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brittaden · 5 years ago

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Zoey’s Extraordinary Ride Home

Summary: When Joan invited Zoey out to celebrate her divorce and prove that she was fun, Zoey never imagined the night would end in literal flames and an unforgettable ride home. Ignores the ending for the latest episode, "Zoey's Extraordinary Night Out." No family emergencies happens and Zoey finds another way home.

AO3 FF

"I'm not ready to go!"

Zoey ignored her boss' drunken whines and continued to help her down the steps to the sidewalk and out to the idled car, which was difficult in and of itself since Joan was much taller than she was. "The party is over Joan. We have to go."

"But I was having fun!" Joan whined again as Zoey fruitlessly tried to force her into the waiting car. "I was Joan-ing the night!"

Zoey groaned, frustrated, when Joan twirled away from her and began to shimmy down the sidewalk. This time as her boss began to sing about boys touching her junk, Zoey wasn't so sure if the music was in her head, because she was also twirling around a light pole and the people around them were beginning to take notice. And not the kind of taking notice where they would either begin to harmonize vocals or suddenly be a back-up dancer in a big musical number that only she could see. This was the kind of taking notice where she needed to intervene of her boss would be the gossip around the cereal bar in the morning.

"Joan!" Zoey yelled out, slightly horrified, before taking off towards her boss and grabbing her arm before she made a complete fool of herself. "Party's over, we have to Joan home."

That killed the mood.

"Leave those to me, Zo Zo Zo your boat," Joan said as she slinked off the light pole and sulked toward the awaiting car. "I'm better at it. I'm fun."

"Yes, you are very fun," Zoey agreed because it was the truth, Joan was surprisingly fun. And drunk. And now increasingly hard to wrangle and wrestle into the car. "But I think we both had enough fun for one night."

She laughed and leaned down into Zoey's face, "Especially you," she teased with a little boop to her nose.

Zoey scrunched her nose and wafted away the fumes coming from her boss because Joan was several more drinks in than she was and she smelled like she had bathed in tequila. She wasn't even going to try to understand what Joan meant because this night had been one disaster after another and none of it ranked any level of fun on her scale. She just wanted to go home, change into sweats, and be alone with no one's thoughts but her own because those came without giant musical numbers that usually further complicated things.

But first, before the comfy sweats, she had to get her boss into the car and safely home. And that was another challenge because Joan had slipped out of her grasp yet again and was now talking to Karen from Accounting who she wouldn't stop referring to as Karen from Accounting. Not just using her first name but adding the whole 'from accounting' with every breath.

"Sorry Karen," Zoey sheepishly apologized before pressing her hands to Joan's back and not-so-gently pushing her towards the car.

"Goodnight Karen from Accounting!" Joan tossed a hand in the air and waved as she was pushed towards the car. Which she fought.

Zoey sighed, exasperated and drunk herself. "Joan," she whispered, rubbing her hands down her face. "Can you please just get into the car? It's late and I'm drunk and I just want to go home but you need to get into the car first."

Joan's face wrinkled with disgust. "I don't want to go to your home. I've seen the way you dress; your house is probably worse. If that's possible."

Zoey wasn't going to take offense to that. That comment was just Joan in her natural habitat and Zoey happened to like the way she decorated her apartment. "We're not going to my house. You're getting in this car and going home. And I'll get into another car and go home."

"Or," Joan began with a smile of her face, "We both get into this car and go to a bar!"

"Joan! Get in the car now!"

Zoey's stern tone startled Joan but it didn't kill the buzz of the alcohol as she stared her smaller counterpart down. "Bossy. I like it."

Zoey ignored whatever the hell kind of look her boss was currently giving her because it wasn't an "I'm so impressed with you" look, it was more akin to the "Should I Stay or Should I Go" look that happened in her living room last night and if she was given the option right now, she needed to go. To wipe that look that Joan was still giving her out of her head.

"Joan. Car. Please," Zoey stammered out the words as she opened up the door for her boss, who was no longer fighting with her and easily slid into the backseat of the car.

Zoey breathed a sigh of relief and went to apologize to the driver for taking so long when she was stopped in her tracks by her boss calling her name.

"Zoey!"

She turned back because even if they were both drunk and not in a work setting and she was incredibly tired, she couldn't ignore her boss. "Yes Joan?"

"Get in the car."

Zoey shook her head. "No, Joan, we're not going to another bar."

"I'm taking you home," she said matter-of-factly.

Zoey stammered again because the look from earlier was back and she stumbled backwards as she spoke. "I was going to get another car and just go home from there."

"Zoey Roller, I'll take you home," Joan assured her. "Your home, not my home. But I'm going to my home."

"Okay," She agreed because it was the simpler option at the moment and she hadn't yet called a car for herself and it was getting very late. Plus, she didn't want to risk not being able to find a car and being stuck out here. Not after what happened inside. "Let's go."

As Zoey climbed into the backseat and shut the car door behind her, Joan was leaning forward and trying and failing to give the driver Zoey's address. Zoey leaned in as well but instead of giving him her address, she rattled of Joan's.

"But that's my address," Joan said, her face adorably scrunched in confusion.

Zoey leaned back in her seat. "I know."

Joan slumped back in her seat, still confused. "You're going to my house?"

Zoey shook her head. Joan might not remember this in the morning, given the number of drinks she had tonight, but this portrayal of her boss would be hard to shake. "No, we're just taking you home first because you've had a lot to drink."

"Because I'm fun," Joan said while pointing a finger at herself.

"Fun," Zoey agreed with a nod of her head and a smile. "And very drunk."

Joan giggled, "Yeah, that too."

The car began to pull away from the sidewalk and away from the disastrous events of the night and Zoey began to find solace in the fact that she was in the back of the car with her boss and was the one making sure the she got home safe and sound. After all, someone needed to be that person. And with all the events that had unfolded within the past couple of weeks, she wasn't at all surprised that this all fell to her. Zoey also found solace in the fact that getting into the back of the car seemed to be the remedy to finally shut Joan down as she was currently resting back against the leather seat with her eyes closed.

Zoey stared out the window as the lights whizzed by and blurred into one and she almost wished that she could hear their driver's thoughts through song to get her mind off of tonight. Everything that had happened between Simon and his fiancée had ended in flames. Literally. She had set her mom's gorgeous rose wall on fire. Accidentally, of course. But still there had been flames and all the blame fell to her. The party ended pretty quickly after that and when she saw Joan about to dance on yet another bar, this time for real and not just in her head, she picked that time to make her escape. With Joan by her side complaining that she wasn't quite ready to leave even if everyone else was already heading to the door.

Zoey was lost in her own non-musical thoughts over how awkward things were going to be between her and Simon from now on, that she only caught the tail end of Joan's latest drunken rambling.

"What did you say?" Zoey asked as she turned to her head to find her boss staring at her.

"You can do better," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zoey blew out a breath. The last thing she wanted tonight was a lecture on her management style from her boss. But still she asked, "Better at what, Joan?"

"Not that." Joan shook her head. "I'm talking about Simon."

"I..uh...I don't know what you're talking about."

She tried to play the clueless card but, even drunk, Joan was smarter than that. "You know what I mean."

Zoey stayed quiet. She did know what Joan meant. Simon was not an option. He shouldn't have been an option once she learned he was engaged but she had feelings and though she tried to deny them, it didn't quite work out. But after tonight, he definitely wasn't an option. They could be friends. But that's it. Nothing more. It would be hard but she could manage.

"Yeah," she finally agreed. "I know what you're talking about."

"I mean it," Joan replied, her voice soft. "You're brilliant Zoey, there's a reason I picked you."

Zoey could feel her cheeks warming up and questioned if it was from the alcohol hitting her or the sentiments coming from her boss. Joan must've been of the ones that got sentimental and emotional when they drank because this was a stark difference from how she was at work. She enjoyed seeing this side of her boss, even if Joan was most likely to forget this by the morning. Actually, that was probably for the better.

She smiled. "Thanks Joan."

Joan returned the smile and continued with the sentiments. "You deserve someone that sees your potential and thinks you're amazing."

Zoey shifted in her seat because she was the type of person that didn't readily accept compliments. Sure, it was nice to hear but what was she supposed to say that? Coming from a friend, it might've been different. But this was her boss, who she didn't have a real bond with until the past couple of weeks. And that was only because she now had a musical super power that complicated and kind of enriched her life. She just smiled and nodded since it looked like Joan was seeking a response.

"Charlie wasn't like that," Joan divulged as her smile started to fade. "At least not towards the end. Or the middle. He was all about Charlie."

"I'm sorry," Zoey apologized for a lack of a better response because she was not good at comforting people.

Joan shrugged her shoulders. "It's over now."

"His loss."

The older woman laughed at that, her smile returning. "Oh, I'm sure. Right now, he's probably bedding someone half my age."

Zoey cringed at that. It was awkward enough trying to figure out the whole Satisfaction talk with Joan; she didn't need any details of any semblance of sex life of her boss or boss' ex-husband's sex life. Or anyone's really for that matter. But still she felt the need to comfort her boss.

"I mean if you wanted too, I'm sure you could..." She failed at comforting Joan and started to laugh because, even drunk, this was too awkward of a conversation. "I'm sorry, I was trying to say something nice."

"Please don't," Joan said as she started to laugh. "I'm fine, Zoey. It's for the best."

"Okay."

"Really," Joan insisted, falling to the spot above Zoey's knee and giving it a pat for reassurance. She let her hand linger there. "And thank you...for everything."

That look was back and compared with the hand above her knee, Zoey could only nod her head and give a short reply of, "No problem."

Joan just smiled at her. "You look pretty tonight, Zoey. This is a step up."

"Thanks," Zoey replied, confused by the compliment that was almost back-handed. "I wore your shoes. Well the shoes you bought me."

She leaned slightly forward, her gaze roaming over the shoes she had purchased for Zoey then over her dressed-up coworker. "Now I know why I like the outfit."

The younger woman shifted again in her seat, growing uncomfortable under her boss' gaze but she could also feel something else stirring inside of her, the longer that Joan continued to watch her and the longer that her hand remained on the spot above her knee. But what she was feeling couldn't possibly be what she was feeling. Nope. This was just a terrible cocktail of alcohol and disastrous events that filled her night. There were not any other feelings developing other than the feeling that she was ready to be home and in bed.

She could feel that the car had stopped and heard the driver announce that they were at the first destination but Joan had started to stroke her fingers where her hand rested and Zoey was at a loss for what to do. But before she could tell Joan that they were parked out in front of her house, the older woman reached out with her other hand and gently stroked the side of her face.

At this moment, Zoey wished she could hone her powers and hear anyone's thoughts through song at any given moment because it would be incredibly useful to hear what Joan was thinking right now. Joan didn't leave her guessing for long though as she leaned in and brushed her lips against hers.

She could taste the tequila on Joan's lips and she was expecting her to pull back just as soon as she leaned in and just call it a drunken misstep due to her first night out as a single lady, that was a thing, right? But Joan didn't pull away. No, she cupped Zoey's face in her hand and held her closer as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue ran softly along the seam of Zoey's lips, encouraging her.

Maybe it was just the alcohol but Zoey felt herself beginning to melt into the kiss and Joan's light touches. Her lips were incredibly soft and warm, and that boast earlier about being able to tie a cherry stem with her tongue was definitely true. Which is not something she thought she'd find out about her boss tonight but right now, there were no complaints.

Distantly, she heard the driver announce once again that they had reached their destination and Joan must've heard them too because she pulled back from the kiss. But she remained close enough so that when she spoke, her words ghosted across Zoey's lips.

"Haven't done that in a while."

At a loss for words at that confession and the kisses that had her lips tingling, Zoey pulled further back. As Joan turned away from her and reached for the car door handle, Zoey began to hear music building up in the background that was soon followed by her boss' voice singing along to the beat.

"So, we laughed, compared notes, we had a drink," Joan sang as she exited the car. "We had a smoke, she took off her overcoat."

Zoey watched as her boss swayed to the music and continued to sing as she walked towards the house looming in the distance. But with the next lyric, Joan turned to face Zoey again.

"I kissed a girl, I kissed a girl."

With that, Zoey scrambled across the car seat and quickly slammed the door shut. Through the closed car door, she could still hear her boss singing about how they kissed and she was trying to remember as many of the lyrics as she could to look up the song later and ask Mo's opinion of the song, hopefully without giving too much away.

Needing to get away from the song and everything that had just happened, Zoey quickly told the driver her address and asked him to make the trip as quick as possible. As the car began to drive away, the music and lyrics began to fade and Zoey buried her head in her hands and asked herself one question.

"What the fuck?"

#zoeys extraordinary playlist #zoeys playlist #zoey x joan #my writing #yes i know this is an unrealistic pairing #that's not going to stop me though

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dregstrash · 5 years ago

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jealousy, that thing with claws (pt.7)

A/N: Here it is folks the last chapter!! I’m sorry it took so long for this to get out into the world. I can’t begin to describe how thankful I am for all of you who have read this. I wasn’t expecting so many people to want this story, and was so pleasantly surprised when it became a reality. Thank you for showing Petya love, and for always supporting my writing! So, without further ado, hope everyone enjoys!!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||

Also now on Ao3!

Tagging: @kestrel-of-herran @ipizzippy @stormwitch-privateer @queenghafa @ysitsohardtofindaname @shadowylighting @alittlelark @privateerrezni @terrywho-cartoons

Nikolai was going to kill Zoya. This time she went too far, and now his ass hurts as his horse raced through the battle torn field.

He would have let her go-- if she had asked him. Not that she needed his permission to do anything, but if she had asked or at least let him know he would have sent troops with her. He would have assigned some Grisha out of their guard duties to accompany her. But no. She heard the news that the the Fjerdans had started a skirmish in Petya’s hometown and she had left in the dead of night.

No word. No message. Just an empty room when Nikolai came to her door to ask if she was alright with the news.

His stomach had dropped to his feet when he had first realized where she had gone. For one second, all the hope that Petya had given him that there might be the slimmest of chances that Zoya and him could be something more substantial disappeared. But that disheartening possibility was quickly replaced with bone chilling worry.

As Nikolai rushed to get supplies together for his reckless solo journey, images of Zoya being struck down by a Fjerdan hand or fighting a mass of enemies by herself kept blocking his vision. And no assurances that she was going to be fine would calm his racing heart.

It was more than half a day’s ride to Petya’s home town, but by the fifth hour of his pace, Nikolai began to hear the sounds of a raging battle and he felt what little breath he had leave his lungs as his horse crested the hill and the battle worn land assaulted his eyes.

The city was being sieged and bodies were littered on both sides. Nikolai’s mind tunneled down to where most of the battle was taking place, and he didn’t think he could have been any happier to see a small tornado ripping through the Fjerdans line of defense.

He nudged his already tired horse down and drew his pistol from his side.

All in all it took him about fifteen minutes to finally cut his way through where Zoya and Petya were. But it felt like years had passed.

Nikolai’s horse was unfortunately struck down by a Fjerdan gun, and he very happily reciprocated the kindness to the shooter. Then there was the brief scuffle he faced with three other Fjerdan soldiers that left him with no more than a bruised side and maybe a fracture to one of his fingers. That didn’t matter, though, what mattered that his adrenaline was up, his heart was beating, and that Zoya had the most amusing look of surprise on her face.

“What in all the saints are you doing here?” She cried.

Before Nikolai could answer a round of shots from the other side had sounded off, and on instinct Nikolai ducked towards Zoya, covering her in the circle of his arms. The shots stopped for a half a second, and without thinking, both of them had shot up from their cover and delivered an attack of their own. The soldiers who were still standing fired at will, and Zoya releasing a tidal wave to the offending line.

Nikolai took the time to really look at the other side of the battlefield and cursed as he spotted the tank that Brekker had told him about last time they had a civil conversation.

He scanned the faces of the men and women soldier around him.

“Xander, Kuwei,” Nikolai bellowed, the two Grisha startled at the sound of their names but didn’t hesitate to approach him. “You need to stop that tank before the Fjerdans decide they need to use it. Take three more foot soldiers with you for cover. GO!”

There was no time to have second thoughts. The two went off, and Nikolai turned back to Zoya, only to find her struggling over an unconscious man, leaving her guard completely open.

“Zoya!” Nikolai yelled as he spied an enemy soldier sneaking up behind her.

She didn’t turn around fast enough and before anything happened, Nikolai soundly put a bullet through his skull.

“I don’t need your help!” She yelled at him, even as she struggled to pull the man up with her.

“Obviously you--” Nikolai’s retort died on his lips as soon as he recognized the figure in her arms.

It was Petya. He was covered in dirt, and his shirt had been torn bloody. His left arm was mangled, and from what Nikolai could see, his chest was hardly moving.

“What happened?” Nikolai came up on Petya’s other side and helped Zoya get him into more cover.

“Those feral ice beasts had thrown a grenade right at this house that hadn’t been cleared yet. Petya had gotten the little girl out, but not before it went off and this fucking house landed on top of him. We need to get him to the Medik on the other side of the village.” Zoya said frantically.

The regular stab of jealousy that Nikolai was oddly getting used to took another hit on his heart, but this was neither the time nor place. Petya was injured. Zoya cared enough about him to risk her own bloody life for him. And if saving this man was what it took for Zoya to be happy, then so be it.

“Zo, you’re not going to be able to make it all the way to the Medik tent. And someone needs to stay here to organize this chaos.” Nikolai said grunting as Petya’s weight shifted more to his side. “I’ll take Petya. We need to end this fight here and now before other villages get the wrong end of a tank in their face.”

Zoya met Nikolai’s gaze over Petya’s unconscious head, and despite the war that was raging around them, he had to pause. He just needed one more moment to drink in the intensity of her blue-heated gaze, the righteous fury that always burned so brightly, the sharp lines her face made when she was about to do something dangerous. It was a look he loved-- would always love.

And this might be the last time that this look would be directed towards him.

An explosion sounded off to the west side of the battlefield and reality came crashing back in.

Nikolai forcibly took Petya away from Zoya, and grunted as he deadman-lifted his friend.

“I’ll see you again, Nikolai.” Zoya said simply. A state of truth that wasn’t to be contested.

His tired muscles were beginning to fully take in Petya’s weight, but even so, he managed a weak smile and said, “I’ll hold you to that, Nazyalensky.”

The moon was full tonight. A good sign for the future, Nikolai hoped, because after today, he could use a good sign or maybe twenty more.

Thankfully, Xander and Kuwei were able to stop the tank before anything happened, but not before Xander suffered a nasty blow to the head. Nikolai didn’t think Kuwei had it in him, but he managed to drag Xander all the way back to the Medik and hasn’t left his side since.

The boy had potential, and maybe it was time Nikolai started paying attention to that.

Once the tank was safely dispatched, it was almost clockwork the way his soldiers were able to beat the Fjerdans back to a retreat. Nikolai wasn’t able to get to the front lines once he saw the utter chaos the village had been under. No one had really taken charge of keeping supplies safe or which injured gets the most attention. His soldiers were off on patrols, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to bring order to the frantic chaos.

He had left Petya in the care of one of the better Corporalkis, and had thrown himself to work. He needed to do something. He couldn’t sit beside an unconscious man, letting thoughts of Zoya drive him insane.

So he organized supplies, assured the citizens of the village, helped with making more defense measures around the safe haven his soldiers had managed to carve out in the midst of the attack. He did everything he could until there was nothing left to do, and he looked up to see that night had fallen.

Exhaustion was deep in his bones. He could feel it settled and coat his muscles, but sleep was the last thing on his mind.

“You never answered my question.” Her voice came out of the shadow of trees, and he didn’t bother turning around to meet her.

He just kept staring up at the moon, and focused on the hard bark biting into his back.

But Zoya was never one to be ignored so she stood right in front of him, forcing him to look up and see her dark hair silhouetted by the moonlight, casting her face in an ethereal glow.

“You’re going to have to specify, my dear Nazyalensky.” Nikolai sighed, “If the question is how one can look so good sitting in the moonlight, I won’t have any answers for you. One can only--”

“I asked you what you were doing here.” She said irritably. “A small village battle is hardly any notice for a king.”

“And I’d argue that it’s no place for a general either, but I’m a much smarter man to really contest anything you say.” Nikolai smirked, hoping against all hopes that she’d leave him alone.

It hurt having her glaring at him like that. It hurt that despite everything, there was still this niggling doubt that she’d still choose someone else, and that he’d have to be okay with that.

“You shouldn’t be here, Nikolai.”

“Well, it seemed like everyone was was doing reckless things for people they care about and I refuse to not be on trend. I’m king after all. It should be setting those kinds of precedence.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Zoya huffed in exasperation, and finally dropped to sit in front of him.

“Petya needed my help.”

“Clearly.”

“His village was going to be destroyed if it wasn’t for me.”

“I’m sure they’ll erect a statue in your honor.”

“You would have done the same for a friend.”

Whatever snarky reply was sitting on Nikolai’s tongue evaporated, as the word friend rang in between them.

It was such a simple word-- an overused one if he was honest, but with one word the dark cloud that was pressing against his chest began to lift.

“A friend?” He said slowly. He watched Zoya’s face carefully, desperately trying to read her face for any hint to the thoughts that were going on in her mind.

“A friend.” She shrugged, “I’m assuming you know what those are.”

“I do. Because that’s what we are, unless those hours of you calling me an idiot were telling me something else.”

All of Nikolai’s unspoken sentiments were hanging in the air. His questions, his doubts, his feelings were an undercurrent to the calm waves of his tone, and he’d never admit himself to be cowardly. But in this moment, with Zoya looking at him curiously, he couldn’t make his mouth form what he really wanted to say. For once, he was speechless, and he was in the complete mercy of Zoya who was looking at him oddly.

“I--” Zoya started, but quickly groaned in frustration. Nikolai started to smirk, he almost started to say he’d wait all night for her response, instead the next thing he knew Zoya’s mouth was pressed against his and her hands were clutching to the front of his dirtied shirt pulling him closer.

He wrapped his arms around her, tilting his head a little more to get a better angle, and he’d gladly fight another ten Fjderan soldiers if that’s what it took for Zoya to make that small moan that she gave when he had started nibbling on her lower lip.

“You’re still an idiot, Nikolai.” Zoya said as she rested her forehead against his, “But for some reason that’s supposed to be endearing to me.”

Nikolai laughed slightly and then brought their lips back together. He still didn’t know what this thing between them was, or what this kiss could mean, but he did know that this was a start--it was a beginning, and that was enough.

#zoyalai #jealous nikolai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lanstov #nikolai x zoya #king of scars #kos #im going to cry tears of joy #i finally finished this #im so damn happ #i dont even care if no one finds interest in this story anymore #i finished this wip #and i am so happy

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aliceslantern · 5 years ago

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Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Chapter summary: Ienzo has an unexpectedly insightful interaction with Demyx, only to fall ill.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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After another fifteen hour day of getting nothing accomplished, of feeling Even and Ansem silently seething at one another… Ienzo walked. He needed some peace, some time to decompress. Perhaps he should take up meditating. He did so miss Zexion’s ability to simply push away negative thoughts.

Negative emotion is natural. Then why can’t you deal with it, Even?

It might have been years since he lived at this castle, but the muscle memory was intense; he took himself to one of his favorite childhood haunts without quite realizing. The crystal greenhouse had been abandoned and emptied even when he was a boy, forgotten in staff changeovers by the groundskeepers. When he needed to escape the others’ wittering over him, easier to come here than to hide in the library, because there they knew to find him. At one point he’d had it rather nicely tricked out, squirreling away blankets and pillows, favorite storybooks, the odd toy he’d found or been given. Just to sit in silence for a time might be enough.

But when he got there, to his surprise and indignation, someone was already there. A faint flush of rage brought the blood to his face. An enormous castle and my one space is desecrated. I suppose this is karma, isn’t it? Out of curiosity, or, he figured, apprehension, he took a few more steps towards the shed, trying to keep his tread light. (Ienzo was also much clumsier than Zexion. This made absolutely no sense to him--perhaps a defect in the inner ear post recompletion?)

It clicked, and he wasn’t sure if his irritation worsened or lessened. He could hear the soft, light, unique sound of Demyx’s sitar.

Some force seemed determined to shunt them into the same room. Why? And was it worth investigating?

He knocked on the closed crystal door. It needed a good cleaning, like everything else here. He couldn’t see clearly, just Demyx’s shape, the way he started a little at the unexpected intrusion. “It’s Ienzo,” he said. Always weird to hear that name, to say it. “Sorry to frighten you.”

Demyx stood and opened the door. He seemed loath to meet Ienzo’s eyes, his energy immediately and noticeably lower than it usually was. “How’d you find me?”

“Believe it or not--this used to be my childhood hideout.”

He considered this. “All that stuff was yours, then,” he said. He laughed a little. “Figured it was some gardener’s kid.”

“Out of curiosity--what did you do with it?”

He shrugged. “A lot of the books were waterlogged, the blankets and stuff moldy or eaten by bugs and stuff. I had to toss it. I’d say come in--but this is more your space than mine, right?” He turned away from Ienzo, settling back down onto a tasseled cushion. Arpeggio sat idly, nakedly, between them. He rested his hands on his knees.

Ienzo took it all in slowly. Demyx had left some things here too; a succulent, a lantern, a few books of staff paper, some more cushions, a threadbare rug covering the cold stone floor. He realized that he must have been coming here for some time.

“Sit down, if you want,” he said, in that same tired voice. “Might as well, if you came all the way over.”

Ienzo did so. The cushion was lumpy, but his feet were glad for the relief. “Why here?” he asked. “Out of all the places you could go? I’m… curious.” Ienzo noticed his eyes for the first time; namely, that they were red, damp, a bit swollen.

“Well… mostly, to find somewhere I could practice in peace,” he said. “Dilan told me off. Said he could hear me through the walls--the guy must have the best hearing alive. The stone is so thick. Anyway, I… started looking. Not much of anything better to do, and… exploring this place gave me something to look forward to. I saw this place, the stuff. So I sat down. Turns out crystal has pretty good acoustics. Listen.” He reached over and plucked one open string; Ienzo heard the sound ring cleanly in the small space. “And that was that. You could… have it back.”

He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. Why am I entitled to things after a long absence?”

Demyx shrugged.

He was almost loath to ask it, but then he thought of what Kairi said over their tea. “Are you… alright? You don’t seem yourself.”

“Kinda too tired to put on the happy-go-lucky act. Sorry.”

This only confirmed Ienzo’s suspicions. “So it’s an act. All of it?”

Demyx looked vaguely caught. “I guess… some of it must be me, for it to have been here so long. But lately things have gotten… harder. For no reason.” He wrinkled his nose. “Finding that energy to be who I was is… a lot. Especially after a long day of work.”

“Who are you now?”

A smirk. “I could say the same. If this happened this months ago, me in your space, you would have dropped some very choice dry insults and tattled on me to Saïx or Xemnas. Now you’re just sitting here talking to me.”

Ienzo felt something unraveling. Demyx knew all too well his identity crisis. Unlike Even, or Dilan, or Aeleus, they didn’t have the benefit of being alive until adulthood prior to becoming Nobodies. Demyx’s tenure might have been less than half of his, his misdeeds not nearly as egregious, but he could still relate. “Being Ienzo… is…” He didn’t want to get personal, but the words threatened like vomit.

“Being a person is a fucking nightmare,” Demyx said simply.

He actually laughed--not a chuckle, but a hard laugh. “Right you are.”

He smiled a little, the dullness retreating just a touch. “My feelings seem too big for my body,” he admitted. “At least I still have Arpeggio, so I can try and play them. But I’m not used to being a wreck.”

“What is it you feel?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I really want to know. I wonder if our experiences might be… similar.”

He let out a long breath. “Honestly? I’m mad. I’m so angry.”

The last thing Ienzo expected. “At whom?”

He spread his hands. “Myself, mostly.”

Despite himself, he was fascinated. This was the first time he’d had any insight into Demyx’s mind--and it was a vastly different place than he’d expected. “Why?”

“Why--” He took a deep breath. “Any--any number of reasons, okay? Like. First of all, why did I just--do what I was told, in the Organization?”

“When you weren’t slacking off, you mean,” Ienzo said.

“You know what I mean,” he continued. “Why did I let him convince me to do all those awful things? Why didn’t I care? I could’ve just run away, and I… didn’t. That guy. All the shit he did, and he just gets to up and die without paying for any of it.” His voice rose and fell as he spoke.

“I’m mad at myself too,” Ienzo said softly.

“Looks like we actually have something in common,” Demyx said dryly.

“I… suppose we do.” He shifted his weight a little.

“And it’s just like… now what? I’m here. I’m alive. Does that mean anything? Is this just the fucking chaos of the universe?”

“I know I seek to… pay for what I did, as you so put it.” How odd he felt, confessing this. “I need to help people, however I can.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

Another question that threatened to gut him. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

“Well, frankly, after all the people I indirectly killed, seeking pleasure or fulfillment is completely mastubatory.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So being miserable all your life is going to make up for that? Thought you were smarter, Zo.”

Ienzo scowled. “As if you would understand the depravity.”

He flushed. “Why wouldn’t I? I made worlds fall too, you know. They don’t all become Heartless. And the ones that came back, were reborn, are going to be dealing with PTSD out the ass forever. Being miserable is like pissing on their graves.”

“So what, we live for them?”

“Sure as hell don’t make it all be in vain.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I’m still trying to figure out how not to cry at complete random.”

There was a tension in here too, elastic. Ienzo felt oddly exposed; vulnerable, he realized. They were both breathing hard, but he suspected they weren’t angry at each other.

“I can’t--understand all these highfalutin ideas you all spit out. I only know that for whatever reason I’m alive, so I’m going to live as hard as I can.” He dropped his eyes. “And if I can do good stuff, then all the better.”

“...I see your vocabulary has improved since you’ve been here.”

Demyx shrugged. “Got to. For survival.”

“If it… helps,” he said, “I know the restoration committee is always looking for extra pairs of hands. You’re already familiar in the town, given your work. That’s as good an inroads to helping people as any. Should my trials with Sora ever end… I may decide to follow suit. I’m educated. The least I could do is put that to use.” Should he survive the process.

They were both deflated now, exhausted. Demyx nodded once. Then, after a long moment, “Do you ever think about what we missed?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Our lives. What they might have been like without the Organization.”

“A masochistic thought experiment.”

“Maybe, but…” He bit his lip. “It’s also part of why I’m so mad. We could’ve just been guys. Had friends, gone to school, the whole nine yards. Hell, maybe we could’ve really been friends.”

Ienzo raised an eyebrow. “I… am not sure if I can withstand thinking about it.” It was a naked admission, one that made him feel that way.

Demyx canted his head again. “Oh? Why not?”

“It would mean writing off the majority of my life.”

He considered this. “How long were you a Nobody?”

He chuckled a little, darkly. “Twelve years.”

Demyx was quiet for a beat. Then, “Holy shit. Wait, wait, wait.” He spread his hands. “That means you were--when you became--you were eight ?”

“...Congratulations. You can do basic math.”

“How? I mean--well I guess I know how, but--” He seemed genuinely shocked. “Who would do that to a fucking kid? And--what happened to make you so strong willed?”

Ienzo bristled. He’d clearly said too much. Yet at the same time, this validation was… sweet? So why was he feeling moisture in his eyes?

“Didn’t the apprentices… willingly cast off hearts, or whatever?”

“I didn’t.”

He pursed his lips. “Oh,” he said, very softly. “Oh, Ienzo. I’m so…”

The lump in his throat tightened. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity you. I’m angry at how royally fucked over you were. First Ansem… now this…”

He tried to blink it back. The last thing he expected was a conversation with Demyx to unravel him so. Didn’t expect him to listen , much less care. It was something he’d put off dealing with for too long--and now it was coming at him, ready or not.

This was going to hurt.

Ienzo felt oddly paralyzed, fixed to the spot. He should have gotten up, hid himself away, before this breakdown began in earnest. It was like all his energy was devoted to trying to hold it back, especially after such a long, long, frustrating day. He wanted to ask Demyx to leave him, let him make a disgrace of himself in peace. But the only noise that left him was a sob.

“Ienzo…”

Humiliation and pain washed through in in equal portions. He pressed his face against his hands. The tears seemed almost involuntary.

“It hurts more if you fight it,” Demyx said softly. “Believe me. Been there, done that.”

This, if anything, only broke him further. Such a bizarre thing, to fall apart so heavily and completely, shards of himself twisting painfully within. Guilt, anger, self-loathing, and sadness; emotions long staved off. He could no longer tread the tide and was pulled rather abruptly under.

Ienzo felt a hand on his back, the touch unexpected but not unwelcome. It felt so odd to cry, more than his panic-induced tears. Like he was not quite in his body but all too embodied. He found himself relying on the presence of Demyx’s hand, clinging to that tenuous connection. The boy rubbed smooth circles in an attempt to soothe him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for it to stop. All he knew was that he had a rather awful sinus headache, and he was empty, weirdly numb, but the numbness was not as desirable as he’d thought. “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded terrible, and the humiliation invaded. It would’ve felt bad enough to have this happen on his own, much less in front of anyone else, much less Demyx. “This is mortifying.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “All things considered I think you earned a good cry.” He handed him a handkerchief. “Here.”

At least it was clean, Ienzo noted. He patted at his raw eyes. He was feeling dizzy again. “Please do not mention this again.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Shakily, Ienzo locked eyes with him. “I suppose now you know truly how much of a disaster I am.”

He pursed his lips. “What do you think I was doing before you came here? We’re all a goddamn mess, Zo.”

“I guess that is true.”

Demyx stood and offered Ienzo his hands. They were rough to the touch, callused and work-hardened. Against his own soft skin, it was somewhat disquieting to hold, though why? He certainly hadn’t felt that way when Riku touched him. Perhaps he was just feeling unacceptably raw. Demyx helped him to his feet, made Arpeggio vanish. “Let’s get some sleep,” he said.

And Ienzo did sleep that night, though not so well, jerked awake by odd memories of the time before--walking towards Ansem’s quarters, a large tome in his arms, Xehanort holding one of his hands. The discordance between the taste of ice cream and darkness in the basement lab. People screaming, begging for help, or mercy. Part of him had shut down, true, but part of him felt pleasure at making them this way-- “transforming” them for the sake of “the greater good.” Was it the positive attention he’d received, seeking the replace the love he’d lost from his parents, from the disappearance of Ansem? Was he simply evil to the core?

Ienzo sat up, nausea curdling his stomach. Very slowly, he went over to the bathroom, knelt over the toilet, and pulled back his hair. By the time he’d finished getting sick he feared he was dissociating, the world seeming a bit vague, a bit mottled, as though he were looking through a veil. He bumped into things, dropped his papers everywhere.

You don’t deserve to fall apart. Get it together. Kairi needs your help.

“...Ienzo?”

His head snapped up. Aeleus was in his guard uniform, ready to begin an endless round. “Aeleus,” he said in what he hoped was a neutral voice. “Good day.”

“You’re off to work, then?”

“Yes. As are you.” He stood, flinching at a crick in his back. Ienzo was fairly sure he felt less bitter towards Aeleus than the rest--even in the Organization days, the man had tried to protect him. Ienzo had no idea how involved Aeleus was in the plot to dispose of Ansem. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. “I hope you are well?”

“Enough, I suppose. Physically healthy. That’s all I can ask for.” The man’s face was so stoic. Did he feel as Ienzo did, all of these overwhelming emotions? He almost wanted to ask. At least, until Aeleus added, “You, on the other hand, look positively green. Are you ill?”

“Perhaps it is this poor lighting?” Ienzo suggested.

Something flickered in his blue eyes. “You mustn’t work if you’re unwell,” he said. “Always a bad habit of yours.”

Ienzo did not feel a swell of indignation, as he thought, but rather something like teariness. This man betrayed you , he made himself think. “Is it not curious how much poorer the human body is?” he said instead. “Some longed for humanity… to me it feels something like a great weakness. I wonder if you agree.”

Aeleus considered this. “It’s as though… I’ve lost parts of myself, but yet also gained parts of myself, if that makes sense.”

He sighed. “Well, on a literal level, you have.”

“I’m aware of the… uniqueness of your situation.”

He chuckled. “Interesting word choice.”

Aeleus cracked the slightest, smallest smile. Ienzo found himself missing their easy rapport, the way Aeleus never drove him into crazy spirals of thought as the others often did. He listened, he considered, he said what he meant. “You will come back from this, and be better than ever,” Aeleus said. “Unlike the rest of us… you have your entire life.”

“You’re merely middle aged--not old.”

“I find it… difficult, to grow.”

He was startled into honesty. “I… do as well.”

“This is our burden to bear… so to speak. At least we are all here, doing good things, and we have time.”

Did they? The longer Ienzo spent faffing about, the farther Sora could be slipping away… into darkness, perhaps, a darkness partially of his own creation--

(Basement screams, bodies dissolving--)

Ienzo heaved, and while he was not ill, the reaction was indeed very visible.

Aeleus took him by the elbow. "You need to get back to bed."

"I'll be fine--"

"Perhaps you can convince Even and Ansem with such faffery, but I won't stand for it. Come." He was significantly stronger than Ienzo; he could not fight the grip.

Ienzo knew he himself was not a small man, but compared to Aeleus he felt again a child. He shuddered, blinking back the sting of humiliation. "What do you propose I say, then?"

"That you are sick and cannot work."

Ienzo shook his head wearily. Which was worse; riding this out, or telling Aeleus he was not--physically, at least--ill? Each seemed equally emasculating.

Aeleus brought him back to his bedroom. "Change into something comfortable and lay down. I'll bring you something to settle your stomach."

Why did he listen? What would Aeleus do if Ienzo disobeyed him? The man had never raised a finger towards him, nor his voice; if Ienzo didn't do as he said, he'd likely only be disappointed.

How odd, to wear pajamas so late into the morning. He perched on the lip of his bed and rested his cheek on his knee. Before long, the door opened, and he was handed a mug which smelled of ginger. "I've made you late," Ienzo said.

"Dilan can handle it, I think."

He was shaking. Why? Was he truly ill, or was this yet more bizarre emotion?

Aeleus took off his glove and rested a large palm against Ienzo's forehead. "You are quite warm," he said, with a shake of the head. "Please tell me you won't run off the moment I turn my back."

He'd been planning on it, but instead he said, "Perhaps I will… work from here?"

He sighed heavily. "A compromise is better than nothing, I guess."

Ienzo sipped the tea. It warmed him, soothed the anxious ache in his breast. "You needn't stop for me," he said. "Thank you."

The barest flicker of a smile. "You may be grown now… but everyone needs to be cared for sometime. It is human."

"Is it?" He said, to himself.

A nod. "Quite. Get some rest. I'll check on you."

Ienzo drank down the rest of the tea. How odd, to be cared for. He bit his lip. He took out his tablet, with the intent to provide remote support… but found himself drifting.

---

The hand on his forehead was cold this time, not warm, and he started. "Sorry, child."

Ienzo blinked disjointedly, his vision blurry. "Even? What are you doing here?"

He cocked his head. "You're sick and I'm a doctor. I thought you'd understand as much."

He ignored the barb. "Kairi--"

"Is well and asleep. Ansem is working with her now. The fool is coding something again." A sigh. "Your temperature is back to normal. Must've been one of those short-term bugs."

Or intense anxiety, Ienzo thought, well aware that the symptoms were the same. "I see… I must apologize."

"Had you come down you could've given it to all of us-- including the girl. How do you feel now?"

He tried to curl his lips around the expected "fine" but instead said, "a little woozy."

"Could be dehydration. Or low blood sugar. Is your stomach settled enough to eat?" His tone lacked the stubbornness, the roughness Ienzo was used to from Vexen. Like that flicker of compassion he'd seen before. "Maybe some rice?"

"...Maybe…"

Even squeezed his shoulder gently. "It's alright, Ienzo. To be human… is to sometimes be ill." He sighed, then wrinkled his nose. "I've no doubt Demyx carried it in with him, and this place is a veritable vacuum."

"In an odd way… this is nostalgic."

He cocked his head. "You were of quite a delicate countenance, I admit. Though we never did teach you to take adequate care of yourself. Our bodies are not mere vessels--having been one, I can say it's a highly unpleasant experience." He sneered.

Ienzo instead looked at the buttons of Even's jacket when he said, "do you ever miss it?"

"What? That nightmare we got out of?"

He nodded.

"I'd like to be actualized enough to say… of course not." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yet… the challenges of this new life… are not to be underestimated. Are we not fools, if we do not rise up?" A tired sigh. "I do believe Ansem's waffling is getting to me. This is science--not philosophy."

"Perhaps a heart is one and the same," Ienzo mumbled. “It is more nebulous than we can ever hope to understand with logic.” Perhaps, then, with the intangible, with magic.

He chuckled; an odd, staccato sound, rarely heard. “Yes, but should I give up now, I’d be turning my back on close to thirty years of my career--and I’m loath to do so.”

Ienzo smiled. This was the first easy (in a manner of speaking) interaction he’d had with Even in weeks.

“What of you?”

He frowned. “You mean do I miss it?”

“Too sensitive a question?”

Ienzo rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling. “I miss the feeling of… stability, of concrete drive,” he said slowly. “Mostly the stability. I’m not sure if… well, I’m not sure if it were merely me, but… you know… All of that anxiety I had as a child… the trauma that came from my parents’ passing… it was gone. I could merely… be .”

Even put a hand to his chin. “That is very interesting… perhaps Nobodies’ minds not only reject the idea of a conscience, but also mental illness.” A pause, then. “Do you feel anxious now?”

Ienzo wanted to raise his hackles and snap or deflect. But he’d already opened himself this much. “Almost pathologically so,” he admitted. “I find it difficult to sleep as well.”

Something in Even shifted, away from the personal and more towards the clinical. “How often have you been feeling this way? Does it ever escalate into attacks?”

He exhaled. This was why he hadn’t said anything earlier; he didn’t want to get into it. “It is quite constant,” he said in a low voice. “Though I only ever panic when I wake from a nightmare.”

“Unfortunately nightmares are to be expected, all we’ve gone through.” A heavy sigh. “I’m hoping that… perhaps once you are used to humanity again, the anxiety will lessen. But you did have it quite intensely as a child. It may be… something to brace yourself for.”

Ienzo’s stomach was feeling sour again.

“I could give you medication,” he said. “Something to help metabolize all that excess stress. Is that something you want?”

He was plunged again into his ever-present well of shame. “A sign I simply can’t take the strain? The… weight of my own humanity?”

Even scowled. “Don’t be dramatic, boy,” he said. From “Ienzo, child” to “boy,” he thought. “You were a Nobody twelve years--you can’t simply switch back and expect there to be no repercussions. Why be needlessly in pain?”

Ienzo bit his lip.

“A stupid way to repent, if I do say so myself. Suffering… ” He scoffed. “Suffering now will not negate what happened, Ienzo.”

Demyx had said much the same thing. And these two were such opposite personalities. Perhaps that meant they were right?

Even squeezed his hand. The touch was unexpected. “I won’t make the decision for you, Ienzo, but please consider it. A lack of anxiety may give you a clearer head. May make it easier for you to… not only work, but live. It’s purely medical. ”

As if Even had ever been the expert in psychology. “...Quite.”

He shook his head; he knew the conversation was over. “I’ll bring you some rice.”

#retribution #ienzo #demyx #aeleus #even (kingdom hearts)#zemyx

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poetspade45-blog · 6 years ago

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Drip Kings

During our Toyota “Lakers Voices” live chat with Kyle Kuzma, I tasked him with a very important question: who’s the Drip King out of his young teammates?

We’ve overheard LeBron James – and Kuz, Brandon Ingram or Lonzo Ball – use that term before, as you may have if you listen to rap.

An up-and-coming fashion aficionado, Kuzma’s answer provided the kind of insight that I felt needed to be summarized in print form … and further investigated through subsequent conversations with Ingram and Ball.

Let’s start with the Q&A from Kuzma:

KYLE KUZMA

MT: If you had to pick a Drip King out of Ingram, Lonzo and Hart, who would it be? Kuzma: B.I. He’s more of a Hype Beast. He’s wearing all the labels … Louis Vuitton, Givenchy … You know what he’s wearing because you can see on his shirt. Nah, he puts it all together well, he can really dress. I like B.I.’s drip, for sure.

MT: For people that aren’t currently updated – and I wouldn’t consider myself fully updated – drip is essentially just a different way of saying swag? Kuzma: It’s swag, but there’s a difference … you can’t just be drip because you’re swag. Some people are fresh, and some people have drip. Fresh is just like, basic jeans, a nice lil’ shirt, a bag, whatever. But drip is, you’re wearing something different that people don’t really usually wear. Something that is out there. To me, that’s what drip is.

MT: I’m considering you an authority on this matter, that’s why I asked you. Could you give us a couple examples from guys on the team? Kuz: Like, Zo and J-Hart … fresh. ‘Bron has some drip. He doesn’t wear jeans. He’ll put the trousers on with some nice socks. Suede little jacket, stuff like that. B.I. has some drip. Of course me. I din’t want to put myself in there, but... (and) Beasley’s got a little bit of drip because he’s just totally different.

MT: Is it generally more expensive to have drip? Kuz: No. Not at all. You can wear (whatever brands) and be swaggy*. *Lonzo Ball disagrees with that statement. Stay tuned.

BRANDON INGRAM

MT: So, Kuzma gave you the Drip King title amongst your fellow young teammates. Can you clarify the difference between drip and swag? Ingram: Drip is like all designer (gear). But really, it came from where all the rappers wear jewelry. You see the Migos have on eight or nine chains. They might a watch on each wrist. Bracelets. But I think that’s where it originated from.

MT: Now I have to say, rappers have been wearing jewelry for a long time… Ingram: Yeah but just the new age rappers.

MT: OK, so doesn’t it literally mean that the ice from all the diamonds is dripping? Ingram: Yeah, that’s kind of what it is. It’s in all kinds of different songs where they’re talking about ice, dripping, terminology like that. But I think swag is when you can wear anything and get away with it. So I feel like I got both. It doesn’t have to be a name brand at all. I can wear a regular jogging suit, and it looks nice with a nice pair of shoes that might stand out.

MT: Can you make a plain t-shirt drip? Does it have to be Gucci? Ingram: Depends on how you wear it. Everybody can’t have on a Gucci t-shirt, and then the whole ‘fit don’t match.

MT: And Kuz mentioned that you wear a lot of designer gear, but correct me if I’m wrong, it doesn’t have to be from a designer to drip? Ingram: Nah it doesn’t have to be designer. It just has to look good, stand out a little bit, not too much. Don’t overdue it. You might throw some jewelry on.

MT: Do you think Kuz has the most drip on the team? Ingram: No!! He said that?

MT: Well, he just included himself on the list with you, LeBron and Beasley, to be fair. Ingram: Nah! That’s me! Most swag and most drip.

MT: Look I’m not here to judge … anyways, Kuz also said Lonzo and Hart are fresh, but they don’t have as much drip. Thoughts? Ingram: I agree with that. I’ve seen some Lonzo fits that look really good, and I’ve seen some where he can go back home and try again.

LONZO BALL

MT: Your teammates have weighed in on swag and drip, but I felt we needed to get your take. Ball: To me, it goes hand in hand. Drip can be referred to as clothes or jewelry, swag is how you wear your clothes or jewelry.

MT: Wow, you really summarized that very clearly! Ball: (laughs) I’m much smarter than those two!

MT: I mentioned to Ingram that I thought drip derived from hip hop, with rappers talking about their diamonds/jewelry literally dripping… yes? Ball: That’s true, that’s drip. That’s what I’m saying. It evolves from jewelry.

MT: What are some examples of an outfit that drips? Ball: You gotta wear a lot of chains. Stuff that’s blinging. Fancy shoes. Dripped out. It’s simple.

MT: Does it matter if it’s a designer brand or not? Ingram said it doesn’t have to be. Ball: Definitely has to be designer. I don’t know anything that’s not designer that’s drip. It costs. B.I. is probably the head there … all his ‘fits cost a lot of money.

MT: Kuz referred to Ingram as a “Hype Beast.” Can you define that for us? Ball: A hype beast is someone who only wears designer, pretty much. And I like B.I.’s fashion.

MT: How many guys on the team have drip? Ball: Lance (Stephenson) is in the drip category, he comes in pretty iced out. B.I., obviously. Kuz is more on the swag side – he doesn’t really wear too much jewelry. LeBron is, well, he can do either way. I’ll say (Rajon) Rondo is clean swag.

MT: Kuz also drew a distinction with “fresh,” and said that applied to you. Ball: Yeah you know, I try to wear my (Big Baller) Brand here and there. I try to wear designer a couple times. Mix it up a little bit.

MT: Look, I’m just trying to make sure my shoes match my shirt. That’s important, I feel. Ball: Yeah, sure, sure. You gotta match. Sometimes Kuz doesn’t match, though, but that’s OK because he’s out there.

MT: OK ‘Zo, thank you for the education. Ball: Yup, that’s pretty much the whole fashion world from my sense.

EDITOR’S NOTE: After speaking with the three young guys, we also checked Urban Dictionary, which defines drip as: “When your bling is iced out but that (stuff) melting from all your hot bars, you got the drip … just another word for immense swag.”

Source: https://www.nba.com/lakers/news/181115-drip-kings

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counter-productive-reptile-blog · 8 years ago

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Ok, so for those of you folks that have no clue whatsoever as to what I'm talking about, Dinosaur King is this anime-ish kids show made in like the early 2000′s. I binge-watched the shit out of it when I was a Smol before it got deleted off On Demand (I cried). Just yesterday I found it on Netflix and I wasn't like dUDE. THAT’S MY FUCKING SHIT RIGHT THERE MY MAN. So of course I had to rewatch the first episode. Big old rant under the cut.

EDIT: i fucking found this in my drafts and I’m crying please dear god don’t read it i need to be stopped

i never even finished it and i still need to be stopped please

someone tell me to delete this p l e a s e

- so, I turn on the episode right and the the theme song starts up right and I'm like crying happy tears because it's my fucking childhood right here, and then I see the 3D Dino models and it's just a “good feelings gone” moment.

-a few things need to be said about those 3D models. When's I was a Smol I thought they were the greatest fuckin thing ever, I thought their walk cycles were spot on and because I was such a nerd (and I still am) I would study fossils RIGHT and when I saw the jaws of the dinosaurs on the show I was like WOAH. Why? Because the teeth!were in the right place! Take Chomp the triceratops as an example, whenever he opened his mouth at the right angle you could see that the teeth weren't in the front of the mouth, they were near the back just like in the fossils. And so many other little details that I found to be spot on in the models distracted me from the fact that the models look god awful in front of the anime background, like HOLY SHIT. Someone's get that ugly overly detailed nonfeathered monstrosity out of my anime!! And now looking back on it with more experienced eyes, their run cycles weren't even that good.

-anyway, back to the theme song. The theme song is so long. So. Long. It starts off in a major key, with a male singer and some sorta not acoustic guitar in the background and you’re like “ok so it's a bit cheesy and the lyrics are repetitive but this isn't so bad”. But wait, there's more. Then, it goes through a key change. It honestly had me squirming in my seat a bit, cuz it's honestly out of place. You're thinking the theme song isn't gonna be over now because of the key changes BUT WAIT- THERE’S MORE. There's a McFucking rap. A RAP. And it SUCKS. But, enough about the song, lets talk about the footage behind the song. It spoils. Everything. It spoils the opposing team’s dinosaurs, the main character dude’s dad, the main three’s dinosaurs, and the stone plate thingy with all the dino stones in it. Like DUDE. WHY???

Alright, you've survived the theme song. Good for you. Now it's onto the first episode itself.

-it opens EXACTLY like Pokémon does, and I mean like the Kanto region series, with the main character dude getting out of bed. I'm not going to go into depth on Pokemon YET, I have plenty to say about it later. So, the main character dude wakes up thinking about the KT Extinction. Y’know, the one at the end of the Cretacious time period that probably had somethin to do with a meteor. Well, this uneducated asshole was like “ASTEROID- WOAH-” and fell out of bed. (Honestly I can relate to that like just waking up and being like DINOSAURS- SHIT- and rolling down the stairs) so, him falling out of bed gives him the perfect angle to look out his window and see something fall out of the sky and crash into the forest. The animation of this thing falling is so over dramatized like the thing went in fucking loops like- you could have just had it fallen in a realistic ark?? Why waste your budget on unneccisary animation that looks like shit???

-so obviously this kid has to go wake up his two friends so they can find whatever fell into the forest. Let's get a quickness analysis on the main character dude and his buddies shall we?

MAIN CHARACTER DUDE

Name: Max

Appearance: short kid with some weird-ass hair

Noteable clothing features: visor with triceratops horns (I'm jealous)

If I were to label this guy as if he were a character from Pokemon- he's Ash.

FRIEND #1

Name: Rex (wow creative because it's a show about dinosaurs)

Appearance- taller kid with the more angular anime face than just the giant nose cheek thing

Noteable clothing features: I can't remember (maybe I'll update this later)

If I were to label this guy as if he were a character from pokemon- he's your rival. He seem s to be stronger and smarter with his shit than you are but in reality he has a weak bond with his dino and your strong emotional bond makes u win against him every time. In this show I don't think they ever fight each other, but if they did that's what would happen fo sure.

FRIEND #2

Name: Zoe (pronounced Zo-ee)

Appearance: height in the middle of the boiz, she's basically the skinny white girl

Noteable clothing features: I forget this too, maybe I'll update it later.

If I were to label her as a character from Pokemon- she’s Misty

-ok, so we got Max and his buddies here and they're all heading into the forest early in the morning. Rex and Zoe are complaining because they haven't had breakfast and Max is all like “but c’mon guys were the D-Team (a horrible name for many reasons) D for DANGER” and he sayS this like five times and shows the other two this badge thing that we can guess is their team badge like dude,,,we get it.

#I NEED YOU TO TELL ME TO DELETE IT OR I WONT GHJFFGHFJFHGFJK

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shardclan · 8 years ago

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Techne's presence made Arcanus uneasy.

He didn't believe she was going to harm Telos, and yet the feeling the room was thick and restrained and somehow hostile. He could not have known that it was merely the grinding of two opposing power structures trying to reach equilibrium.

Telos the Morning Queen was the highest authority in clan Aphaster, and Techne had no desire to spite the crown or be rude to her host. However, Telos of House Xanna was beneath Techne. Not by much, but enough that Techne felt uneasy at the reversal of roles.

The same could be said for Telos, though from a different angle. Diplomacy was familiar to her by now, and Techne was equivalent to a noble from an ally clan by every measure that mattered. But there was a personal edge to this meeting that left her sitting rigid. At the end of the day, she would still be queen, but Techne had the power to decide her fate as a Xannite.

Zo came to join them, and some of the tension dispelled. He was beholden to both of them in equal measure.

"Glad you could join us, Prince Zo," said Techne.

Both mother and son shook their heads. "Not a prince. His father's blood bars him from ruling authority."

"And even if not," added Zo, with a bow to Techne. "I was born to and for House Xanna."

“I see.” Techne nodded approvingly. "May the knowledge you gather be great."

Telos rolled up a scroll and sat it aside. "Now that we are all here: Let us do things in an order that allows this to go on without further awkwardness. Any words you have for me as Queen, speak them now."

"Well... I offer you congratulations on your coronation and my gratitude for allowing us to stay among your people at this troubled time."

"You will be doing a valuable service. My clan will be pleased if you manage to bring yet another component of their current unhappiness to judgement. That said..." She retrieved a different scroll, unraveling just enough to read the top. "I've been getting requests to do something about a strange 'thing' seen sitting on the hills. Wearing a cloak and a terrifying feathered mask and rattling its entire body at anyone who comes too close." She glanced up at Techne. "Nature dragon?"

"Yes."

"Their name?"

"Abluere."

"My citizens frighten easily, Techne. They're wary and skittish and I don’t know what they’ll do if something they can’t identify just sits out in the open looking menacing."

"The Summerlands don't yield much in the way of places to sit unseen."

"Then I will see to it that Abluere takes some lessons from Bestealcian."

"...Who?"

"Exactly. She's an all black coatl and you've looked in her direction no less than 3 times and clearly not seen her. She will teach Abluere how to be inconspicuous in coverless daylight."

"That is very gracious of you."

The gears shifted in the room as the business involving the queen ended. Telos took her modest circlet from her head and gently placed it to the side. "So... What brings the fresh brood of Pandora to the Promenade?"

"Inquisition," Techne said bluntly, the soft notes of appeasement gone from her voice. She hiked a claw at Arcanus."Excuse your knight."

"I'm his charge."

"You're sure he's not going to say anything to anyone?"

"Nothing the whole clan doesn't already know. You read the Omen Report, I assume?"

"The House has read it. There is evidence that one of our number may have assisted the former scion in producing the body that your exaltee was called back into. And you know the Auditor forbids that manner of knowledge which could produce a soulless husk."

"I do."

"Is the Omen Report the extent of everyone's disclosure on the matter?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Techne shook her head and hummed her agitation. "A whole clan. You let a whole godsdamned clan know about us. In Light territory!"

"We were--"

"In Arcane before, I know. I can't decide which is worse. Arcanites always wanting to tamper and tinker and test the limits, or these brats of the Lightweaver who think secrets are sacrilege and they're so much better than anyone whose god doesn't shit glitter like theirs."

Telos tapped her crown. "Please. I understand your frustration, but our relationship with Lightweaver is new and unsteady and we are only just within Her grace. Mind what you say."

Telos sighed, and dug a cigarillo from her bags. "Understood. But that's exactly what I mean. Xanna was the last dragon born in Light, and the House as founded by Melicertes quickly got the hell out. Light dragons pry, their god pries, it's their nature to want knowledge where anyone can access it. And they’re enormous hypocrites about it if the mystery of the Hewn City is anything to go by. They understand that some secrets shouldn’t be spoken, they just think the only ones worth keeping are their own.”

She breathed deep, cooling her temper. ”We have always avoided them for this reason. Just like we avoided Arcane dragons because they get carried away testing new and dangerous ideas. You remember the last time we had a real Arcanite branch?"

Telos nodded grimly. "The Auditor got involved personally."

"So she did. And now they're all gone. And here we have another situation where an Arcanite clearly did something they shouldn't have, and you fled to Light territory of all places to keep it under wraps."

"That was not a decision made as a Xannite."

"You should have at least made it a consideration as Xannite and picked a borderland."

"My apologies."

"Accepted." Techne blew out a cloud of smoke and started to pace. "Nobody in the House has ever been as far up the ladder as you Telos. You're not really one of us anymore."

"Ah..." Telos said wiltingly. "So I'm being exiled."

"Not what I said, and my personal opinion on the matter is that if anything we should take you home and lock you up there. No, the overarching opinion is that this is a very unusual set of circumstances. You're a queen, Telos. And you seem dedicated to doing the job well. By necessity, it means you're going to put the House second. And yet, a queen in House Xanna's roster might have its perks, so no one is keen to have you ex-communicated."

Telos stared down with eyes like flint. "If the House wants the aid of the Morning Queen, they will have to go through the same channels as any other diplomats."

"That is understood, we do not mean to take advantage." She shrugged. "Or at least, I don't. But point is: As a queen, you probably shouldn't visit Home anymore. You're very high profile, people will ask questions if you wander off."

"I agree. I have already appointed Zo to be my representative on matters relating to House Xanna. He's young and he's my son, but the position of acting emissary will see that he is able to come and go on business without prying. On a similar note..." She produced an emblem, small enough for the coatl to wear. "As Zo is my emissary to the House, for your time here, you will be the emissary from the House. This will allow you too to have the degrees of freedom and authority needed for your inquisition."

Techne rolled the cigarillo in her lips and smiled as she turned the little emblem. It was an engraved symbol of Clan Aphaster with Telos' personal seal on the back. "This is the kind of perk I was hoping for, Queen Telos. Very good then. I will work with Zo. Any gaps in his knowledge I will come to you for."

"I doubt you will need me. Even I had to be told things. Opal was...much smarter than when the House last deal with him."

"Mmm. You say he's dead now?"

"Very."

"You're sure?"

Telos smiled grimly. "His skull is mounted on the staff of the Archmage and his soul is trapped inside. She is not much for friendly chats these days, but I'm sure she'd be pleased to let you spit on him personally."

Techne grinned. "Good to know. And you're clear of water dragons now, right?"

"We have one, but he's tundra stock, and a brawler. No known clairvoyant ability."

"Keep it that way."

"I can't. We can't afford to have no representatives, especially not for our borders. He refuses the job, and frankly my council thinks his strength makes him too valuable elsewhere anyway."

"And you do border on the Sea... Water, Light, and Arcanites, gods it's everything we've tried to keep away from all this time. Try for another non-standard type, yeah? Get a maren hunter with a bunch of scars, not some moon-worshipper who looks into things they shouldn’t every time the tide is high."

Telos bit her cheek to keep a straight face. "We are hoping to build peaceful relations with the maren, but I get your meaning."

"Good.” She snapped expectantly at Zo, signalling for him to come with her. But she paused and turned back. "You have a Lightning candidate?"

"Screening for one. Can't be too careful these days."

"Mind if I make a recommendation?"

Telos tilted her head, and put her circlet back on. "Not from the House, I hope."

"No. Retainer from outside. Ex-newblood. Turned out her mate was the one intending to sell secrets and was going to frame her for it."

"Oh. Oh, that's...quite a case."

"A rare one, yes. We want to let her go since they never even got around to using the Machine, but also keep her somewhere close, you know?"

"You don't think she'd have ill feeling toward a Xannite queen?"

"She's not the type to blame you when you weren’t even there. Especially with all this shit you've had happen to you recently. Smart mind, but she does have a chip on her shoulder about untrustworthiness."

"Sounds like exactly what we need. Thank you, and I wish you luck in your Inquisition."

@your-local-birb

#Clan Aphaster #Flight Rising #C: Telos #c: Techne #House Xanna #new beginnings

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