#chaotic worl

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[literaila]

Besides stealing a car (😭) are there any other shenanigans reader and satoru get involved with at tech?

mostly just the typical ruining of all of the vibes with their constant bantering. like… if suguru and satoru are a bad (chaotic) combination—satoru and you???

it doesn’t matter where either of you are. satoru will inevitably find a way to get you involved, and you will put a hex on him for it.

he finds a flower (weed) in the courtyard? it’s basically a bouquet he’s going to shove in your face during the middle of sparing. you intentionally choose the opposite end of the couch in haibara’s room? satoru is throwing a temper tantrum and you’re both being kicked out.

you’ll stand outside the door, arms already crossed.

defensiveness is your most natural state. around satoru, at least. “you’re going to get us alienated from all of our friends.”

“human words, please.”

you scoff, kicking his leg, and then moving a foot away when he stands next to you. “i can’t believe you got me kicked out of another movie night.”

“you’re the one who was talking.”

“because you kept poking me in the side with your foot!”

“sorry some of us aren’t two inches tall.”

“you’re a giant. you need to learn to respect other people’s space, gojo. isn’t that like your whole thing?”

satoru only moves closer again, infinity be damned.

your first interaction was filled with the eons of space between the two of you, the invisible barrier that separated satoru from everyone else.

but after that? it was only atoms apart.

satoru seems inclined to break psychics, as long as he can irritate you by standing so close.

how do you know this? because he’s still wearing that devilish smile that brings you incapable of movement.

“i like being close to you,” he’ll whisper, and what’s the point of arguing any more?

so you stand there right next to him. movie night sucks anyway.

and eventually it gets to the point where all of their friends are constantly ignoring every interaction you have.

except for poor nanami, who doesn’t understand why he has to deal with idiots all of the time. like, seriously. what did he do to deserve it?

as the (self proclaimed) mature one, nanami is in constant dismay over the lack of emotional intelligence and communication between the two of you.

(even at twenty. when you and him reconnect after his defection, nanami is fully expecting to have missed the wedding. he’s going to pay the price for running away, after all.

what he’s not expecting is truckloads of denial and the fact that the two of you are living together, raising children together, and still feigning friendship.

as if the two of you know the first thing about being a worthwhile friend.

it’s a good thing shoko can hold her liquor—because nanami kento has worked too goddamn hard to deal with it alone).

there’s sneaking out late at night, being the errand runners for everyone else, staying in each others rooms even when you’re not allowed.

yaga has aged several years during the first six months that you’re at jujutsu high. and he thought satoru alone was bad enough.

but by far the most annoying thing that occurs when you’re together is satoru’s version of a game.

he learned early on just how jumpy you were. satoru accidentally leans in a little bit too close? you’re flinching until you’re an arms length away. suguru simply walks into a room—with his quiet, catlike movements—you’re gasping when you hear this voice.

but the most amusing part to gojo, of course, is what happens that only he can see.

everyone else assumes that you’re simply startled. and you are, but to a certain degree no one would guess unless they were standing too close.

your cursed technique is inherently defensive, and after a childhood of cowering away from mere specks of dust, it’s not your fault that you instinctively protect yourself from disguised threats.

and it’s not your fault that when someone accidentally scares you, there’s an immediate wall between you and the rest of the world.

a wall that no one, except for one person, can see.

until you meet satoru that is.

and once he realizes what it is, what the cause is—oh boy, he’s running with it.

you’re walking next to shoko? satoru is tiptoeing to your side, and he only whispers a soft “boo,” in your ear.

but it’s enough that when you take a step forward, shoko is running into something that wasn’t there a moment ago.

she groans, and you look around—confused and concerned—and satoru runs away before either of you can manage to catch him.

it’s definitely funnier when he does it and nanami is standing too close to you, though.

it’s a mere game, a little entertainment for the honored one.

and then it turns into something more.

satoru is wrapping an arm around your waist in public—to get a cute little jump out of you, sure—but also so that no one can walk too close to you. no one but him, because infinity cancels out your technique, and satoru never lets you get far.

you’re sitting next to him during a movie night you haven’t been exiled from, and when the dumb horror movie someone (haibara) put on manages to scare you, satoru is blinking at the almost translucent guard your mind puts up.

you can’t relax after that, but he sure as hell can. satoru wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer—and you can’t even argue (because you’re not standing outside with him again).

and maybe it takes a minute, but your technique is relinquished within eighty seconds of him moving over.

satoru basks in it.

he’s always loved being special—but he loves it even more when it’s applied to you. there’s a exponential growth to the pride he takes in soothing you.

but that’s not important. it means nothing, really.

and don’t worry, because it doesn’t end when both you and satoru have graduated.

sure, nanami and shoko and suguru aren’t there to witness (groan) at your bantering, your scheming, your constant running around each other—a stupid little game of cat and mouse.

but they’ve got some welcome replacements.

after a month megumi would rather die than listen to gojo try and be nice to you while you scowl at him. after a year, megumi is trying to get in the middle of it—mostly because he likes how freaky gojo looks when he’s annoyed.

tsumiki thinks it’s cute, though. for the first two years, that is.

[feverdreamjohnny]

Orbo's Odyssey - Post Mortem

My Feelings About The Game

It's an odd thing to try and pull together your thoughts about something so chaotic.

I guess it'd be easier to just catalogue how my emotions evolved as the project went on, and then wrap it up by trying to pull apart how I feel now, as arcane as that is.

I've been a part of a private developer community for a bit now, and during a majority of my time there I felt sort of like a fish out of water. I guess it was just weird seeing people at the top of their craft while my work sort of paled in comparison. A majority of them had a background in developing character action games or platformers with intricate movement systems, and that was absolutely outside the range of what I understood.

Late 2022 I decided to try and make a movement system with a really strong focus on momentum so I could feel "at home" with the other devs. So I made a small tech demo where most of Orbo's moveset was formed.

In the end it didn't really make me feel more confident in my work, but at least I proved to myself that I could tackle unfamiliar waters and make headway. Regardless, I left the tech demo where it was and continued to work on Nowhere, MI for the next few months.

I made a lot of progress on Nowhere, and around late November a publisher reached out to me to offer help. I was desperate, after all. I didn't have a lot of money to my name and this was the kind of lifeline I needed to secure so I could finish the game.

To cut a long story short, they kept delaying talks about the game over and over and it became increasingly clear to me that my dream of being funded wasn't going to happen.

I was sort of in a bad spot now. It was early 2023 at this point, and I was going to have to make a tough decision: delay Nowhere and get a retail job to make money (potentially losing sight of the project in the process), or find some other solution to secure funding. No other publishers were going to pick me up (and I really didn't trust a majority of them so I only had my sights set on a handful I felt I could trust), so I came to a new conclusion:

What if I just made something short, say in the span of a month or two, and sell it? Surely that would be easy.

Surely.

The Game

In March of 2023, I began working on the game. I wasn't sure what sort of format I wanted for the game at first, and I had initially considered a rogue-like arena combat game where you'd use the game's momentum mechanics to fight enemies, collect upgrades to improve your abilities, rinse and repeat.

The idea ended up feeling sort of strange when I began pre-production, so I ended up scrapping it.

I thought about the movement system some more and realized that it had a strange kinship to a game I had played just a month earlier: Super Kiwi 64.

Then I thought about Siactro's other games, how they were similarly small-scope platformers that seemed to perform well on Steam and Switch, and I realized that if there was something that would suit my own development style (focused around exploration and secrets), it was a 3D platformer.

The first month was fairly strong. I moved at lightning-speed, hammering systems into the game piece by piece. Collectables were done. Time trials (and their records) were done. Movement had been refined further and felt better than in the initial tech demo. There was also a lot of underlying structuring that I won't get into because it's boring (but important).

About a week in I even started working with my friend Tim (who's a professional environment artist), and we began working together on the hub environment (we brainstormed the layout, I designed the greybox, and he wrapped it up with the environment art).

It was going great, but as March was nearing its end I began to realize what I was dealing with.

"Oh, well yeah I mean I knew it wasn't going to be possible in a month! I'm sure if I grit my teeth it'll be done by the end of April!"

So April came along. Tim and I finished the hub area, I got the world portals set up, and eventually we moved to the first level of the game, Shlarp City.

Tim managed to get a decent chunk of the decorative props done, but circumstances were changing and he had a fulltime job in the industry to attend to, so he had to leave the project.

I reasoned "well, I sort of know how to do environment art and I guess I can just go on without help."

Shlarp's greybox was done, and I was sort of happy about the layout. Some friends playtested the game and liked the movement, so I felt a bit more optimistic about the project.

Despite the boost in optimism, I was starting to feel some kind of dread leaking in. My nights were becoming more frantic and troubled, more than they already had been.

I moved onto the next level, reasoning that it'd be best to get the greyboxes for all of the levels finished first, then return for an art pass afterwards. It was the sensible thing to do, after all.

So I began work on Dunbarrow Mines, and this time I was alone. I finished the greybox, and while I wasn't a huge fan of the level, at least it was done. I moved onto Sleepytime Manor and similarly got the greybox finished. Even since the beginning of the month, something was starting to grow inside of me. April was coming to a close, and I still had another level to greybox, a boss fight, secret areas to add, and an art pass on the entire thing. I hadn't really developed much of a game at that point, just 3 barren levels.

And so May came along.

And this was where it all went to hell.

I had been suffering from a lot of issues in my personal life for a while. The year prior had been particularly traumatic and the waves coming from it weren't done passing over yet. If anything the terror was that the major event from the last year hadn't even finished coming to fruition. The stress from everything had caused me to develop a disorder that made my blood acidic, melting away at my nerves. I fought hard and managed to improve my health, but the damage was done and the occasional return of the neuropathy was just a reminder that my life was spiraling downward.

I entered a period of intense stress and depression as waves of terrible memories came over me. I became neurotic. Started having trouble designing levels. It was already an issue for me, but as my mental state deteriorated I was hitting brick walls over and over.

I had my back against the wall. Game development was my only purpose in life, after all. I had been built for it, sacrificed so many hours to it, put everything else aside for it. The only thought going through my head was that I was dying, and that this stupid game was going to be my graveyard.

So roughly two months came by, with sparing work on the game. I finished Monolith station, but it had to be redesigned 3 times to reach the version you currently see in the game today.

The neurosis made me insane. Constantly seeing my peers succeeding while I flailed desperately in a pit was definitely not helping matters.

But something changed in June.

The Garden

I always had an on-and-off again relationship with plants. I had a sort of preternatural skill with growing things, but my interest waxed and waned a lot. The main thing that stuck through this on-and-off relationship were herbs, since they were easy to cultivate and they needed very little maintenance during the periods where I was losing interest.

As I began to take game development more seriously around halfway into 2021, I stopped gardening entirely.

But something very strange happened in the June of 2023. I was frantically compelled to return to it. I raked, toiled and weeded until I had a plot. Then I started buying seeds and began cultivating vegetables again for the first time in 2 years.

And for the first time in this nightmare I was finally happy about something. I don't know what compelled me to start cultivating plants again, but whatever it was, it rescued me from a very long, dark road.

After 2 weeks, I finally finished the final boss of Orbo's Odyssey.

The game needed a lot more work, but I was finally getting a foothold after months of misery.

Eventually my friend Ben was able to help me with the project, and we made a lot of headway. We brainstormed new ideas for how the player could get gear parts. He modeled a load of props. I scripted a load of systems. Finally, the game actually began to look like a game.

Ben was really important. He was optimistic about the project and wasn't suffering from burnout the way I did, and he helped me get out of my fugue. I can't thank him enough for his help.

After around half a year of hammering, we finished the game.

3 weeks after that, we released it to steam.

And about 2 weeks after the release, we're here now.

The Takeaway

Typically in post-mortems you talk about what you would've done differently, but I think this ending might be a bit different.

I'm not really proud of the level design. I think I also could've done better with my share of the environment art in some levels. I think there could've been more details. I think there could've been more content.

But there's no use kicking myself for what could've been. Of course the next game will be better. The mental state I was in during the development of this game was dire and it had a major impact on the quality of my work. I had to break out of a really bad mindset and try to find a better way of engaging with my life. That wasn't easy.

I think some gamers like to imagine that something that's fun to play was fun to make. It's true that sometimes there are moments where you get excited during game development, but at the end of the day the majority of it is just pure work and toil.

In the end, the reviews on Orbo were very kind. Even the negative reviews were at bare minimum sorta funny.

Hilariously the reviews that bothered me the most were actually positive. The perspective of these reviews was that the game was really the story of some little kid taking his thumb out of his mouth and naively making something he thought was fun. It mainly felt like a way for the reviewers to excuse the weaker elements of the game.

These are the reviews I hate the most. I don't care that they were positive. They're infantilizing. It makes it come across as though the shoddier elements of the game weren't a product of a person having a mental breakdown, but of a child smacking blocks together and making mistakes because he didn't know better.

If you really view art like that, I want you to lean in very closely and listen: Most of the time, people suffered to make something you could enjoy. You're welcome to praise or shun the art by itself, but don't patronize the creator for their effort. I didn't have fun making Orbo. I hated it. And even though I hated it I still tried to put passion into it, because I care about my work.

Anyway I'm glad it's over with. If I attempted to develop the game now it would probably be significantly better, but that's mostly because I've found better methods of managing my mental health.

I have to get back to work on Nowhere, and eventually I have to work on Peeb Adventures. For now, though, I'm taking a break. I'm tired.

Before I go I just want to thank some people.

Thank you Ben for being supportive and helping me make this game happen. I couldn't have done it without you, and I mean it.

Thank you Socpens and Grayfruit for streaming the game and for your kind words. It really means a lot to me, and it gave me a lot more confidence about Orbo's Odyssey post-release.

Thank you Tim for helping early on. I know it was a brief period between us, but I do appreciate the work you did.

Thank you (in no particular order) Bryce, Simone, Jett, Aaron, Quinn, Drew, Ian, and Cosme for being supportive of my work.

Thank you for the folks in the private dev server who were particularly supportive as well.

Thanks for reading.

[hungry-monkey]

So. um. my singing monsters. au. fanfiction. im gay guys.

ive been having this au for a while now but seeing other msm au's (PLUSHII AND BEAR IM LOOKING RIGHT AT YALL /POS) gave me the motivation and inspiration to finally put my gay creatures on the internet

anyway its called Hideaway

this is part one ig jbfdsjsosj

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit fuck shit piss. Fuck. Shit."

The peacefulness of plant island was obsolete at this point. The reason why? Monopoly. It was a strange practice introduced by humans in their more recent comings to the realm of the Monstrous. The strange hairless creatures had brought a lot of suffering, but new joys were discovered as well. This was not one of them.

"Dixxie you piece of shit. YOU LANDED ON MY GODDAMN PROPERTY. GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY DIPSHIT." Auro, an epic furcorn who was clearly not having good luck in this round, was ranting about how Dixxie wasn't following the rules of the game. The shrubb was obviously not listening. "Auro, that counts as mugging me you know," she said with a smug grin. "NO IT FUCKING DOESN'T??? WHAT ??" Auro was making a scene about how he was about to flip the board, to the annoyance of the others, when a voice stopped them.

"Guys, can you please uh, be quieter? I keep getting startled by your yelling and it's messing up my work and--"

"Shut the fuck up Ricky. Do your work someplace else, I'm too busy getting fucking mugged by Auro."

"STOP FUCKING SAYING THAT, I WILL BITE YOU."

"Ahem: Nuh uh."

"Uhh.. O-okie dokie then. Yeah. ...Goodbye."

Ricky decided it wasn't a good idea to stay in the commotion. Just the thought of staying there made him more anxious and made his face reflexively wince. It's funny that humans believe the concept that 4-element monsters are the commanders or rulers of their home islands. And then, we have Ricky. Entbrats are usually loud, obnoxious, confident, and not always the brightest of the bunch. But Ricky was the opposite from his peers. A socially anxious but highly intelligent monster. He walked and walked for what felt like forever, past corner stores, a hospital, and a school. His cabin was small, but it was his little world. This was what he saw when he isolated himself from the other monsters. It was safe here. It was warm, and comforting, along with the fact that he could conduct his studies in peace. What did he even study? Who fucking knows. Some nerdy science biology fucking shit. Fucking nerd. Fucking goober. He had just sat down when something struck his mind.

Usha!

He needed to feed his pet bird. The plant island critters need to eat a lot to survive with their small, frail bodies. And Usha in particular was very, very fussy when she was hungry. The critters are also just loud and chaotic in general. It's a wonder how he even managed to tame one and convince her to stay with him. He didn't like the human concept of keeping your pet companions in cages and confining them, so she just sort of hung out in his house, free to fly around in any room she wanted. Speaking of which, where was she?

"Usha! Here!"

Silence.

"Well then."

He poured a portion of various flower seeds from a paper bag into a small tin and shook it for a few seconds. Sure enough, the small bird zoomed towards him at the familiar sound. He placed the tin down on the side of his work table, where Usha quickly followed. He sat down and opened one of his textbooks, setting his notepad next to it. A few hours passed by. After a while, the words became blurred and the letters seemed to move in on each other. His body felt as if he was melting into his chair, and he rested his head in his hand, putting his elbow on the table.

-Well, I don't see any harm in closing my eyes for a few minutes...-

He shut his eyes and set his pen down, his papers a jumbled mess. His knee stopped bouncing, and after a short time the entbrat was asleep. Usha perched on his shoulder, ruffling herself in the warmth of his oddly fluffy leaves. The moon looked down on its world. The clock read "1:27 AM." Tomorrow was a new day.

[abimee]

Extremely important question. What’s Althaea’s favorite Barbie movie.

THE BARBIE DIARIES!!!! but a LOT of people dont know abouy the barbie diaries, so if we're talking strictly like the super magical fantasy ones like nutcracker and such that more people know about id say Island Princess :]

funnily enough i had many like, original drafts of my joke au where Althaea somehow manages to appear in modern times eorzea (usually hand waved away as ''the wol collected enough shards of azem that they accidently re-awaken), and one of the original drafted ideas was that when Althaea appears, she has entirely no recollection of who she once was Because she lacks her azem crystal like how emet was using the crystal memories for the ones he woke up, so not only does althaea Not Remember any of her shard selves, but not much else about her amaurotine self either besides some basic facts and the way they used to live, so while she has no clue who she is In Specific, shes also amazed by this world she's woken up in that feels nothing like what little she remembers

She gets found and taken aboard a pirate ship thinking shes some castaway or poor soul thrown off board, and she only continues to amaze and endear the captain of a ship (a lonely but faithful duskwight woman), as she soons finds out Althaea has no understanding of Anything in the modern worl of eorzea; she has no idea what ships are, why people wear such different outfits, etc. I entirely based it off the song I Need to Know from island princess v

I've thought about coming back to this, because originally in the story the pirate crew were going to attempt to pass her off as a princess/woman of royalty from Ishgard to the people to swindle an immense amount of money from various people through some sloppy plots, and the duskwight captain tries teaching her how to pretend to be a princess. It's a secret ger crew doesn't know, but she was adopted by an Ishgardian minor noble house and never knew her true family or if they even wanted to give her up, and she always hated ishgardian nobility, so she left dodge before she was even twelve summers old and became a pirate's deckhand in lominsa to escape the suffocation of just Not Knowing the truth of things, and this is why she can understand Althaea's situation so well; she too feels like she dosnt know who she truly is, but shes trying to make her own image and rised to become her own pirate with her own crew to fill in what a lack of family and belonging left in her

Althaea does get pretty good at pretending --- so good actually with the captains training, that the word of an ishgardian noble daughter re-appearing in eorzea from a pirate ship makes its way back to Ishgard, and the captain's family believe it is their daughter and call for althaea to be returned to ishgard at once. they agree, if not just to get them off Althaea's back whence they realize Althaea doesn't look their missing chilD

BUT when they finally meet and the family exclaims that althaea IS their missing child, the captain becomes rapidly suspicious of whats happening, and soon Althaea and her get wrapped up in an intricate lie to see what the captain's family wants with Althaea

The problem is in the same breath that the captain and crew are now suspected of having stolen Althaea away from them, or at least heavily suspicous for having a lost noblewomen living with them, and the captain and her crew have to go under hiding so that they wont be found out and taken to trial while also staying close to Althaea and making sure nothing happens to her. to do THIS the captain and her crew scatter across eorzea, while the captain shadows as a duskwight miner whos come from the twelveswood to make some money. Through this chaotic mess the captain is now without her crew, the woman shes grown to be extremely fond of, and all shes worked hard for just to fabricate another false self; but she wants to help Althaea out of the mess she put her in, and Althaea sneaks to one of the mining caves to tell her that she's willing to see this plan through and uncover what the captain's family is doing, no matter the cost.

It becomes a sort of princess and the pauper esque thing that gets sort of funny and complex from here but the basic is that the captain's family has always struggled to have children, so when their adopted daughter disappeared they thought this was the end of their house and their name, so when a random ishgardian noble daughter re-appeared they scooped her up immediately to use her to carry the name, and immediatly began seeking suitors for this child hoping that it will bring in the money and stability they lost long ago

they do find a few suitors, lowborns with decent wealth from trade and a few minor house nobles seeking to merge their families, that are interested in Althaea's hand. One of the most prominent suitors that comes to visit Althaea though is from a man out of town --- he is no ishgardian, no noble, his name carries no weight, but he is wealthy and seeking a wife, and he can bring wealth to Althaea's family if not to make up for a lack of a name to carry her on. Her ''family'' disregards him immediately, but Althaea finds him incredibly sweet and kind, and Althaea routinely meets with him after her tea times with possible suitors to get to know him more. however, Althaea does not want any sort of marriage to go through --- not because shes lying about her place as the lost noble daughter, but because she has grown affectionate towards the pirate captain, and it doesnt feel right to make a fool of another man giving her his heart in this way.

realized im just rambling about a random oc au and idek if you know anything about ff14 so im going to stop here before this post becomes a mile long ARCK

[ritualpnw]

We just got in an oracle deck we've been excited for, called Arcane Bullshit, an absurd oracle deck with 106 cards, check it out! I, Jessica, a person whose soul died at age 10 and has never not been ironic since then because I'm just so cool and rad, am the person to try this out.

First, we need to shuffle. It offers some suggestions. I went with the Bachelor.

Excellent, it did absolutely no good. So I had to eventually pick it all up and shuffle it like a regular human being. Next, I had to pull my cards into a spread. I, of course, went for the most archaic of the options it offered.

The Whole of my Being is laid out before me. Let's look at the top two cards to figure out my Immediate Future and its Outcome.

These cards are hilarious, but also have some thought put into their meaning. That's wonderful and all, but I'm too busy having an existential crisis about giving birth to a VCR to deep dive into my reading right now.

The deck comes in a sturdy box with arcane bullshit printed on all its sides, a useful guide, and 106 cards like mentioned before. Card stock isn't the best for fanning and hard to shuffle somewhat, but it's a sturdy stock with a matte finish. So, basically, you'll need to be chaotic in your method to shuffle this thing, but it fits it, tbh. I bought one immediately.

[jimi-rawlings]

DEZI Theistic Satanism

Left Handed Path

Urban shamanism distinguishes traditional shamanism found in indigenous societies from Western adaptations that draw on contemporary and modern roots. Urban shamanism is practiced primarily by people who do not originate in a traditional indigenous society and who create unique methods that do not follow or claim authenticity in any prior tradition. Urban shamanism traces its beginnings to efforts by Westerners to come to terms with psychoactive plant experiences using their own modern frames of cultural reference influenced by, but outside of, the indigenous rites in which plant medicine is traditionally based. Surautomatism is any theory or act in practice of surrealist creative production taking, or purporting to take, automatism to its most absurd limits. Action painting, sometimes called "gestural abstraction", is a style of painting in which paint is spontaneously dribbled, splashed or smeared onto the canvas, rather than being carefully applied. The resulting work often emphasizes the physical act of painting itself as an essential aspect of the finished work or concern of its artist. An acid house party was a type of illegal party typically staged in an Art Gallery After Party between 1987 and 1989. Opium dens were typically dark, hidden, underground spaces or an Art Gallery After Party. Dazecore is an aesthetic inspired by sleepless nights and the buzz of late night/early morning thoughts. It is very closely linked to Urbancore, Geek, and Dark Minimalism, heavily influenced by artists working in the early hours of the morning and students staying up late at night working on papers. Urbancore is an aesthetic based on imagery of urban cities and street life. Urbancore is associated to real-life, modern-day society and almost always is based in recent decades. As it is a really broad aesthetic, it can revolve around city streets and architecture, graffiti, skate parks at night, urban fashion and picnics.

Invocation Occult

Syncretism with Rosier

Count as Noble Title

9th Prince of Hell

Arbiter Choir 

St. Matthieu Classification 

Sylphs

Cardinal-Mutable Lightning Air Sagittarius 

Jupiter Astral Body Heavenly Intelligence 

Enochian Magick 

DEZI Effect as a Mural Crown Invocation Sin (Invocation, Oversoul, Lightning Demigod Wing Exchange, Planetary Intelligence Natal Charts, Jupiter Evening Star Invocation, Apocalypse Text, Enochian Magick, Sensory Play, St. Matthieu Classification, Spiritual Catalyst, Cul-de-sac Drug-Crime Nexus, Solvent Levelling Effect Chemical Reaction Engineering, Habitants Monopoly, Larousse Gastronomy, Fragrance Wheel, Refus Global, Blue Ocean Strategy Series, Drug Sorcery, Reckless Abandonment, and Impulsive Borderline)

Lesser Satans (Grigori)

Sin City Angel

Mischievous over Malevolent

Fallen Angel who tempts Sin 

Incubus

War Responsibility

Underworld Fleur-de-lys: Dualism in cosmology or dualistic cosmology is the moral or spiritual belief that two fundamental concepts exist, which often oppose each other. It is an umbrella term that covers a diversity of views from various religions, including both traditional religions and scriptural religions. Moral dualism is the belief of the great complement or conflict between the benevolent and the malevolent.

It is difficult to find real women represented in sources characterized as 'Gnostic.' The few that are mentioned are portrayed to be chaotic, disobedient, and even enigmatic.[70] However, significant Gnostic texts like the Nag Hammadi place women in roles of leadership and heroism, contradicting the narrative that women in Gnostic spaces were mere victims to their circumstance.[70][71][72] The role women played in the evolution of Gnosticism is an area of study still being explored.

The pneumatics ("spiritual", from Greek πνεῦμα, "spirit") were, in Gnosticism, the highest order of humans, the other two orders being psychics and hylics ("matter"). A pneumatic saw themselves as escaping the doom of the material world via the transcendent knowledge of Sophia's Divine Spark within the soul. In Gnosticism, the divine spark is the portion of God that resides within each human being.

Carl Jung approached Gnosticism from a psychological perspective, which was followed by Gilles Quispel. According to this approach, Gnosticism is a map for the human development in which an undivided person, centered on the Self, develops out of the fragmentary personhood of young age. According to Quispel, gnosis is a third force in western culture, alongside faith and reason, which offers an experiential awareness of this Self.

Raguel and Sachiel are adversaries 

DEZI

[starcchild]

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Carter turned her head to look at Ashelia as she spoke - a faint smile flickering across her lips. It was no surprise to hear that she had broken rules she had been expected to follow without complaint. No surprise to hear how Basch had helped her break some of them as well. And... as sad as it was, it wasn't a surprise that she had to hide a part of herself - that she hadn't had a say in who she could love. But, as Ashelia went on to stay that loving her had freed her...

Her cheeks warmed at that, and Carter felt her heart flutter as her girlfriend smiled. Hearing how she had made her world brighter and expansive... made her feel good. But she didn't respond right away to Ashelia's question, and, instead, her smile widened just a bit as she glanced away. Quietly mulling over her answer before she let out a faint breath.

"In a- in a way," she said finally - her voice soft. "You've- you've made my worl-world brighter, and... you've made it- it better. You've made it..." She trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words to explain it. At least... without going into too much detail just yet. "It's... quiet-quieter, now, but it's- it's good. It- it used to be... chaotic, I- I suppose, and... with- with you, it's calmer. Peaceful, really." Carter let out a soft huff of laughter. "I'm- I'm not sure how to- to describe it, I- I suppose, but... it's nice. You've... given me some-something to look for-forward to, and... you've helped- helped me see what this- this should be like."

She paused again, and let out a quiet laugh as she shook her head - her face flushed lightly. "I- I guess the short ver-version of that is that you've- you've made my world bright-brighter, too. It's just... better with- with you in it all a-around."

[catflowerqueen]

@atarahderek

Well, now you've got ME invested in that crack fic, so you'll need to finish it.

Okay, well now you've actually gotten me thinking more about this, so...

As far as actual "substance" within the dream goes, the only parts I can clearly remember are that at some point the dummy dragged Zuko into the water specifically to engage in some underwater punching, and also Zuko was at one point sitting amidst a circle of hippies who, for the purposes of cohesion within the ATLA plot, more than likely would have been the Singing Nomads of "Secret Tunnel Song" fame.

So as far as backstory and basic plot outlining goes...

-During one of their family's trips to Ember Island as a child back when Ursa was still around, a young Zuko is allowed to roam the markets with limited adult supervision.

-He ends up basically getting conned into buying a large piece of "special wood" by some sleazy salesman who looks a lot like Spamton if he were human and somehow transported into the ATLA universe. The wood is special because it "speaks to you" and can "guide you to do great things." Or whatever. Basically it acted like the phone did for Spamton in Deltarune, except here it is at the point where the "calls" have stopped, so the guy is now selling it to try and make even a little bit more money

-unbeknownst to the salesman--and subsequently Zuko--the wood actually came from the Tree of Time and is being possessed by Vaatu.

-On the way back from the island, there is a terrible storm and Zuko--with the wood still in his possession--gets knocked overboard.

-Once the storm dies down no one finds his body, so everyone assumes he died.

-In actuality, he got washed up on the shores of the Spirit World for a bit due to Vaatu's influence in the wood, except the accident left him with amnesia. The only real memory he has is of the salesman who sold him the wood, and even that is hazy. Also, he can sort of hear Vaatu whispering to him

-For some reason, he gets it into his mind that Vaatu and the salesman are the same person, and that Vaatu's whisperings about "wanting a vessel" mean that he wants Zuko to carve the wood into a puppet/dummy in the likeness of the salesman.

-Spoilers: This is not what Vaatu was referring to, but it's what he gets stuck with.

-Zuko eventually manages to carve the wood into a Spamton-shape and then figures out how to get back to the human world specifically so he can look for paint and accessories to make the dummy look more like the guy he remembers and assumes is Vaatu's physical form. He ends up either on Ember Island again or some random Earth Kingdom port city

-Zuko has no idea that Vaatu-Spamton-puppet is anything other than a random spirit that just wanted vessel that looked like this for some reason, so really doesn't know what to do after that point, especially since he doesn't have any memories. And Vaatu is too petulant and sulky about the situation to offer much input.

-Zuko sees a puppet/ventriloquist performance and decides that since he already has a puppet, he might as well try and do that for a living.

-Puppet-Vaatu is capable of some limited movement (like he can move his arms and mouth if he tries, and can sort of "tug" on Zuko if he's in physical contact with him), but he doesn't actually have a voice and can only communicate with people if he is in contact with them--meaning that all of the ventriloquism skills Zuko acquires genuinely are his own, even if some of the things he "makes the puppet say" are just him repeating Vaatu's words that only he can hear.

-Vaatu eventually grudgingly becomes more active in performances (as in, feeding Zuko lines and occasionally moving his arms up and down) because Zuko is still Zuko even with amnesia and isn't exactly the funniest guy around. And if Vaatu is going to be stuck like this, then he is going to make sure that their shows are the best they can be.

-Zuko and Vaatu travel around on Vaatu's chaotic whims, occasionally shortcutting through the spirit world, and travel along with the singing nomads for a while. Including up to the point where they meet the Gaang.

-Vaatu clocks Raava in Aang right away, but decides that rather than attempt a harmonic convergence early, he is instead going to cause problems in the form of hanging around her (via Aang) without her being able to do anything to him because--technically speaking--he is still trapped in the tree via being in the puppet, so if she tries to destroy him he will either be freed wholesale or just end up back in the main body of the tree

-Basically he does this by either having Zuko follow along behind the Gaang's trail or just straight up sneak onto Appa, and then gaslight them by only visibly moving in front of Sokka. Sowing in those secret little seeds of chaos by making everyone else think Sokka is crazy/just seeing things

-(Toph also totally knows the puppet is straight-up possessed, but finds Sokka getting so freaked out by it too amusing to spoil the fun. Also she likes that he enjoys punching people)

-(Vaatu also has great fun in messing with Aang in the days leading up to the Eclipse when he was legitimately seeing things due to lack of sleep, in part because of how much it eats at Raava that she still can't do anything because Aang legitimately thinks its due to sleep deprivation)

-Vaatu probably punches Hama at some point. Like--she decides to use Zuko as an object lesson for Katara or otherwise just seal Zuko into her torture cave and then steal his admittedly well-made puppet. Vaatu objects--Zuko is HIS--and then punches her when she tries picking him up.

-Zuko probably still ends up as Firelord here, and likely brings Vaatu to all his council meetings. And Raava--and all his advisors--absolutely hates it. It gets brushed off as his way to kind of bounce ideas around and work through solutions and problems out loud.

-I didn't watch Korra enough to get what the whole plan was with Vaatu there, but needless to say it doesn't end up happening like that. Honestly, I can see Vaatu just straight up refusing to do the harmonic convergence thing specifically because of how much his enjoyment of puppethood annoys her.

-Also, I feel like Bosco might try and eat him at one point.

I had a weird dream last night where pre-Agni Kai Zuko got amnesia and ended up becoming a ventriloquist. His ventriloquist dummy was basically Spamton, except it was legitimately possessed by a spirit that may or may not have been Vaatu. It liked to swim and punch people.

[wearelxgion]

@crew-from-capulet​ | Liked For A Starter

“It’s still a little weird to wake up and not be in tunnels, I have to be quite honest about that. But it is even weirder to keep having to think that me flying around might be the strange thing.”

It was how she worked out stress in most cases, just fly around. But now that was a strange thing for most people to see.

“And yet the weirdest thing is that I miss the fighting. I never thought I would say I miss fighting things, but here I am, saying that I miss fighting things.”

[hlizr50]

You Belong with Me

Azriel and his brothers are high-power executives, and while the Valkyrie ladies always attend the fancy dinners and events, Gwyn is NOT wealthy and is the only one who isn't attached to someone who is. When Gwyn volunteers to take Azriel to the cabin early to prep for their big family/friends vacation, they have a conversation about how she might have to cut back. Add in banter and hours of Gwyn unabashedly belting Taylor Swift, and Az realizes that not having her around is just not an option.

Guys... I've never cared for AU, never been big into song lyrics. But my soul just needed this to be a thing. So here it is.

Read on AO3

“You sure this thing is gonna get us there?” Azriel’s smug grin only earned an eyeroll from the redhead on the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side door.

“Just put your shit in the trunk and get in the car,” she huffed across the weathered blue of the roof. He chuckled, slinging his suitcase into the trunk as the door slammed – maybe with a little extra force. He loved poking at her, and he knew she would dish it right back. After closing the trunk he returned to the open door on the passenger’s side and lowered himself into the well-worn leather seat. “You know not all of us are fortunate enough to be high-level executives at multi-million dollar companies. But rest assured that this historical document restoration expert and her 16-year-old Toyota with 154000 miles are going to get you to the cabin safe and sound. Because you insisted on getting there a day early to make sure everything is secure.” Gwyn deepened her voice, giving him her best Azriel impersonation. And maybe he was being a bit… overzealous. But he had always been the most keenly aware, the most protective. He may have been CFO, but he was also deeply involved in security – both from the standpoint of the organization and of it’s employees. And his family.

He simply smirked, “If you say so.”

“You’re insufferable,” she groaned, turning the key. The car rumbled to life, and Azriel had to admit that he was impressed with how quiet it still seemed to run. He was sure Gwyn was a stickler about maintenance. “Just for that, you are sentenced to three hours of me serenading you with the best songs Taylor Swift has to offer.”

“Oh, Gods, anything but Taylor Swift.” Azriel grimaced, hiding the secret joy he rarely let her see. He loved it when she sang. Her voice was lovely, of course, but what hit him harder was how she seemed to radiate joy when she did it.

Gwyneth Berdara wasn’t quiet and shy like he tended to be – not by a long shot. She was irreverent and blunt and bold. But he could see the shadows that hid just behind the shimmer in her eyes – he could tell there were demons there. Her sister had been murdered four years before, in the apartment they both had shared, and it had wounded her deeply. Nesta had mentioned that there was more to the story, but that it was only Gwyn’s to tell. So, yes, she definitely had darkness that followed her, but she kept it well hidden. He’d learned, as they had become friends, that she often grew anxious in large crowds or chaotic environments. She didn’t feel safe, and that had always bothered him. Regardless of how many people were around or how crazy it was, her friends were there with her. He was there. Whatever it was that kept her so on edge, he imagined that the lingering sadness in that deep ocean gaze and the faraway wistful look that sometimes passed over her features were a part of it.

But when she sang she was a beacon of light, with the brightest smile and rosy, freckle-flecked cheeks.

“Don’t you dare disrespect the goddess T. Swift,” she glowered, and as they pulled onto the highway he lost himself in the lilting notes of her car concert.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving – at least seven works of the goddess T. Swift – when he reached for the volume knob on the console and turned it down.

“Are you coming to the charity gala in a couple weeks?” Azriel looked over at her, noting the light stain of pink gracing her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the road.

“Oh… No.” Gwyn glanced over at him and gave a tight smile, causing him to purse his lips.

“Why not?”

“Az,” she chided, throwing him a stern look. “It’s too expensive. I can’t afford a seat and a dress. Hell, I probably can’t even afford one or the other.” He stayed silent, mulling over the understanding that money wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, and how he could make that not a problem for her. “Besides, you know how I am with crowds like that. I’d probably just have an attack and ruin everyone’s night.” She tried to laugh it off, and that troubled Azriel even more. Because she had seemed disappointed just then when she said she wasn’t going.

“Do you want to go, Gwyn?” He prodded. I want you to go. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat to straighten her back.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s really not possible for me.” She shrugged, as if that was it.

But that wasn’t it. Everyone was going to be there. She should be there, too. She should be there, with him.

“You know we would help –“

“I know, Az. But I’m not asking you, or Rhys. I’m not asking anyone. I can’t keep depending on everyone else just to go to events and dinners and whatever else.” She sucked in a breath. “I just… I don’t live the same life that the rest of you do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how it is.”

“Gwyn, you know nobody cares about that.” Azriel frowned. “I understand that my family is… fortunate. Privileged. But you and Nesta and Emerie are a part of us.”

“It’s not the same, Azriel.” Azriel. The full name. This was more serious than he realized. “Nesta is with Cassian and Emerie is with Mor. It makes sense that maybe they’re taken care of. I’m just… a friend. A friend who is poor.” He opened his mouth to argue but she beat him to it. “And it’s not just about covering food… you go to places with dress codes and too many forks for dinner, and with the company’s increasing success the three of you are only growing more popular and more press-worthy. Especially you.”

“Me?” Azriel swallowed, brows furrowed. “Why especially me?”

Gwyn cast him a pointed look, eyes dark and serious. “You’re the last single brother, Az. You are eligible bachelor number one. All the single ladies in the metropolitan area, if not further out, will be pining for you. If they’re not already.”

Eligible bachelor number one. He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Oh Az. Sweet, precious, innocent Az. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. You’re wealthy, successful, and absolutely beautiful.” Azriel raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance, but she was so stubbornly keeping her eyes trained ahead. It was responsible, of course. She was driving. But not even a peek meant that she was intentionally avoiding looking over at him. The corners of his mouth turned downward, not quite understanding how this conversation had gone the way it had.

“Is that so? Please, tell me more,” he snickered. If there was anything that he knew, it was how to draw her back with teasing. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and Gwyneth Berdara was ruthless when it came to having the last word. The corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was doing her best not to smile.

“I hate you so much,” she huffed.

“Now, I don’t think that’s even remotely true.” He reached out to pinch the apple of her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, sending a glower that only made him laugh.

“The single ladies can have you. Maybe you’ll find someone else to annoy.”

“Aw, Gwynnie. You know nobody could ever replace you.” And even though it was in jest, it was also… true. “And what would you do without me?”

“Get some peace and quiet for once?” And when the redhead turned with that scrunched freckled nose and her tongue stuck out at him Azriel was relieved to have the playful girl – his best friend – wearing a smile again. “Now shut it or sing along, you have not been punished with nearly enough of our lady Taylor Swift.”

And so the ride continued, but Azriel chewed on his lower lip, contemplating everything Gwyn had said. She was fiercely independent, so he could understand how she might not want to accept what she might perceive as charity, or worse, pity. But the idea of her just not being there… it made something inside of him feel hollow. He reached out and turned down the volume again.

“Why wouldn’t you say anything? About where we’re going to dinner? Or about not being comfortable at big events?” He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at her, trying to pinpoint any reaction she may have. Once again pink stained her cheeks.

“Az, it’s not like you guys are going to stop going to fancy restaurants so you can come to Wendy’s with me. I don’t want to take away from anyone’s fun.” Fucking ridiculous.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have less fun without you there?” Azriel tried to keep his tone light, but his temper was flaring. He wasn’t sure why, but it bothered him that she would think she could just… not be there and they would all just go on like it didn’t matter.

“Of course I did,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a wink. “I know it will be hard but I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Besides, I don’t plan on just disappearing. I just… need to be more thoughtful about what I’m doing. I’ll just be around… less.” She turned the volume back up and jumped straight into the lyrics, not giving him the opportunity to tell her how preposterous she sounded.

Azriel leaned back in his seat, losing himself in thought with Gwyn’s lovely voice still soothing him in the background. He didn’t know how long he’d been brooding when the volume increased dramatically, blaring through the interior. Looking over he found her tapping on the steering wheel and swaying to the beat of her majesty Taylor Swift. Her eyes were shining, her smile was brilliant, and she sang like she didn’t have a care in the world.

You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset

She’s going off about something that you said

‘Cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do

I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night

I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like

And she’ll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

You belong with me

Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself

Hey, isn’t this easy?

And you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town

I haven’t seen it in awhile since she brought you down

You say you’re fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was seeing Gwyn for the first time. Unbridled joy, laughter when she turned to him when she was singing, dancing in the driver’s seat like a passenger’s worst nightmare.

And he couldn’t help but listen to the words, too. Surely that part was coincidence, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking to him… something was speaking to him.

He grinned as she shimmied her shoulders and rocked her head from side to side, wisps of copper flying away from her ponytail.

Oh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh even though you’re ‘bout to cry

I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me

Can’t you see that I’m the one that understands you

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me

You belong with me

“Gosh I think I went too hard on that one. I’m out of breath!” she laughed, and she glanced toward Azriel in the passenger seat. “Have you had enough yet, Az?”

“Never,” he murmured, and her breath caught. She turned her focus back to the road, but kept stealing looks back at him. She seemed unsure of how to respond, but he was also lost in his own head.

He didn’t want to be the eligible bachelor. He didn’t want to annoy anyone else. He knew that he had cared for Gwyn as more than a friend for a long time – Nesta and Cassian had always encouraged him to do something about it. Nesta in particular had assured him that Gwyn felt the same way. But no matter how much Azriel had flirted she never seemed to acknowledge it, never seemed inclined to do something about it. They bantered and challenged and laughed, but never more.

But Nesta continued to be insistent. She told Azriel that there were some things about Gwyn that might keep her from acting upon her affection for him, and maybe he should make the first move. He never had, of course, for fear of rejection and fear of ruining the relationship that they had.

But now suddenly he was looking at a future where she wasn’t always there. He didn’t like the thought of that. He would go to Wendy’s for dinner instead of whatever black-tie restaurant had their reservation. But, furthermore, he would take care of her, like Cassian took care of Nesta. He wouldn’t go to events without her, and he would make sure that she was comfortable and safe while she was there. Because he would keep her close. He would always keep her close.

By the time Gwyn was pulling the car onto the driveway leading to the cabin she was only singing quietly to herself and letting him sit in his own silent thought. And as soon as she parked and turned off the car he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Without a word he ripped off the seatbelt and burst out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He was already crossing across the front when Gwyn popped out.

“What the hell, Az? The car is 16 years old you can’t just slam doors like that –“

Azriel grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. Gods, they were perfect – warm and lush. She inhaled shakily against his mouth and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He swept his lips across hers once again before pulling away only slightly, resting his forehead against her own. They were both breathing hard, and her expression nearly sent him to his knees. Gwyn’s teal eyes were wide, shining with surprise and confusion. Her lips were swollen and her freckled cheeks stained crimson. Azriel wasn’t going to give himself enough time to question this, though.

“You’re coming to the gala,” he insisted, gaze flitting wildly between her lips and her eyes before drowning in the ocean pools. “I’m buying your ticket. On our way home after this weekend we’ll go shopping for a dress. And no matter what you wear you will be the most exquisite thing there.”

Gwyn looked up at him, chest still heaving and eyes still wide, and nodded.

“And you’re coming to every dinner and event and anything else after that. Because, no matter what you might think, I don’t want to be there if you’re not there.”

“Az –“

“And when you’re there, you won’t think about money or crowds. Because I’ll be there. I’m going to take care of you and make sure you’re safe. Because I don’t just want you to be there with all of us. I want you to be there with me. Okay, Gwyn?” His eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand, to see what was in his heart.

“Okay,” she nodded. Her breaths had quieted, her eyes were warm, and there was a ghost of a smile there. And Azriel dared to hope that Nesta had been right, and all he’d needed was to take the leap.

“Can I kiss you again, Gwyn?” he asked.

“Please,” she giggled at him, smile widening. He leaned in, this time with much more restraint and care, slanting his lips over her soft ones and gently moving against them. When he pulled away his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, which grew impossibly bigger when he saw her blushing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he laughed, still not believing that he had done all that, and that it had… worked?

“I… I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” Gwyn sighed and then dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “So… so just to be clear. You want me… to be…?” Azriel chuckled and ran his hands down her arms and then tangling their fingers together.

“I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to aggravate any other single ladies. I don’t want to be an eligible bachelor. I just want you. We can go to fancy dinners or charity events or the finest fast food restaurants in the metropolitan area.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then kissed her cheek. “Will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Of course, Az.” He bent his head and kissed her again. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was making up for lost time.

“As her holy highness Taylor Swift said, you belong with me,” Azriel grinned devilishly. “I can’t help but be suspicious that you planned that… planned to make me fall for your beautiful voice and how adorable you are.” Gwyn tilted her head back and laughed, nearly a cackle full of amusement and contentment.

“I did not plan it, but I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”

[kalixus]

UM HELLO!!! I am totally blown away by you, your characters and the worl you've built. i don't click with people often, especially creatvely but i think i clicked really well with you like our heads were totally in the same space and i love so much what we've plotted and how they're apart of eachother's pasts, presents and future like i love tying characters together like that. your prose is beautiful and i cannot way to see where everything goes and develop more with you!!

ALRIGHT YOU , *SNIFFLES* Y-YOU DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT. THAT’S GENUINELY NOT F-FAIR.  hey i mean you found me first idk so this is on you i do not know what you saw in me but clearly we’re both the perfect level of chaotic and i love where we’re going with our plot , i truly love mia and the way she’s so unconditionally angry at kalix i , you don’t understand  :  i live to see him getting beat up. you’re a sweetheart and you definitely spread the love tonight thank you so , so much ♡ i can’t wait to scream with you some more after we get these two really going !!!!  i hope you feel better soon love , please take care of that cold and get some well deserved rest and please hydrate and watch something that’ll make you laugh and smile!

[monstersanonymous]

I’m too lazy to write the fic so fuck it

list of songs the trc crew would sing if they were in a band

Seashore -The Regrettes (Adam and Blue duet. Song about being talked down to)

Sorority Girls - Mommy Long Legs (Noah and Blue. About being forced into stereotypes and also men are creepy)

Sunflower -Post Malone, Swae Lee (Henry. Simply bc of the vibes)

The Middle -Jimmy Eat World (Noah. Look at the first verse. “Got so aggressive, I know we meant all good intentions.” Strong Noah vibe)

Feels So Nice - The Wrecks (how I imagine Henry being in love would feel)

Yellow -Not My Weekend (Henry and Noah. song for kind hearted souls in love.)

Stray Heart -Green Day (absolute Ronan.“you’re the only one i’m dreamin of. you’re not alone. Everything I need I need form you but I just can’t have you.”)

Sugar We’re Goin Down -Fall Out Boy (Blue and Gansey. i offer no explanation)

Teenage Dream -Katy Perry (i feel like Blue and Henry would do this as a joke and then actually vibe with it)

Automatic Flowers -Our Lady Peace (Gansey. Rock song with a creepy story if you pay attention? yeah)

I Wanna Get Better -The Bleachers (Ronan. about experiencing love and then wantin to. well. get better)

Can’t Hold Us - Macklemore (Gansey and noah bc noah can rap)

Me! -Taylor Swift, Brendon Urie (Blue and noah bc i said so)

Tear in My Heart -Twenty One Pilots (Gansey being soft for Blue on main? And feeling weakness but also peace? indeed)

Figure this Out -The Wrecks (Adam. song about being unsure about a relationship. loud chaotic.)

Bailing -Not My Weekend (Adam. again about figuring out a relationship but i feel like this would be a past relationship bc it’s about leaving a toxic relationship. Also bc i want him to sing this.)

Oh No! -MARINA (Adam and Noah for the detached superstar vibes)

Thnks fr th Mmrs-Fall Out Boy (Noah. “Thanks for the memories, even if they weren’t so great.”)

Too Dumb to Die -Green Day (gotta give this to Ronan. “too scared to dream but too dumb to die”)

D’You Have A Car? -SWRMS (Adam and Blue. wanting to get out and leave with someone who has a car. that’s easy)

High School Never Ends -Bowling For Soup (Blue and ronan bc of the funny but also angry at the worl vibes)

I like (the idea of) You -Tessa Violet (Blue. convincing yourself that you’re not actually interested in the person, it’s just surface level)

Stupid for You-Waterparks (Gansey. it’s in the title)

Loser- McCaffery (Ronan. Angry heart wrencher and strong disassociation and being angry with yourself)

Trailer Trash -McCaffery (Adam bc it’s about thinking your last defines who you are and will haunt you forever. Feels like someone is finally venting after bottling it up.)

[cptdarkmoon]

Gods, and our relationship with them

It was told to me as a child that the Gods of our world created us, molded us from pure creation. I saw no hand of their work for most of my youth, no divine acts, no dark deeds, just priests telling stories. I lost my faith in the Gods at a very young age, believing them to be nonexistent. Beings on another plane dictating our actions? I was above that nonsense. It took until I visited death that I understood truly how much was above our heads. I was in awe of what could exist, what adventures laid in wait for me, like a child being shown the city for the first time. Stories in the Temple of Urgo will tell you that the gods were not always as they were, Light melded together from the goodness of many lesser Gods, Dark formed from the evil and abuse of its predecessors, Grey with everything in between. They held a balance, each god opposing another with the exception of grey and karma, who oppose themselves. Gifts of life, gifts of death, trapping the entity in a realm we all know as death, they have a clear influence on our existence, our environment, their will sways and so do our terms. But did they truly create us? Or did we create them?

We know there was a world before the Gods as we know it, cataclysmic events and ravaged worlds, before we could ever recall there were Gods unknown to us, lost to the sands of time.

But then, what did they rule over? Many elves created due to influence of Light and Dark, what race is the progentior? Do we humans descend from elves? Do orcs and ogres share a lineage? To know our place, we must know our parents, and their role in out history. Whatever spawned us, whatever gave birth to the first being that walked and worshipped, was the last thing I believe to see a world without Gods.

Dark Gods

The Dark gods can be a confusing thing to some folk. A religion based on selfishness, cruelty, and suffering, what person in their right mind would choose this path? Perhaps some are born with the disposition, perhaps it's a series of small sacrifices that build up too great to turn back on, perhaps even just one bad day will turn the best of us to a conniving Dark priest. My wife was a creature entwined with Tempesta, chaotic blood moved to our children, maybe they would have followed in their mother's steps if they grew to age. An entire library could be written about why good people turn to evil paths, but one thing is certain. That path is a choice, that any of us could make, we must never paint them as something less or alien, but as beings that made a concious choice to become what they are. Two phrases come to mind when discussing Dark Gods.

First, Suffering is relative.

What does this insinuate? For one to suffer, they must have something to loose, some joyous memory or a chance for hope.

Suffering is relative to the amount of happiness you experience. If you never see the sun rise, then you never become bothered by the night.

Second, The honey is sweeter when you anger the bees.

For cruel minds, having your prey know it was you who dominated them is an exuberant sensation. Gloating over your successful assassination, boasting over the fiends you unleashed in the capital, flaunting you ability to avoid a reckoning, these are the fruits of the labor. It is making your cake, and eating it too.

These become relevant to understanding how Dark survives in a world, and doesn't simply consume itself in a diseased war of bones.

It must pose as friend, helpful, useful, it must make itself seem less threatening or perhaps even necessary so it cannot be snuffed out. Truly keeping company with a Dark follower means waiting for them to finally betray you.

The best thing about Dark followers? You don't need to feel bad about killing them.

Light Gods

On the surface, paragons of truth, justice, and civilization, but as the Dark is corrupting, Light can be blinding. A devotion to the light gods seems to be something that should be normal in everyday life, a farmer praises Pheonix for good health, a tavern praises Halcyon for joyous patrons, refugees praise Nexus for giving them order in a chaotic times, a widow praises Nemesus for the justice brought to their husband's killer. But seldom do we see such casual worship of the Light gods, as if these dogmas encourage zealotry. In all my travels I have seen Light be not a protector of the meek, but a paranoid destroyer of the Dark. Gentle approach has not been seen in many years, so the common man worships more relatable, baser instincts. Do not take my criticism as a way to shun these followers, for I have rarely seen someone as devoted to making a positive impact on the world as a priest of Light on a quest. Where as they start as healers, protectors, the Path of the Many can be corrupting, a man can only tale so many thankless jobs before he becomes resentful.

Should Light not focus on the protection of all that is good and innocent? Or should they focus on the destruction of evil? At what point does a greater good become too great a price?

A quandry.

A child is trapped in a burning barn, the man who lit the barn ablaze is there as well, basking in the glory of his tortured victim. You only have time to reach one before the other is lost.

Anyone who had the answer immediately rush to their mind has never tried to view things from a Light priest's perspective. Dozens of questions, threads of fate, consequences of actions must play out in accordance to their faith, every moment is do or die.

Their lot is taking responsibility for all that is worth striving for in this world, and that weight can be maddening.

Grey Gods

Light and Dark, their portfolios are both things that happen within civilization, where as Grey exists more in the natural balance of things. It is the world without morality and law. If dogs could worship, they would worship Grey. In the humblest of beasts, the most lesser creatures, find comfort and solace in Grey. A system of faith where you are part of the natural world, as the sun rises and as darkness cools the worls, as magic flows and as ants wage war. I suggest that Grey is the oldest of the gods, uncaring and everlasting, we can hope to stop murders, but how can we ever stop the seasons from changing?

As I've seen, this results in uncaring worshippers, the most casual of the divine, knowing that the world has existed long before them, and will continue long after them. Surely thwir worship is the most benign selfishness, as Sylvic allows slavery and freedom, as Bellicose doesn't care from where the blood flows, as long as it flows. A good effort must be given to get a follower of Grey to join your cause, otherwise you may find that despite your revolution, despite all you strive for, the sun will shine tomorrow, magic will still flow.

Followers and Worshippers

I was told by a priest of Pheonix, when i first started adventuring, that I may as well follow a God, they recieve worship through my actions regardless if I praise them. If you are going to do something anyway, why not attach to something greater. Some find comfort knowing they are part of something greater than themselves, like soldiers dying for kingdoms. You may never see your king, but following the Gods, you may feel their warmth directly.

Who am I to shame those that want to find purpose in this life? We are all allowed to make choices, our paths we choose in life. Too often though do I see an individual lost within something greater, and there is no sadder sight than an individual lost within a crowd.

At the Ravaging, it was not heroes that stemmed the tide of a fallen god, it was but farmers and soldiers, average men and women. That potential can be nurtured by the Gods, by a higher calling, and used to help others. I cannot claim to know the minds and thoughts of the divine beings looking down on us, I can only wonder how far the parents have let their children wander.

[episode-escapades]

We start off with our dad sloshed at the bar- always a good sign. Well let’s go help- as quickly as possible, I hope.

My thoughts exactly. Still would be far from the most uncomfortable things I’ve seen in this story.

Hell yeah, let’s join in. I’m down for being a little chaotic tonight.

Oh okay, I guess that’ll work, too. Did that like, instantly make him sober?

DIDNEY WORL?!?!

Dad nooooo. Don’t go to sleep and leave her with Max again. Why didn’t he just stay at the damn bar?

So then Tabasco and Max agree to try and get their parents back together. Neither of them sound as eager to do this as I do though.

[tiny-maus-boots]

Wild West AU pt 8

Beca gave Aubrey a nod of greeting and slid onto the chair across from her. The blonde was seated at a small table very carefully embroidering the top edge of a sheet. Beca settled on the other side of the table and looked down at the heavy leather bound book waiting for her. She trailed fingertips along the well-worn cover before glancing around to make sure they were alone as she always did before pulling the wire rim spectacles out of the small hidden pocket that opened from the side in the soft leather of her tunic. She settled them on her nose and opened the Bible up to the bookmark and looked to Aubrey for her signal.

“You may begin.” She said with a nod and a small smile, her eyes drifting back to her needlework.

For a moment the letters of the words swam on the page making it all seem like an unruly march of ants. Beca blinked a few times and leaned over the page, her finger drifting along as she read with stuttering slowness, feet hooked around the legs of her chair. “For God so lov-ed, loved the wo- worled, world, as to give his only beg-got…begotten Son; that whos..whoso…whosomeeither…”

“Sound it out Becs.” Aubrey’s tone was gentle and it helped ease the tension that started thrumming through her when she couldn’t figure the word out. She wasn’t stupid but words, letters, they were hard sometimes. Beca had never managed to learn to read and no one had ever cared much to try and teach her until she was an adult. Aubrey had been kind and patient. Understanding exactly where Beca struggled and finding ways to help her focus without seeming to ever push. It was the kindest thing a body had ever done for her and she was damned grateful to Aubrey.

“That who-so-ev-er, oh whosoever, b-be-lie-veth, belie-veth, believeth in him, may not persh, no perish, but may have life ever…las, everlasting.”

“Good Beca, that was real good.” Aubrey stopped the delicate work and reached across the table to squeeze Beca’s forearm. “Pretty soon you won’t need me to help you.” The smile that she directed at Beca was full of warm pride and the brunette ducked her head with a little shrug, proud of herself too.

“I’ll always need ya Aubrey, You mean a lot to me an’ Chloe. You and Stace…” She didn’t know how to say it right, all the things she felt about her friends and the bond they all shared. “You’re family.” She didn’t even know why she had taken the conversation this path, maybe it was the near constant pressure of Jesse’s presence reminding her of how grateful she was for the people in her life that she knew she could trust.

The blonde smiled at her, giving another gentle squeeze of her arm. Family was important to both of them though neither of them had really known what a true family was before. Aubrey with her…religious situation and Beca with no family that she knew of at all, both of them desperately wanting something real to trust in. If it hadn’t been for Stacie and Chloe, Beca wasn’t entirely sure she and Aubrey would have survived this long. She might have said more but Jesse wandered into the main cavern already scanning the interior for her.

It seemed everywhere she went he was soon to follow and it was annoying her as much as it was annoying Chloe. Aubrey sighed at the sight of his purposeful stride toward them and began folding her sheets carefully. “I s’pose you’ll want to ride on out of here in a hurry after this.”

Beca gave her a short jerk of her head, barely a nod in acknowledgement. She’d rather walk in front of the line at a firing range than talk to Jesse but that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment. Beca gave a pained sigh and tightened the control on her anger and bitterness. “Yeah. Mind roundin’ up our girls for the ride to the mine?”

Aubrey gave and nod as she picked up her Stetson from an empty chair and placed it on her head firmly. Beca tried not to smirk when her friend intentionally pushed past Jesse with a hard shoulder bump. He watched her go with a hand on his shoulder for a long moment before he turned his attention back to Beca. She sighed again and slowly slid the glasses off her face, tucking them away carefully as he closed the remainder of the distance between them. “Beca…”

“Jesse.” She leaned back in her chair when he pressed his hip against the edge of the table, pushing that much more into her personal space. Beca’s fingers drummed on the tabletop in irritation but she refused to walk away this time. Whatever wound was between them it needed to be laid bare or it would keep festering, never healing.

He seemed relieved that she was alone and let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been looking for ya. Alone at last seems like.” Jesse pulled up a chair, close to hers and took one of her smaller hands in his. “Bec. I am so sorry. I know words ain’t enough right now, I know I gotta show my hand, and I swear I will. Ya just gotta know how sorry I am. I thought you were dead. I thought…I thought I would be too if I went after you.”

Beca believed every word he said but it didn’t change things. She pulled her hand free from his not caring at all about the look of loss on his face when she did so. “I know that Jesse. I’ve been knowing that since the moment you get go of my hand when they were pulling me out of the back of the wagon.”

There was a visible flinch at the stark truth of her words but he didn’t try to argue them. “You have to know Beca. I would have come for you. I don’t know what…she…told you but I would have come.” Maybe he would have but she didn’t think so at all. He had his chance for that when Chloe, Aubrey and Stacie had come for her and he didn’t take it and hadn’t even waited around to see if they’d make it.

“Yeah I reckon that’s a load of horse shit.” Beca crossed her arms over her chest, letting the anger spark in her eyes. “How long Jesse?” His puzzled brown eyes went wide in question and she shook her head with an exasperated snort. “How long did you wait before you took off on a horse you stole from the Beale barn? Did you even wait for the dust to clear or just you just run the second no one was there to judge you for it?”

He flinched again, his face going pale then red as he fought his own anger at being called out for what he’d done. “It’s not like that Beca…I thought the law would be headed right that way. I for sure thought they’d be just as dead as…” Jesse swallowed thickly and slumped his shoulders. “I thought they’d be just as dead as you. I wanted to go get help.”

She snorted again and rested a hand on the heavy Bible in front of her. He knew as well as she did that there was no help to be had from anyone. Their whole crew had been cut down by a Gatlin. The ones that hadn’t died straight off only suffered with pain and infection for a few days before their final end. Sometimes she could still hear them screaming in fits of pain, begging for mercy and water from their cells. Their cries of pain as horrible as the deafening silence of their abrupt stop and the smell of dank decay clinging in the air. “What do you want from me Jesse? Huh? Absolution? I can’t give it, that’s between you and God now.”

It was his turn to snort and he pushed at the edge of the book under her hand. “Never figured you for the religious type. What with the drinkin’ and swearin’ and all that damn thievin’ we got up to. This isn’t you, Beca. This ain’t the real you. Readin’ and carrying on with a woman…I know the real you Becs. I know the woman I married.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk of unamused humor at the implication that she was something or someone else. She wasn’t particularly religious but she was trying to be a better person, be someone Chloe deserved to have in her life even if she had to do it in a less than Christian way. And maybe she didn’t agree with every word of the Bible, maybe she hadn’t quite yet figured out what she thought of it at all, but she knew there was someone Jesse would eventually have to settle up with for his life on earth.

“The woman you married died when you let her get dragged off across the desert ground to hang for you.”

Pain filled his eyes and he reached out to squeeze her hand apologetically. “Beca now listen, we can fix this. I can be better. We could still be together. We can take our chances in Mexico…just us. We can forget all the stuff behind us and start fresh.”

Anger rose up in a hot wave and she stood abruptly from the table. It was just like him to think she could ever move on with him. Just like him to think she could ever forget about Chloe. Jesse’s problem was that he didn’t understand that she could never love him the way she loved Chloe. “I’ll tell you this once Jesse Swanson. There is no ‘us’ and there’s no me without Chloe. Outside of this last ride, you got nothin’ I want in my life or my bed.”

His temper flared as quickly as hers had, it was what had made them such a chaotic force when they were together. Each with too much pride and not enough sense, full of youthful stupidity. Jesse grabbed her tightly pulling their bodies close together in a way that once used to make her swoon but now only made her feel ill. “I know there’s still something between us Beca Mitchell, I know you want me still. If I have to play rough then I will but so help me I’m takin’ my damn wife back.”

Beca tipped her head back and slammed it forward into his face with a solid crack. Jesse’s hands released immediately and she pushed him off of her to stumble back into the table. “People change Jesse, I’m not the girl you knew and you’re not the man I thought you’d be. I’m not interested in anything you have to offer and I’m not your wife. I’m hers.” It should have been the end of it, it should have been the last word but Beca knew it was just one too many sucker punches to his pride to ever be so clean an end. She wasn’t at all surprised by the venom and childish hurt in his voice as it carried over to where she was already strolling away.

“I don’t recall you complainin’ much on what I had to offer when my cock was in your mo….”

The crash was a thunderous clatter cutting off his words with explosive force. Beca spun on a heel in time to see Jesse staggering forward to his knees and an enraged Chloe tossing the remains of a chair over her shoulder.

“I’ll kill you, you sonofabitch!”

Beca took a step toward to try and get between them, force them to stop but sudden warmth of Stacie’s strong arm looped around her middle, holding her back. It was hard to miss the amusement in the taller woman’s tone as Chloe delivered a savage kick to Jesse’s ribs that probably broke a few bones.

“Don’t. Let ‘er have this one.”