelings and half-formed ideas and spiraling tangents. She doesn’t have an answer for Willa, or herself, so she shrugs, as if she doesn’t care. She does, though. Too much. Way too much.

Willa stands, grabs the bowl and lighter from the table and plops Bodhi’s backpack into her lap. “Go watch your turtle eggs hatch.”

Federal law prohibits the sea turtle rescue organization from posting the location of active nests. It keeps the turtles safe and keeps flocks of tourists from gathering en mass on the beaches and bothering everyone who lives nearby. Bodhi’s friend Kea volunteers for the organization, she regularly patrols the beaches looking for nests and collects data, keeping tabs on the number of hatchlings that conquer the hard-won journey out to sea.

“You made it.” Kea keeps her voice low and ducks in for a quick hug.

The sea turtle rescue organization has already roped off a small section of the beach, and a handful of volunteers mill around nearby. There’s about ten other people gathered farther back, including a family with two young kids. Bodhi wonders if their parents are aware that they’ll likely be up until morning. Her moms brought her to a few of these hatchings when she was a kid, so she doesn’t judge. It’s cool, actually.

Kea goes off to take some measurements of the nest and count the eggs. It’s a Hawksbill nest, they think, so there are likely hundreds of babies getting ready to hatch. Bodhi finds a spot back with the rest of the non-volunteers. The kids are digging holes in the sand and jumping in and out of them, though their parents are making sure they don’t get too loud or wound up. Bodhi’s buzz has worn off. The night is humid and sticky. She does miss Hunter.

“Did you know sea turtles can hold their breath for seven hours?” Bodhi says to the kids when they scurry past her. They both stop. “And some kinds of sea turtles eat jellyfish.” Bodhi glances back to the parents to make sure they don’t mind her talking to their kids. “Do you guys already know that the babies have to find their way to the ocean all by themselves?” They both nod, in sync. She guesses one or both of them has an interest in sea turtles and probably have a few facts collected of their own. They’re quiet for a few beats, and then the smaller one asks,

“How?”

Bodhi tips her head. “How do they find the ocean?”

“Yeah… Yeah 'cuz if the mom leaves them and they’re just borned--”

“Born,” the other kid corrects.

“If they’re just born— How do they know where to go?”

Bodhi likes how innately curious kids are, how they instinctively yearn to explore the world around them and aren’t afraid to ask questions, to admit when they don’t understand things. She tries to keep that spirit alive in herself.

“Well,” Bodhi draws her knees up to her chest and smiles up at the kids. “Sea turtles are phototactic. Do you know what that means?” They shake their heads no. “It means they’re drawn to light. Like, when you have your porch light on at night and moths and other bugs all come to fly around it? Same thing. So when they’re born, the moon reflecting on the ocean tells them where to go. Cool right? Like, the moon and the ocean are calling to them, telling them where their home is.”

“Yeah!” says one.

“That’s why it has to stay dark,” the other one says, quiet, a little shyer than their smaller sibling.

Bodhi glances back to the parents again. “Right. And the beach at night can seem a little scary, but we’re totally safe and we want to make sure the baby turtles don’t get confused and go the wrong way. They could get too tired or hurt or a predator could get them and that’s not good.”

Bodhi talks sea turtle facts with the junior turtle enthusiasts a little longer, until Kea returns to announce two hundred and twelve eggs total.

“Can I take a peek?” Observers have to stay back, but Bodhi’s a regular at this point. Kea nods and leads Bodhi to the nest that’s illuminated only by the light of the moon.

“So when are you joining our ranks?” Kea asks while Bodhi crouches near the nest. She always asks that, when Bodhi will start volunteering for the rescue. Everyone else on the volunteer team is like, getting their PhD in turtle nesting or whatever, or else retired conservationists with more experience and knowledge than Bodhi will have in her entire life, so.

“Yeah, I’m good.” It sounds dismissive, she knows. As if she doesn’t care. But that’s better than everyone knowing she doesn’t have much to offer.

“All right, all right. You’d be so good in outreach and education, though. Especially with kids.”

Bodhi shrugs. Scratches her neck. “The trainings are too early…”

Kea wisely leaves it alone, though she changes the subject to something else Bodhi doesn’t want to talk about. “Oh, hey, where’s your girlfriend tonight? Hunter, right?”

+++

“I thought you were avoiding me?”

“I was.”

Hunter shifts in the doorway; her hips cocked, one arm braced against the doorjamb, the other stretched across. She’s tiny, a pixie with short brown hair and delicate features and round doe eyes, yet she takes up the entire doorway. “And?”

“And… Now I’m not?”

Hunter doesn’t move. She lifts an eyebrow. If she tells Bodhi to get lost—and she should—Bodhi will do it. But this is their dance: On and off, up and down, together and not. Hunter must be tired of it, though. Bodhi can tell because it’s usually Hunter who comes calling, and Bodhi who gives in once again. Bodhi says nothing and Hunter says nothing, then Hunter finally drops her arms and retreats into the muted cool of her condo, leaving the door open for Bodhi to come in.

This was easier when Hunter was only in Porter Island for the summer, four years of summer months working at one of her mom’s restaurants while she finished school. There was an end date, and Bodhi didn’t have to worry about what Hunter might want after that. Or what she wanted.

“How did the hatching go?” Hunter sits in a hard-backed leather chair, her arms and legs crossed. Hunter’s inherited home decor has always made Bodhi think of a law office waiting room, all heavy wood and leather and polished chrome. Such a contrast to Bodhi’s moms’ colorful bohemian vibe, or the kitschy beach-themed cottage she shares with Willa. The entire condo came as a gift, furniture and decor and everything, a life already chosen for Hunter.

“Good. Kea asked me to join their volunteer corps again.” Bodhi sprawls across the couch, her thighs stick to the black leather.

“You should.”

Bodhi shrugs. Hunter thinks she should do a lot of things. Bodhi sighs and stretches, her t-shirt and shorts bunch up, her hair falls loosely across her face. She knows what she’s doing, and it works. Hunter’s gaze shifts from exasperation to clear desire, and Bodhi wishes they could just keep things the same between them. It’s hot and fun and easy. Why does it have to get complicated just because Hunter moved here? “Look, Hunter. We’ve talked about this. I’m not looking for...” She leaves the statement unfinished because what is she looking for? A time machine? A way to capture the perfect summer fling and put it up somewhere for safekeeping, like fireflies captured in a jar?  

“I’m aware.” Hunter’s lips press flat, her eyes flick away. She gets Bodhi. It’s too much, sometimes. “And I’m not asking you to.”

Bodhi sits up. “Okay, then… Okay.”

Sea turtles bury their eggs deep in the sand, Bodhi told the two kids she’d befriended yesterday. They stayed all night and, enraptured, watched the hatchlings take to the sea. Buried so deep that by the time the babies hatch and claw their way to the surface the mama turtle is long gone, far out to sea. One of the kids asked, eyes wide with hope, if they ever find each other, if they might meet up out in the ocean one day. The ocean is too big, their sibling answered, matter of fact. So, so huge it’s impossible. But Bodhi wondered if maybe they did. Despite the odds, perhaps they could find each other someday.

Bodhi stands and offers her hand, reaching out across the expanse. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Hunter looks up. “You should have.”

“Yeah.” She should do a lot of things.

Hunter takes her hand and rises from the stiff chair, lips pouted and shoulders high. Bodhi tugs her close and kisses her until she stops frowning. Hunter releases a long breath and her body relaxes into Bodhi’s arms. She’s pliable and willing, and so Bodhi walks them to the bedroom and pulls off first Hunter’s clothes and then her own. She’s been with Hunter so many times that the taste of her is like coming home. She knows what makes Hunter sigh or moan or fist the sheets at her side or clutch fruitlessly at the carved oak headboard and it should bore Bodhi but it doesn’t at all. Being with Hunter, in bed or out, is easy. Why change that?

It’s quiet after, a heavy quiet, with Hunter curled at Bodhi’s side. Her fingers drift idly across Bodhi’s stomach.

“I applied to graduate school,” Hunter says, voice gone sex-rough. She clears her throat. “At UNC Wilmington, but also other schools that are… Well, farther away. My mom wants me to get serious about taking a regional manager position with the restaurant group. So. I wanted you to know that.”

“Cool,” Bodhi says. Her chest goes tight. “That’s chill.”

Hunter’s hand moves from Bodhi’s stomach, and she rolls away to find her clothes. “Ryan’s having a party tonight if you want—”

“Yeah, definitely.”

She met Hunter at a party like this one, with camping chairs gathered haphazardly around a fire, sand turned orange from the glow, the ocean so dark it bleeds into the sky, impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Silhouettes move across the beach—dancing, laughing, tipsily leaning on one another. It seems to Bodhi as if she knows every single person on this island and has gone home with many of them and it’s so simple for her. It’s fun, like kayaking or sailing or free-falling off of a pier. She doesn’t need labels or relationships or complications. Or at least, she didn’t.

Hunter stays at her side all night, warm and happy. Bodhi keeps her arm slung around Hunter’s hips, a possessive gesture she rarely feels the need to make. She wants to keep her close by is all.

“I’m gonna get another,” Hunter says, waving an empty can in the air. Bodhi blames her own too many empties for tugging Hunter in close and kissing the top of her head. “Hurry back,” Bodhi says. She’s a very affectionate drunk, so she’s been told.

“Hey! Tell your girlfriend to bring her keg tap over!” Ryan is a loud drunk.

Bodhi ignores the first part. “What idiot is dragging a keg down the beach?”

“Me!” Ryan is fun, but… Well, he’s fun.

It’s not late, but Bodhi is already considering packing it in for the night. She’d rather stay in and hang out at Hunter’s, watch TV, smoke a bowl or two. God, she is getting old. If they leave to go get the keg tap, it’s very unlikely she’ll want to return. “Sorry, dude. Not tonight.”

Ryan boos at her and quickly gets distracted by someone who announces they brought vodka. Hunter returns and together they watch the vodka quickly disappear.

The party really is so much like the one where she met Hunter, and like so many more before that, and yet even Bodhi has to admit that it’s changing. Some people have moved on, and younger, wide-eyed and innocent faces have taken their place. The number of friends who have traded partying for jobs that have them up before sunrise is steadily growing, some even with new engagements and recently signed mortgages and 401Ks. Even Ryan is starting medical school in the fall. The guy who once did ten fireball shots in a row and had the brilliant idea to surf on the top of someone’s Jeep, fell off and found out two days later that he broke his arm in three places will be a doctor.

And next to go will be Hunter. Bodhi tugs her in close again.

+++

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

Bodhi is barely two steps into the marina when Mr. Kelley accosts her. “Why does everyone think we’re together?” Even her footsteps on the floating dock sound petulant, a sulking slap slap slap. Mr Kelley shrugs. He’s the owner of the marina next door to her parent’s sailing shop, and a family friend.

“I suppose you have a— You’re vibing.”

Bodhi pauses. “Mr. Kelley did you really say ‘vibing’?”

“I have nieces and nephews,” he defends. He’s white-haired and sun-worn with a slow, drawling accent and a heart of gold. “Anywho, let’s get to work.”

Once every summer, Mr. Kelley moves the long-time dockers and rental boats into a dry dock to scrape off the coatings of barnacles that have attached to the hulls, and after, applies a coating to slow the accumulation of the sticky little crustaceans. It’s difficult, dirty, exhausting work that Bodhi refuses to let Mr. Kelley do by himself.

“The bane of my existence,” Mr. Kelley says as they set to work on the first hull, while seawater still sluices off in rivulets. They’re definitely a nuisance, the barnacles, as they not only look unsightly but cause significant drag in the water and a waste of fuel in motorized vessels. Bodhi thinks they’re kinda neat, though.

“What’s really cool is like, their adhesive is one of the strongest substances on Earth. The tensile strength is crazy.”

Mr. Kelley grunts. “I believe it.”

They’re also super important to the ocean’s ecosystem since they clean the water like crusty little filters. They also eat with their legs and have the largest penis relative to body size of any animal. So that’s something. Which reminds her…

“Mr. Kelley,” Bodhi calls out over the frantic scraping. “How about you? Any new men you want to dish about?”

“Bah,” he says. “Men.” Which Bodhi takes as a no. Mr. Kelley spends all of his time out on this marina. Unless the perfect man comes sailing in one day and sweeps him off his feet, it’s never gonna happen. Bodhi tried to get him to join a dating app, but he waved her off and claimed he was too old.

Bodhi doesn’t bring it up again until they’ve finished one boat and started working on another. Her arms and shoulders are already sore, but in a good way.

“Let me set you up with someone.”

He sprays off his scraper with the hose, cups some fresh water in his hands, and splashes it on his face. “What is it you told me, Miss Bodhi? Love looks like a lot of things?” He sweeps his arms out toward the marina, the ocean, the sky. “What if this is my great love?”

Bodhi can’t argue with that. She could see herself ending up the same way, her love of the natural world around her could be enough to fill her heart. The thing is, though, she has strong feelings for Hunter. She can admit that. But what she wants to do with those feelings is the issue. She doesn’t really do monogamy and as much as she admires and appreciates her moms’ super-solid relationship, she just doesn’t think it’s for her. And so she’s at a fork in the road: be with Hunter, settle down, commit; or accept that Hunter will be the one that got away. Which can she live with?

The sun is sharp on her skin, sweat pools in her clavicles and between her shoulder blades and settles damply in the waistband of her shorts. She mops her face with the end of her shirt and takes a water break.

“Can I ask you, like. A totally non-judgmental question?”

Mr. Kelley’s face is red from exertion and the heat. He raises his eyebrows and comes to sit on the dock pile next to the one she’s perched on. “Okay, shoot.”

“Are you happy?” It seems like a rude question, but she thinks Mr. Kelley will understand what she means. He’s way chill for an old dude. “Like, actually happy out here alone, doing your own thing? Or would you trade it for something else— Or like, someone else?”

Mr. Kelley is thoughtful as he re-hydrates, then he sets his water bottle on the dock with a decisive thunk. “You get to be my age, Miss Bodhi, and you come to understand that some things just are what they are.”

Bodhi nods, squinting into the sun. “Yeah.” She feels like that now.

“Even still,” he continues. “You have but this one, bitty life to live and if you aren’t living in pursuit of the things—and the people—that make you happy, then what’s the point?” He fixes his pale blue eyes on her, somehow getting to the root of Bodhi’s question. “She makes you happy.”

Bodhi shifts on the dock pile, as if trying to move away from the accuracy of the statement. She nods again. “Yeah. She does.”

He stands with some effort and creakily picks up his barnacle scraper. Next year, she’s bringing other people to help with the operation; Mr. Kelley is going to seriously injure himself one of these days. Not that he’d let that stop him. “Then don’t be afraid to imagine what a life of happiness could look like with her. As you said yourself, love looks like a lot of things.”

Bodhi hops up to follow him back to the partially de-barnacled boat. “I have to say, I do not appreciate you using my words of wisdom against me Mr. Kelley.”

Hunter comes over that night, for sex and for dinner and to get stoned, in that order. Bodhi watches her cook linguine with clam sauce and allows herself to imagine it: Hunter there every morning, that faux-hawk bed-head her hair forms itself into and the way she always, very first thing, stumbles mostly asleep to the kitchen for a glass of water. She’s always parched when she wakes up but refuses to keep a water bottle by the bed because she claims it isn’t fresh enough. Bodhi imagines Hunter there to kiss her goodbye when she goes off to the sail shop or to sail or hike or kayak, Hunter there to greet her when she gets home. Dinner together every night. Regular dates with the same person. Regular sex with the same person.

Bodhi can easily use the blueprint of her parents’ incredible marriage to construct a healthy relationship of her own. She knows it takes sacrifice and selflessness and a willingness to put Hunter’s needs and wants in step with her own, always. Ahead of her own, even. But can that fit in with Bodhi’s more fluid definition of commitment? Would Hunter be okay with that? And what if she wants something Bodhi can’t give her?

Hunter sets two plates of food out on the table and gives Bodhi a concerned look before sitting down. “You okay?”

What if Bodhi is too selfish and too afraid of being constrained? If there were anyone that she could see a settled future with, it would be Hunter. If. Bodhi picks up her fork and plasters on a smile. “Definitely. Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Your turn next.”

Bodhi fake-smiles harder. “So have you heard from any of those grad programs yet?”

+++

Bodhi has spent the last two weeks at Hunter’s side, at Hunter’s condo, living out of a backpack that contains a toothbrush and two entire outfits that Bodhi swaps back and forth. She uses Hunter’s deodorant and shampoo and toothpaste and hairbrush until Hunter picks up extras for Bodhi at the store and stashes them all in an emptied out drawer. Bodhi spends a long time looking at that drawer. Her drawer. That she has at Hunter’s house.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to live with anyone,” Bodhi says one night while they watch a movie. She’s draped over Bodhi, legs entwined, her head rests on Bodhi’s chest and her arm is snug around Bodhi’s waist. Hunter shifts a little, presses a kiss right above Bodhi’s sternum. “Okay,” she says. It’s to her credit, Bodhi thinks, that she doesn’t full-out laugh in Bodhi’s face.

One morning, they wake up before dawn to go hiking. Bodhi wakes first, rubs her eyes with both hands and nudges Hunter awake with her foot. Hunter sits up, groggy and mussed, and blinks into the darkness for a while. She grunts and, predictably, stumbles to the kitchen for her morning glass of water. Bodhi’s stomach twists with a deep pull of affection. She makes Hunter eggs and toast with fruit and packs a backpack and they sail out as the sun is beginning to skim the edge of the stretch ocean behind the condo complex.

The trails out on the North Carolina coast are all flat, easy walks; certainly no comparison to the rigorous mountain trails on the other side of the state. But as much as Bodhi likes the challenge of mountain hikes, there’s something special about the maritime forest trails. When they arrive on a different Outer Banks island for their day’s adventure, the hike takes them from the ocean, up the sparsely populated beach, around though the soft dunes, down onto a long boardwalk built over a salt marsh, and on into the woods. Bodhi always marvels at how these towering trees of pine and holly and oak and maple can not only survive but thrive in such a place; how it grows from nothing but shifting sand, withstands harsh winds and hurricanes and sea spray and flooding, and has found a home for thousands of years on a little sliver of an island. She tells Hunter as much.

“The beauty of nature,” Hunter says, offering Bodhi a sip from her water bottle. “Stand back, trust that things will unfold as they should, and amazing things happen.”

Bodhi doesn’t call her out on the obvious metaphor.

On their way out of the trail’s loop, they encounter an older couple looking a bit bewildered. They pass by, then Bodhi doubles back.

“Afternoon.” They’re both wearing khaki safari hats, cargo shorts, and multi-pocketed khaki vests. One of them has binoculars slung over a shoulder, the other has a camera with a huge zoom lens.

“Awesome day for a hike, right?” Bodhi has found that asking people if they’re lost or need help rarely works. People don’t like to admit that they don’t know what they’re doing, even if they’re tourists who have obviously never been here before. But if she waits, they’ll usually bring it up on their own.

“Oh, yes. Hot though!”

Bodhi mmhmms

“Say, can you tell us if this is the Fort Macon Trail?”

“It is,” Bodhi says. “And you can start in this direction because it’s a loop, but if you want the full experience, start from the beach and head into the forest that way. Make sure you follow the trees with white dots once you’re under the canopy, the trail isn’t super obvious in some places.” They thank her and head into the woods first anyway. She waves, walking backward as she adds, because she has a hunch, “Keep an eye out for Painted Buntings! They migrate through here this time of year.”

They give each other a wide-eyed look of excitement and Bodhi smiles as she turns away. She knows a birdwatcher when she sees one, and the colorful member of the cardinal family is a unique find.

“They’re a threatened species,” she tells Hunter once she catches up to her. Hunter’s face reminds Bodhi of the time she studied for something for once in her life and got third place in a spelling bee and her moms sat in the front row, cheering as if Bodhi had received the Nobel Prize. “What?” Bodhi squints at her.

“Nothing, you’re—” She slips her hand into Bodhi’s hand even though it’s sweaty. “You’re good at that. How you share nature with people.”

Bodhi looks away and mumbles, “I only told them about a bird.” It’s not a big deal.

Hunter shrugs, the motion tugs Bodhi’s hand up and down. “Okay,” she says.

Hunter has left the brochures from various schools sitting out on her coffee table for weeks now. Bodhi has looked at them a few times in the same way she kept looking at the drawer of her stuff in Hunter’s house. It’s hers for the taking, so simple, just reach out and grab the hairbrush, Bodhi. Just open the brochure. Just claim what you want already. After their hike, back at Hunter’s condo, while Hunter is in the shower, Bodhi takes a breath and flips a brochure open.

Downtown Porter Island gets crowded as soon as the weather starts to warm, though “downtown” is a very generous term for two streets and a parking lot. Bodhi and Hunter and Bodhi’s Mom and Ma get ice cream cones and find an empty picnic table, baked from the sun, and try to eat faster than the ice cream melts.

“So, Hunter. How are we feeling about grad school? Excited? Nervous? Concerned that you may be only doing this because of the weight of your mother’s expectations?”

“Jeez, Ma. Sometimes the former high school guidance counselor in you really jumps right out.”

Robin gives a pained smile. “Sorry. Only making sure.”

Hunter licks around her ice cream cone and nods. “Actually, I’m excited. UNCW has a solid business management program and I think the job will suit me. I get to travel, meet new people. I’ll be stuck in an office a lot but…” She slides a knowing look to Bodhi. “I’m sure I’ll still spend lots of time enjoying the outdoors.”

Bodhi’s lemon sorbet gets a little stuck as she swallows.

“And it’s not too far,” Jenn, Bodhi’s mom, adds, likely for Bodhi’s benefit. “A quick ferry ride and a drive south a bit.” She pats Hunter’s arm. “Though of course we’ll miss seeing you all the time!” Bodhi swears she emphasizes the words all the time on purpose, also intended for Bodhi.

Hunter’s ice cream drips from the bottom of the cone, first a few drops, but then the soggy cone breaks away and a puddle of blueberry cheesecake quickly pools onto the table. “Shoot,” Hunter raises her sticky hands. “I’m gonna go get some napkins.”

“I’ll help,” Robin says.

As soon as they’re a few steps away, Jenn raises her eyebrows. “So.”

“So,” Bodhi repeats. She quietly eats her ice cream just long enough to bug her. If her Ma had stayed instead, she’d have been totally grilled by now, but Jenn likes to take the good cop role, usually. Bodhi spares her. “UNCW has a forestry degree.”

Her mom’s face plainly says she’s trying very hard not to react to that. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Mmmhmm.” Bodhi crunches into her cone. “It is so.”

Her mom pokes around her own cup of chocolate peanut butter cup with a wooden spoon. “You know, I was wondering how you were planning on handling the long distance relationship thing.”

Bodhi shakes her head. “We’re not in a relationship.”

“Enlighten me then,” her mom says. “What are you?” There’s no intent to argue there, only genuine curiosity and Bodhi can understand why. Even she isn’t sure how to define it, or if she ever really wants to. She’s come to realize that’s okay.

“She’s just— My person.” How else to explain it?

Jenn considers this, tips her head and swirls her ice cream thoughtfully. “Okay. I get that. And I’m excited for you, too. I think forestry is perfect for you, if you decide to pursue that. You know we always support you one-hundred percent, love.”

She does know it.

Hunter and her other mom are heading back, Bodhi watches them talk and laugh as they cross the street and it’s weird, it’s like her heart is bigger; stronger and brighter in her chest.

“I think it’s perfect, too.”

“And Hunter? Is she aware of how you feel?”

Bodhi doesn’t look away from Hunter’s approach, how right Bodhi’s life is when she’s around, how Hunter just knows somehow. “She does.”

She figured it out long before Bodhi ever did.

+++

It’s raining the day of the big protest in Wilmington. Fat drops of it make steam rise from the pavement as they all gather in place. Bodhi is sweltering inside of her raincoat. It does nothing to deter Bodhi and the other protesters, though, if anything it’s spurring them on. This is nature; it’s not always convenient. That’s the whole point.

The school is moving forward with plans to bulldoze an old-growth pine forest on the edge of campus to make way for a new practice field. Hunter has joined some other protesters in locking arms and forming a human blockade between the trees and bulldozers. Bodhi wasn’t crazy about her being directly in harm's way, but Hunter acknowledged Bodhi’s concerns and did what she knew was right anyway. And that’s what Bodhi loves about her.

“Did you know longleaf pine forests used to be one of the most extensive ecosystems across the South?” Bodhi offers a flyer to the small group scurrying by between classes. It’s fifty-fifty if anyone will take the flyer detailing the importance of pine forests and why they’re trying to save this one, and another one-out-three odds the flyer will end up directly in a trash can nearby. But Bodhi figures that's about one in six people who will read it and possibly be moved to join their cause. “And it’s also home to many plants and animals who don't live anywhere else in the world.”

Behind her, the bulldozers rumble.

“The forest you see behind me is nearly five hundred years old!” Aleksi, the leader of this and many other protests shouts through a megaphone. They have a shaved head and face full of piercings and the confidence and carriage of a leader. “It is home to at least thirty endangered species! Now I ask you, students, faculty, staff, esteemed guests, is this really worth sacrificing in order to give the athletic department yet another piece of our beautiful campus?”

The bulldozers finally leave at 7:30. The already gloomy day has grown darker. Everyone is exhausted and hungry and the construction crew will return the next morning, but the mood among all the protesters is jubilant. “The forest stands another day!” Aleksi calls, and everyone cheers. It’s decided that they’ll reconvene at a nearby vegan burrito place to celebrate and plan for tomorrow.

“I think I stared down that one construction worker for three solid hours,” Hunter laughs, lifting an umbrella someone gave her, a little too late, over both of their heads. Bodhi unzips her steamy raincoat.

“You were amazing.” Bodhi flaps her open raincoat in Hunter’s direction, trying futilely to dry her off even as the rain still splashes up from the pavement.

“Thanks.” Hunter drops a kiss on her lips. “Someone who was on the on the front line with me lives on campus and said they have some clothes I can borrow. Be right back.”

Bodhi watches her. An enormous part of her reluctance to commit to, well, anything, was because she was already happy. And what if she changed things and then she wasn’t happy? If it ain’t broke and all. But things change anyway, and like a fjord in a river, she might as well have some input on the direction of her own life. Nature is always changing, life is always and she has to learn when to change with it, and when to fight for the things that matter,

Aleski, in a black trench coat and black combat boots, approaches Bodhi. “Hey, I appreciate you two coming out. Hunter’s really a force, huh? Only quietly.” Aleksi laughs and Bodhi is fully drawn into their aura. Like, they’re super hot anyway, but it’s the charisma that really does it for Bodhi.

“Yeah, she’s something.” If Bodhi is a swiftly moving river, Hunter is a steady stream: under-appreciated and gentle, yet strong and steady enough to cut through a mountain.

Aleksi leans in, eyes lowered, intentions clear. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,” Bodhi says. Aleksi’s eyebrows lift. “She’s more than that.”

“Ah.”

Even now, Bodhi can’t quite put a label on their relationship, or if either of them ever really want to. It’s meant that Bodhi has to be more open and vulnerable, and Hunter more demanding of what she wants from Bodhi. Whatever it is, the two of them, it works. They love each other, they’re on the same page, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

Aleksi shifts away, their stoic face covering the sting of rejection.

“We’re usually open to a third, though.” Bodhi offers. Plenty of people aren’t really into that and that’s fine. Bodhi puts it out there only as an offer, nothing more. She’ll have to check in with Hunter first, anyway. Though Hunter’s gaze for Aleksi has been nothing short of awe and infatuation—and desire—from the moment the two of them met.

“Like a package deal?” Aleksi clarifies. They smile. It’s awfully charming. “I could be into that.”

Hunter appears from behind a building, now dry and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. Bodhi’s heart soars. It’s incredible, Bodhi thinks. How rich her life has become by being open to love in all of its forms. Romantic love, sure. But love for her friends and family and the world around her. Although her path there has been a little erratic, adrift for a while in her own life and mind, in the end she got there.

Hunter holds her hand and, on the other side, Aleksi presses in close. Despite the heat and the rain and the exhausting day, Bodhi is buoyant. Her spirit is free.

And they will save that forest. Guaranteed.

Tack & Jibe