#don’t ask why they’re naked i didn’t have any other sprites

[liar-night]

on the itaru cuck agenda again. this is my illustrated diagram of the ideal chikaitatsuzu dynamic

[abarbaricyalp]

A classic, there was only one bed!

I'm just now realizing there was no ship name here. My brain just auto-filled SamBucky

I also realized, setting up the document, that I combined the 'only one bed' trope with the 'omg they were roommates' vine in my brain

(Always taking prompts)

Read on AO3

The Grief of Down

“Mr. Wils-- Captain Wil-- Mr. … Captain America,” a frazzled concierge greeted before Sam��s eyes had even adjusted to the light in the hotel lobby.

“Mr. Captain,” Bucky scoffed under his breath at Sam’s side. “That’s a new one.”

Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s ribs.

“There’s been a mistake, Captain,” the concierge said. “We didn’t realize Mr… Sergeant Barnes would be attending with you. We don’t have any more rooms.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said with an easy smile, trying to calm the man down. “He can stay in my room.” He held out his hand and the concierge shook it slowly.

“No, I’m afraid, we didn’t put you in a full suite. It’s just a one-bed room.”

And Sam and Bucky both waited probably too long to respond. Sam was never sure how to approach a subject like that with total strangers. Of all the jarring things he expected from the unfortunate fame of being Captain America, people believing they knew everything about him, when they really didn’t, wasn’t one of those things he could get used to.

“Well, weapons of mass destruction don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Bucky said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Key?”

“Oh my God?” Sam breathed disbelievingly and elbowed his ribs again. “Can you behave?”

The concierge looked like he was about to pass out. “Of course. I’m just so sorry we couldn’t make accommodations. All of the suites were booked by other participants of the conference months ago. I tried to find the best room I could,” he explained absently, too quickly for Sam to try to keep up with. He looked around the foyer as the other man scrambled behind the desk to check him in. Bucky leaned his shoulder against Sam’s back and Sam tracked his eyeline to a table of pastries set out before shrugging him off.

“We literally ate, like, two hours ago,” he said.

“We stopped at a McDonalds and they didn’t even have Sprite. I need a sugar hit.”

“I think that’s biologically impossible for you.”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m a super soldier I can’t want things for myself?” Bucky asked, more facetious than Sam thought could fit into a single voice.

“You’re the worst.”

“Mr. America-- I mean. Mr. Wilson, here’s your keycard and an extra for Mr. Barnes.” The man’s face was so red, Sam started to feel bad for him. “There should be an itinerary of events in your room. If you need anything, call down and let us know. We’re working with the conference organizers and can reach out to them for you as well.”

Bucky reached out for the keys and tapped them on the desk twice before heading to the elevators without waiting to see if Sam was coming or not. Sam shot an apologetic look at the concierge and then followed after Bucky.

“You’re a real asshole, y’know,” he said as the doors opened and they stepped inside the elevator.

“I’m a tired asshole and I���ve been thinking about this bed since you woke me up this morning,” Bucky answered. He dropped his bag by his feet and shook out his arm like the metal could get cramps.

“I don’t know what you’re tired for. I drove most of the way.”

“I’m tired from worrying about you driving.”

Sam snorted. “I’m a much better driver than you.”

“You had to take a break halfway here,” Bucky said. And Sam knew it was bait, but he couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that came from his chest.

“Oh, I had to take a break halfway here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I distinctly remember crossing into Texas, getting through all those pine trees and then you stopping the car on the side of the road.”

Sam backed Bucky into the corner of the elevator. “Is that how you remember it, Barnes?” he asked.

“Why don’t you tell me your version of events, Wilson?” Bucky purred, looking exactly like a cat in the cream as he let Sam crowd him against the wall.

“I remember you begging me to pull over and practically flipping into the backseat. I remember you bein’ half naked before I even got back there. I remember you trying to knock out the window when you wanted us flipped over so you could blow me.”

“I don’t recall any of that,” Bucky said saccharinely, hands going to Sam’s hips to pull him closer. “Remind me again what, exactly, we did.”

Sam rolled his eyes, let his lips graze Bucky’s cheekbone and then stepped back in time for the elevator to ding on their floor. “Maybe later, Barnes,” he teased and grabbed Bucky’s bag before walking out the door. He shot an easy grin at a woman in the hallway, gave a kid a high five, apologized to both for Bucky sulking up behind him.

“Sometimes I hate how good you are at this,” Bucky grumbled behind him as Sam took the keycard from him. He rested his cheek on the back of Sam’s shoulder while Sam fought with the door. It took three tries before it finally swung open, which was enough time for Bucky to have closed his eyes and already started daydreaming. He was not pleased when Sam stepped away, but it was quickly remedied by the sight of the bathroom. He stepped inside, looking at the sleek, granite countertops, the deep sink, the wide showerhead over a huge bathtub.

“I think we could both fit in this tub together, Sammy,” he called.

The thought sent a thrill through Sam’s traitorous body. As much as he wanted to focus on being Captain America and the speech he had to give, more than any of that, he wanted to curl up in the big bed in the middle of the room and let Bucky get back to what they’d been doing four hours ago. He wanted to relax in a giant bathtub while Bucky drew nonsense patterns in the soap on his back. He wanted to check into a hotel and not have to explain that it was no issue that he and Bucky would share a room or even a bed.

Although, one time, it had ended with them pushing two queen sized beds together and then checking out very, very late.

“I can’t imagine what the suites in this place look like if this is just a one-bed room,” Bucky said, appearing in the bedroom portion of the room.

“Probably just means they have a kitchen and couch,” Sam said. He held out his arm and Bucky grinned, took his hand and let Sam pull him close.

“You got any nerves you need me to work out of you?” Bucky asked, dragging his hands down Sam’s back until he got to his waistband and could start to pull his shirt free.

“A speech is a speech,” Sam said. “More worried about babysitting you in public,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the nuisance,” Bucky agreed and finished pulling Sam’s shirt off before making quick work of his own. “But I’m a hot one, so…”

Sam laughed and pushed Bucky back onto a bed that had more than enough room to share. “I think you were trying to recreate our escapades from the road,” he said, climbing over Bucky’s hips until he could press his body along Bucky’s, mouth finding Bucky’s neck, his collarbones, his shoulder.

Just for now, he could be a man in a nice hotel room with his partner and nothing else.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, loud enough from the bed that Sam heard him over the shower and sink running. He leaned out the bathroom door, one hand curled around the towel at his waist, the other holding a toothbrush in his mouth.

“Whmm?” he asked.

Bucky, still delightfully, distractedly, naked and tangled in the sheets, held up his tablet. “We’re the front page of every celebrity gossip tabloid this morning.”

Sam’s stomach turned over but then Bucky shifted and exposed more of his thigh and the worries flew out of Sam’s mind. He turned and spit toothpaste into the sink. “What for?”

“Captain America and sidekick Bucky Barnes were seen checking into a conference hotel late yesterday afternoon. Sources at the hotel say that while they split a room, there was only one bed,” Bucky read.

“Oh my God,” Sam replied blandly. “There was only one bed.”

Bucky snorted and then continued. “Speculation has run amuck in recent months about the relationship between Wilson and Barnes, especially when they’re between saving the world and chose to lay low along the Gulf Coast. Together.”

“It’s not our fault that no one can put two and two together. You think AJ and Cass are ever not talking about their uncles?” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, but no one’s taking the word of a ten year old as gospel. Or asking him in the first place.”

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. He finished rinsing out his mouth and came back to the bed, curling around Bucky’s side and kissing his jaw. “Come on. We can think about saying something later. Right now, why don’t you come get in the shower with me?” he suggested, running his hand down Bucky’s chest and kissing his shoulder.

“Or,” Bucky said and smoothed his hand over the bedspread. “You could stay here with me. Make the most use outta something that’s causing us a whole lotta grief,” he countered. And wasn’t that a tempting idea. “Come on, it’s not like we’re payin’ for the water. The shower’ll be there when we’re done.”

Bucky pulled Sam down into that big bed and Sam couldn’t be happier to be sharing it right then.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #28)

(cw: drugs/addiction) ----------

01/14/88   2:45 PM Hey.

Even if I didn’t let myself believe I had an addiction, I could not deny my blatant downward spiral. 

My second hit of GC really woke me up in that regard, I think. I felt completely justified while immersed in my hallucinations, but realizing what I’d really been doing all that time was humiliating and, honestly, a bit scary. If I’d taken that hit during gameplay hours, I’d have gotten my game unplugged. I’ve never exactly been a gentle sweetheart, but I’d like to think I’m not a violent maniac. I just wasn’t myself. I can’t afford to lose track of myself.

So I tried to pull myself out of that nosedive. Put a stop to the downward spiral and reclaim control of myself. Wanting to quit was a step. Promising myself that I’d quit was a step. But they weren’t exactly headed in the right direction. Thing is, I was so deep into the dark, I didn’t know which way led out anymore. I’m sure I thought I was walking out, but I was just venturing deeper. Very efficiently. Led by the light of three little words:

Just one more.

I needed that last hit and I was going to get it. With no credits to speak of, and a decent sum of the arcade afraid of me, the method seemed clear: Intimidation.

It was risky. If the Surge Protector caught wind of it, I’d be in a heap of trouble. But he’d been off his game for a while, for reasons I didn’t know at the time. I’d be able to duck him easily -- the real threat was my, I dunno, victim blabbing about me. Anyone else’s word was better than mine to him. 

I’d have no luck trying to intimidate a dealer; they’re too experienced, certainly deal with threats a lot, and are familiar enough with how the SP works to screw me over and still get away unscathed. No, there was another opportunity I had to take advantage of. All the frightened sprites, never taken a buff before, turning straight to GC to chase the bad things away. Newbies. 

I’m not proud of what I did. Honestly? I’d even say I’m ashamed. Like I said before, I don’t really care about appearing kind, but I never really want to be cruel. Sometimes, my will to survive just trumps that. If I need it, I’ll get it. And I needed GC. I didn’t want to believe it, but I did.

So, what did I do? I waited in Jungle Hunt, a little ways off from where my usual dealer meets her customers, scanning for any sign of movement. I ran through in my head what to do if things went south. I brought a real knife with me just in case, but I was very weak from impending withdrawal and buff use. I’d lose a fight if it came to that. I’d just have to really sell my scary vibe and hope for the best.

Finally, after Devs know how long of perching in a tree trying to think through my pounding headache, I saw someone pushing through the undergrowth. I put your charred goggles over my eyes, pulled your scarf up over my nose, and dropped down.

They screamed so loud when they saw me in their path, I heard birds call and fly off in the distance. 

“Hand it over,” I said.

I don’t remember what their voice sounded like, but they stammered, “Wh-What?”

I pulled my face gear down to try to see them properly, but… didn’t succeed. Through split second frames of static, I could see that their pixels were blurred out from head to toe, no matter how hard I blinked. I could at least tell that they were bigger than me, but that doesn’t exactly narrow things down. Most sprites are. All I could decipher was the lovely yellow ‘?’ block wherein my prize was held, and that was all that mattered.

“Hand it over,” I insisted.

They stepped back. “The… The block?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, your heart. Yes, dumbass, now give it here before I take it.”

“Well…” they stood a little straighter. “W-Why should I?”

Good on them for trying.

“Because GC is a dangerous and highly addictive buff known to cause corruption in overdose. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Bullroar,” they said, “don’t pretend you care about me. I know you want it for yourself.”

“No crit.”

“Well, you can’t--” their voice cracked, “can’t have it. I paid good credits for this, so… so you can go ahead and do the same. I’m not scared of you.”

I laughed. “Sure you are. You’re scared of Turbo, ain’t ya?”

They flinched. “What? N-no I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You’re terrified of what he did. And that horrible, haunting, homicidal demon? Maybe you haven’t heard, but he and I--” I crossed my fingers, “-- were pretty close. We shared everything. I’ve heard sprites say we shared two halves of the same code. You know the one difference we have that’s keeping me from doing what he did?”

They had completely backed up against a tree. Even through the fog, I could see them shaking. They seemed too petrified to answer.

I leaned a little closer, “Motive. He found his reason. I’m still waiting for mine. So, you can give me that GC…” I flipped out the knife and pointed it where I assume their face was, “...or you can give me a reason.”

That hit the mark.

“Okay, okay, just take it!” They quite nearly threw it at me. Once it was in my hands, they tried to make a break for it, but I overtook them easily and cut them off.

“Ah, ah! We’re not done here,” I said. “One last thing. Keep your mouth shut, and we’ll never have to speak to each other again. If you so much as breathe a word about this to the Surge Protector, I’ll know. You can if you want, but before you do, just ask yourself how much you value your game. Yeah?”

“Y-yes--”

“Speak up.”

“Yes ma’am!”

I snorted. “Weirdo. Alright, get outta here. Thanks for the GC.”

I went back to my game to take it, still taking that monumental risk. My fear of corruption was still not real enough to spur any caution in that regard. A lot of me was still pretty freaked out over being out in public for too long, let alone being in public and high off my ass. I thought of all the sprites I’d seen before I was attacked, the unwitting GC addicts lying completely vulnerable on the port station couches. I thought of how easy it would have been for me to do whatever the hell I wanted with them, if I weren’t a better sprite. I couldn’t put myself in that position. The risk of violence felt so much more real than the risk of some enigmatic fate that could only belong in nightmares. Nightmares aren’t real. Murderers are. 

So, I got back to my den. I took some deep breaths, and tried desperately to find something close to a good state of mind. This hit had to be better than the one that landed me in Fix-it’s apartment. It would be my very last, so it just had to count. 

I took it.

Y’know how sometimes you fall asleep and it feels like the entire night lasted only a blink?

I blinked, and I was staring at my reflection. It took me a minute to even realize anything happened. I was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the river, hunched over like a vulture, staring at my own bright-blue-eyed face. My eyes were dry and shot, as if I hadn’t been blinking. I tried to move, but my legs had gone completely numb beneath me. That’s also when I realized I was, for some reason, completely naked.

I could also already feel my high beginning to taper down. I’d lost the entirety of my trip. That fact felt like a rock in my gut.

I don’t think it was so much the fact that I missed the high itself that bothered me. Yeah, I was disappointed. I’d gone through all the trouble of threatening some poor slob to get that high, and I didn’t even get to experience it. But more than that, I started to feel disgusted with myself for risking so much for something that wasn’t even worth it.

I was even more pissed at myself for how badly I wanted more.

Feeling like complete garbage, I painfully unfolded myself and lowered onto my back in the mud. I stretched out my stiff legs until my heels felt flowing water.

That’s when things, as ever, got weird. Really freakin’ weird.

I heard a voice mutter my name. It was cold and distorted, so much that I almost thought I had imagined it (which I technically did, I suppose). A quick glance around offered no insight. I heard it again, and realized I was piecing together words in the babbling of the river at my feet. That was enough for me to brush it off completely as harmless tricks of the ear and lie back down. Until it formed a full sentence.

It asked, “Are you gonna ignore me forever, or what?”

Okay.

I replied with my own question. “Ballpark, how high am I right now?”

“For any buff other than GC, you’d be in the high-as-balls ballpark,” it told me, “but as it stands, you’re almost done here.”

“Great,” I sighed. “That’s what I figured.”

The voice scoffed. “Well, no need to pout about it.”

“I’m not pouting. Maybe I’m a little pissed that this last high crapped out on me so hard.”

“So what? Just take another one.”

I paused, and I stared up at the stars silently for a minute. I suddenly felt so profoundly exhausted. Rubbing my eye, I said, “Yeah, I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever subconscious BS this is. I’m not gonna sit here arguing with my inner demons or some stupid crap. If you wanna be a sentient river and splash around my feet, knock yourself out. Just don’t talk to me.” 

“Well, you’re in a mood,” it might have rolled its eyes if it had any.

“That’s talking. Zip it.”

“You really want to lay your grouchy ass down and waste the rest of your high?”

“What the hell else am I gonna do? Other than make small talk with-- with whatever the hell you are.”

I heard a smile in its voice. “I’m just your voice of reason.”

I frowned. “Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re the exact opposite of that.”

“Okay,” it said in a challenging tone, “Say something smart, then, if you’re so reasonable.”

I didn’t answer right away. I took a moment to realize that I’d been thinking more clearly than I’d been able to for a long time. Not crystal clear, not enlightenment -- I think I was just more or less able to let some things sink in. The loudest and most important of these things was,

“This is over.”

It paused, as much as a river can pause. “Come again?”

“I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. This was my last hit.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if I take so much as one more, I’ll freakin’ corrupt, that’s why.”

It scoffed. “If that’s what you’re afraid of, take it outside your game.”

“I don’t wanna die either, dickweed.”

“You won’t!”

“Yeah, I almost definitely will!”

“No, you won’t,” it hissed firmly. “Something like this can’t kill you. Not after everything you’ve survived. If you were anyone else, you’d have died a long time ago, but you’re not. You’re Make-it freakin’ Mavis. You survive.”

It was right. It was so right, in ways it didn’t intend to be. Shame squirmed around in my belly -- the very same self-disgust that made me grateful you couldn’t see me. But this time, it was too much. This time, the weight of it shifted something inside me.

“You’re right,” I said.

“Yeah, see?”

“You’re right,” I nodded, “I’m Make-it freakin’ Mavis, and I can’t let this kill me.”

“...What?”

Acid boiled in my chest. I was scolding myself, and it did not feel good. I didn’t want to think about the things I’d done, but I chose to rub my own nose in it. “What the hell have I been doing? Why am I slowly killing myself like this? This is pathetic. This is cowardly. This is running away with my tail between my legs. Make-it Mavis doesn’t run away. Pathetic cowards do.”

“Interesting take,” it said slowly. “So what are you gonna do now?”

“Not more GC, that’s for sure.”

“I see. So you wanna stop running away from your problems, and instead…let yourself get crushed by them. You survive, girl. Sometimes that means fleeing when you know you don’t stand a chance.”

“I do stand a chance,” I grit my teeth, “so long as I’m still breathing.”

“Okay,” it sounded distinctly unimpressed, “so what’s your game plan? Just how do you plan on fighting the pain? You think you’re ready for that?”

“I…” I sighed and rolled onto my side in the cold mud. “I’m not. But I don’t want to die.”

“Well, that’s admirable. Most sprites in your position probably would -- I mean, c’mon, let’s see…”

“Don’t.”

“Your life as you knew it is decimated. You lost both your jobs, you lost your favorite pastimes, you lost your place in society, you lost your coded gift of creation that literally defines you. You’ve only got three allies in this -- one of which you’ve already pissed off enough to lose, another of which you lied to so you could do this, and another of which you literally do not know how to be nice to. Wreck-it hates you now, and Tapper and Fix-it won’t be far behind. You know why? They’ve got a lick of sense in their heads, which is more than can be said for your best friend, who, by the way, is dead.”

I didn’t respond. I just pulled my knees to my chest and listened to the river flow by. Nothing it said hit too hard. I heard that very same script in my head every time I was sober. Hearing it out loud from this imaginary being just sort of felt like my problems were being propped up in front of me, so I could see just how tiny I am in comparison. So I could see that it was a losing fight.

“You got nothing now, Mavis. You’re more alone than you’ve ever been,” the river said casually. “Power to you for not wanting to give up, but who’s left that’s worth the trouble of playing it safe?”

I took a moment. I was not about to lose this fight.

“Me.”

It paused, and then sputtered a short, watery laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Me, damn it,” I snapped, sitting up to stare at the plain riverbank. “You think I’ve got nothing now? Glitch, I had nothing when I was plugged in. But you know what? I made it. I made stuff to live for. Anything that’s ever made me happy, I got to experience because I was there for me. I’m not going to risk throwing away all that survival just so I can get high for a few hours. That’s stupid, that’s pathetic, and that’s beneath me. I owe my own safety to myself.”

It gave a weird, bubbly snort. “Just yourself, huh? That’s pretty pathetic. Pretty telling of the miserable life you lead. No one’s there for you, so you gotta be your own best friend, is that right?”

“No. No, my real--” my breath caught for a second, and I had to stop to breathe, “-- my real best friend would have been here for me, too. And I… I owe it to him to stop running away.”

At that, it outright cackled in a way that made my skin feel tight. “You say that like he wouldn’t be running right alongside you!”

“He wouldn’t. He’d see how stupid this is.”

“Nah, you’d rope him into it. You’re an expert enabler, don’t you remember? Whose hand-made buffs won the title of ‘Turbo’s First Addiction?’”

I felt sick. “That was a long time ago. Neither of us knew any better.”

“If he were here, you’d take GC together, and you’d both get hooked, and he’d corrupt. And it’d be your fault.”

“You wanna act like you know him better than I do?”

“Did.”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “I know what he would do. Like Tapper said… about if he saw me like this. He’d see that it’s ridiculous. He’d see that I’m better than this, and he wouldn’t sit back quietly about it. He’d tell me. He’d tell me right to my face, with no sugar coating. And he’d be right to do it.”

“I think you’re hoping that he saw you as better than you actually are.”

“I’m not, actually. Fix-it does that. T didn’t. He actually--” I had to breathe again, feeling myself beginning to shake. “He saw--... He saw me exactly as I was. He knew I’m a bit of a-- y’know, a goblin most of the time. But I-- I think that’s… just the way he liked me. He knew everything I wasn’t. But it just seemed like he was only interested in everything I was.”

The river did not speak, but I could swear the water ran colder on my toes. It seemed to be waiting impatiently for me to finish.

I closed my eyes and spoke mostly to myself. “I owe it to him to stay everything that I am.”

“Why?!” The river suddenly snapped, and it rushed by faster than before. “That lying son of a glitch doesn’t deserve it! He’s the one who got you into this mess in the first place! He ruined your life! He LEFT you! He broke his freakin’--”

Splash. 

I kicked my heel hard into the water. It was hardly enough to upset an entire river, but I’d had enough of this stupid hallucination. At first, it seemed to work. But I heard words between the babbles again before too long.

“Yeah,” it said, almost breathlessly, “yeah, it hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Shut the hell up,” I grumbled, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Me? You’re the one who screwed up. You let him get into your head. And the pain will never go away. Not ‘til the day you’re deleted, and even then, who knows?”

“He didn’t get in my head,” I lied poorly.

“Ha, ha, ha,” it laughed humorlessly. “No, no, I see. We’re way beyond brains now, aren’t we? He didn’t just get into your head, he shot straight freakin’ through it and took a chunk with him -- the chunk that’s sensible enough to know not to let him get into your heart.”

I dug my nails into my leg. “Stop it.”

“So he got in. He laid his roots, and he laid them deep. Must’ve really hurt like a glitch when he yanked them all out, huh?”

Despite myself, I felt my eyes start to sting, if only over how badly I wanted to wring the nonexistent throat of the river. “You’re not gonna make me take more GC,” I warned it. “So just give up.”

“I can’t make you do anything,” it said. “But you haven’t got much time left in this high. After this, you’re really on your own, until… who knows, maybe forever. But I’m still willing to help you, if you’ll just let me.”

I muttered, “I don’t need your help.”

“Who else is gonna help you?”

“I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP!”

I lunged forward so that my hands sank hard into the muddy riverbank, and my pounding heart skipped two beats the moment I saw my reflection form on the rippling water.

It was, once more, the face I had seen reflected on my broken paint can -- bloodied, misshapen, hated, and alone.

I screamed and swiped at the water’s surface, as if I could claw the image out of it and tear it to pieces, but thankfully, I didn’t have to. Once the water settled into its course again, all I saw looking back at me was me. Naked, muddy, bright-blue eyed, but me all the same.

And the river did not speak again.

I was overwhelmed for so many reasons. One was from living through the very stressful past few minutes, another was for finally letting go of my escape I’d been so in love with before, and another was from pure relief that I came out on top of that fight. I wasn’t sure I was going to. It all just welled up in me and spilled over in tears. I was so disgusted by how much I’d been crying lately, but I couldn’t help it. I just sat in the shallow water and let it out. 

After a while, I decided to get cleaned up so I could go get warm. I was freakin’ freezing, and the albeit quick bath I took in the river offered no help. I wasn’t even sure where my clothes were, but once I stepped out of the water, I didn’t even get to start looking for them.

I lost time. A big chunk of it. 

A shock of pain and a blue flash later, I found myself crossing Grand Central Station, fully clothed, but cold and damp, as if I’d put my clothes on without drying off. I was pointed straight for Pac-Man’s.

I’d made the decision to quit GC. My addiction had other plans.

Dread welled up in me. I’d come out hunting for another hit, completely puppeted by my subconscious. I was just strolling right out as if on a daily errand. I tried turning back many times, only to lose time and regain consciousness much closer to the game. Again and again. I was so vulnerable, just right out in the open. Anyone could have stopped me, arrested me, or attacked me. But no one did. At the time, I was too concerned with the fact that my body was dragging me to my potential death against my will to notice. But now I can see just how haunting it is that I avoided any sort of attention. I was locked into a death march, and it seemed like the whole arcade was just standing aside, clearing a path for me.

I lost time like hiccups. I made it into the Pac-Man port. I rode the train. I stepped into the maze. It took me seconds to appear in what I’d later recognize as a far corner, staring down a Game-Changer. It floated there so simply, so unassumingly. So invitingly.

I hated myself so wholeheartedly in that moment. After everything I thought I’d just defeated, I was back at it. And I couldn’t stop myself. Once I saw it, I couldn’t even try to turn back. It was like a gamer had taken control of my sprite.

I strode forward and let it burst against my pixels.

Unlike the first time I took GC, this time didn’t hurt. At all. I felt it breathe into me, and just like that, I felt lighter. So light, I wasn’t too familiar with gravity anymore. My head swam, and I stumbled forward against the wall and slid to the floor. I took weak, shallow breaths, and I knew I should have been afraid. Maybe part of me was. 

But once I couldn’t turn back anymore, most of me was just relieved to be getting away one last time. It wasn’t long before that lightness floated me away. 

My eyelids grew heavy. I didn’t try to fight it at all. I just let my eyes fall shut and my neck go limp, which, honestly, felt so good to do. It was as if I’d just really fallen asleep for the first time in over a month. Which, as far as I could perceive, I did.

I woke up to a growing sting in my eyes, like mornings where you’d open the blackout shutters to let the blinding sunlight scorch me awake. There were no shutters, this time. But, as it turned out, it was the same sunlight.

I cracked my eyes open against the brightness, and when I did… I saw your game. Completely intact. I was looking at the trees at the edge of your little trailer park, and they were dry as ever. There was just as much junk and litter strewn about in the dirt as I remembered. Even the Twins’ trailers were right where they ought to have been, a stone’s throw down to the left of me. Which had to mean yours was sitting right behind me.

I’m not sure how to describe how I felt right there. I was confused, for sure, but I was also confused as to why I was confused. I felt sort of like… when you walk into a room, and you forget why you came into it at all, but you know it was for a reason.

I pushed to my feet and found them wobbly. I turned to look at your trailer door, and I paused. Something about it sort of made my stomach ache. I wanted to go in, I’d even say I felt compelled to. But I also really didn’t want to see you. For reasons I couldn’t remember, I was pissed. I was drunk. And I was also… scared. Somehow.

Then, a whisper of awareness came into my head before disappearing again, as quickly as it came. I’d done this before. This was no ordinary buff trip. It was a memory.

Up until that point, I’d thought I didn’t remember the last time we’d spoken before the incident.

Apparently, I did.

[inspirationdivine]

If You Go Down to The Woods Tonight || Lydia and Luce

Luce finds Lydia dancing naked in the woods. What could go wrong?

Lydia was deep and far into the woods, far enough that no one would stumble upon her, (or so Lydia assumed) so when she shed her clothes, she shed her glamour too. Her hand glowed against the tree bark she leant against to slide off her skirt. The pixies chittered as her wings extended from her back, and she slid into a very rare spring fairy ring. It was already withering, not made for this climate, but it would be good for one night. No other species would understand the pulsating magic of tinkling bells that filled her body as the pixies surrounded her. It was a music no one else could hear. Even as the rain came down, they danced. The pixies sang, buzzing past her ears, her wings, as she hovered over the damp forest floor. Here, there was no judgement, no manipulation, no dishonesty. Even glamours were a lie in their own way. Her hips rolled the the beat of the tingles in her spine.  Until she paused, looked around. They were no longer alone. “You might as well reveal yourself, whoever you are.”

Hiking further into the woods, Luce rested her hand on the sword on her hip. After her run in with Donuts the Actually Not So Bad Cop during the last storm, she wanted to find a place more off the beaten path for her future mass fires. But, after the fext and whatever that slimy bastard attacked her and Remmy, she wasn’t just running out here without a little extra protection. The things she did to fucking improve herself. All because she didn’t want her sisters to figure out what she was doing. They had their own secrets-- that much was clear, after the troubling encounter she and Nellie had with August-- and she was sure they wouldn’t begrudge her one of her own. As she hiked, rain began to trickle from the sky. Glancing up, she was startled when she realized that there was movement through the trees. Not just rain, but… Huh. Crouching slightly, she moved closer to the scene and was startled to see a completely naked woman floating in the middle of the forest, surrounded by sprites. But, more startling than that were the wings coming out of her back. As the woman addressed her, Luce’s held her hands up in an apologetic gesture. That said, she didn’t avert her gaze as she stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to gatecrash. My b.” She said with an easy smile.

It was close enough to the full moon that it could still be a wolfling, Lydia thought as the woman emerged from the trees. She was beautiful, even the pixies stilled to look at her. The music still rang in her body, the perfect concordance of mushrooms. But her eyes drifted from that pretty smile to lower on her body, and Lydia’s heart froze in place. Not a werewolf. Werewolves had teeth and claws enough to not need the shining knuckle dusters on her hands, nor the sword on her hip. Hunter. Lydia’s heart hammered as she hovered backwards, reaching behind her for her purse. In it lay a brass pistol, which she picked up and held against her glowing thigh. “Didn’t you?” She repeated skeptically, her voice an octave higher than normal. “You didn’t come equipped like someone who wasn’t here to gatecrash.”

Entranced by the woman’s other-worldly appearance, Luce was barely aware of the fact that she was floating backwards. Or the fact that she was looking at the weapons that she had carried into the woods with her. As the woman began to float backwards, going for the bag on the ground, Luce was startled when she pulled out a pistol and trained it on her. “Whoa! Hold up, I’m not doing anything!” She said, her ironic hands up stance becoming much more of a plea for ‘hey, don’t fucking shoot me’ than she had intended. “You think I make a habit of going into these woods without a little protection? There’s a lot of shit out here that’s more than happy to try and attack both of us. I’m not in the business of making kebabs out of gorgeous flying women.” Luce replied, more than a little bit of impudence apparent in her tone. She’d just come out for a walk, to scope out the area. Not to get a gun pulled on her by what she could only assume was one of the Fae.

“Why should I believe you? Hunters love to lie. It’s probably what they’re best at,” Lydia replied, her arms trembling, but her aim true. “I’m not in the habit of shooting beautiful women, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make an exception.” She eyed her cautiously, her ears prickling. The feeling of being watched hadn’t left with the mimes, as it had for most. If it had been hunters, it would have explained how much it haunted her, and justified the fear. 

Watching the way the woman’s arms seemed to shake, the way her stange ears were twitching, Luce could tell that the stranger was far more afraid of her than she was. Which, given the whole gun situation, said a lot. A Hunter? Is that what she thought she was? But, she was a lot more interested in the beautiful women comment. With a smirk, Luce nodded. “Only because you called me pretty,” She teased, before tossing her silver knuckledusters onto the ground next to her. With a slow hand, Luce locked eyes with the woman, “I’m taking off my belt. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me.” She said before undoing the latch of her belt and tossing it onto the grass as well. “I’m not a Hunter. I figure that would be enough to prove I’m not.”

Lydia wasn’t in the mood to flirt or tease until the weapons were dropped. In the dark, she slowly realised the knuckles glinted silver, not like irons. “Not shooting,” she replied, her voice a little steadier as she watched Luce carefully remove the belt, and watched the sword drop onto the leafy floor. Although, Lydia still wasn’t convinced. Even hunters were smart enough to know not to bring a sword to a gun fight. All the same, she lowered her pistol, tapping it against her thigh before setting it back on the branch of her tree. “Well, darling, you’ve caught me off guard. I’m not sure I have many secrets from you anymore,” Lydia looked down at her bare body, unashamed, but certainly unsure what to do now. “My name’s Lydia. Who, exactly, are you?” 

Grin still on her face, despite the fact that there was a gun trained on her, Luce let out a laugh. “You always this friendly to heavily armed hikers? Seriously, though, I didn’t mean to interrupt your party with the pixies.” She said, gesturing to the pixies that surrounded them and were still staring at her with wary, beady eyes. Letting her eyes roam daringly over the Fae woman’s body, Luce nodded, “So it would seem. Can’t say I mind.” She said before lowering her hands to rest against the flannel shirt that was tied around her waist. Without her weapons, she definitely felt vulnerable, but you know. Wasn’t part of flirting about vulnerability? “You can call me Luce.” She said. Even though the woman hadn’t asked for her name, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She’d had run-ins with more than a couple Fae women in the past, she didn’t want to wind up forgetting who she was.

“I thought I was deep enough into the woods to avoid the heavily armed hikers,” Lydia replied, looking around at at pixies beside her. She stood a little taller under Luce’s gaze, a little straighter. Without her glamour, her skin had next to no flaws, and glowed light yellow. She smiled slightly. “You’ve interupted now. We could invite you to join in, but you might not like how that would go.” Lydia stepped back into the fairy rings, hips swaying. “Can I now? Luce it is. And what manner of being are you? If not a werewolf nor a hunter?”

“Ah, well. Some of us like to live on the edge.” Luce replied easily, not unduly troubled by the fact that the woman in front of her was still very much not a human. Lydia. That was it. Taking in the way that the she seemed to glow in the light, Luce made note of her appearance-- she didn’t usually dabble in portraits, but there was something about her that just… had to be captured. She might break out her oil paints when she got home. Glancing back to the bag, that was still not as far from Lydia as her sword was from her, she corrected herself. If she got home. “Mmm, I’m good. Not really a mushroom gal, to be honest.” She said. Raising an eyebrow, Luce let out a laugh, “You really thought I was a werewolf?” She’d have to tell Ulf that one. “Human. Very much a human. Not a vampire or any kind of undead either.” She added. That said, it never hurt to keep the fact she was a witch in her back pocket. 

“Now that is disappointing.” Lydia replied, as the pixies chittered around them. Human. “I had assumed most humans wouldn’t wander out while it was raining, not so close to the full moon. I suppose humans here are more foolhardy than most. Oh well.” It was beginning to rain harder, and goosebumps began to raise against her skin. She sensed something from this human though, as she watched her curiously. “You’re an artist, aren’t you? You have impressive potential.”

Luce’s expression shifted from one of amusement to one of vague irritation. Disappointing. She hated that word. Resting a hand on her hip, she shrugged. “What can I say, I live on the edge. Nothing’s better than a nice storm. Seems like you’re in agreement there.” She said with a nod, tilting her head to the fact that Lydia herself was out here in the middle of the woods just as she was. “Tattoo artist. And other mediums, but mostly that. What gave it away, the sleeves?” She asked, her tone returning to the joking, lighter cadence of before. Running a hand through her soaked hair, Luce swept it back out of her face, keeping her eyes focused on the strange, entrancing woman that stood before her. 

“I prefer clear skies to cloudy ones, but we make do,” Lydia replied. She could practically taste it in the air now, the potential held in this woman. There was a hole in her roster, and tattoo artists could be incredibly artistic types. She wouldn’t be able to stay a tattoo artist, of course, but Lydia could work on that. Lydia’s voice softened as she stepped closer. “No, you just have a vibe. What style do you tatt- oh, fuck.” Lydia cursed, spotting three creatures behind Luce. Little red caps were coming for the fae circle. “That’s trouble.”

While Luce was more interested in hearing what Lydia had to say, the fact that there were three disgusting little gremlins with bloody red caps perched on their heads, was putting a slight damper on the little flirtation. “You’re not wrong.” She grimaced before reaching for her sword. But, before she could make a grab for it, one of the creatures swiped at her with its bloodied, iron spear, letting out a complicated hissing and growling that the others seemed to understand. “C’mon, fair is fair. You don’t wanna fight an unarmed gal, do you?” She said cajolingly. Not that it would do much, honestly, but it was worth a shot. The little creatures growled again at her as she went for the sword and instead of regaining the weapon, all she managed to snag was her set of silver brass knuckles. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas on how to stop these fuckers, hm?” Luce asked, directing the question to Lydia.

“They don’t want to fight you, they want to eat you,” Lydia clarified, stepping back and extending her wings to begin hovering. Bloody little things. Their shoes and spears were made to burn, and in any other situation would have bolted. With three pixies to look after, though. “Get between my wings,” Lydia instructed the pixies, because there was shelter under the hard shells of her Elytra. Lydia buzzed up as one of the Redcaps swiped, her heart pounding in her chest. “Running! Running would be excellent! They can’t swim and they-AH!” Lydia yelped as a spear plunged into the tree beside her, inches from her head. She grabbed her gun, knocking the rest of her purse onto the forest floor. “Their hats! Can’t live without them!” The crack of a gunshot echoed through the woods as Lydia shot one of them in the head. That enraged the others. 

“I mean, yeah, I figured. Can’t a girl crack a--” Before Luce could finish her statement, another spear came swinging in her direction and she dodged out of the way. Thank christ she liked doing swordsmanship for fun, otherwise she would have been smacked upside the head. With an irritated noise, Luce glared at the redcap that stood in front of her before making her way, jumping over the spear point to get in close. But, before she could punch it across the face, a gunshot rang through the air and it went down like a sack of potatoes, bullet lodged firmly in its head. Startled, she glanced back at Lydia. Right. Guns. “Well, if we’re bringing out the big guns…” With a flick of her hand, a spark of flame burned brightly in her hands, wreathing the silver knuckles dusters on her fists. Whirling around, Luce brought her foot down on the end of a spear, trapping it in the dirt. As the redcap stared at her in something like horror, she brought her fist back and pummeled it in the face once, twice, leaving burn scorch marks across it’s goblin-like features.

Lydia, only just a foot taller than the redcaps, and still naked, was very much not okay, especially as four more redcaps advanced. Hunters dealt with these in groups, Lydia knew. They had to, because of their natural tolerance to iron and vicious attitudes. As warden killers, they were almost worth keeping around, like it was worth keeping spiders that ate mosquitos. Just not when they were trying to eat her. Lydia shrieked as the night sky filled with fire, before realising its source. Witch! The redcaps were momentarily stunned as she scorched one of them, drawing the attention of the other three, drawing their spears away from Lydia and to Luce. Lydia’s heart hammered as she pointed her pistol at one of them, fired twice, missed, and hit a different one in the arm instead. That had their attention. Bad idea. Lydia screamed again as a spear was thrown at her, burning ice hot along her arm. Fuck that. Looking up, Lydia beat her wings hard enough to jump her up onto a tree branch. Fuckers couldn’t reach her there (right? hopefully?), as she left Luce as bait and tried to shoot them again.

Yanking the iron spear from the redcap’s hand, Luce tried to remember back to her track and field days-- okay, what had that really hot javelin girl told her? Arm back, running start… Luce hucked the spear across the field towards one of the redcaps that had appeared from the trees. The spear hit slightly off the mark, slicing the redcap through the leg and pinning it to the ground where it let out a strangled wale of anger. While these shitty creatures seemed to have no problem with iron, that didn’t make them immune to being skewered. Out of the corner of her eye, Luce saw that Lydia had taken flight to the trees, gun still in hand. Great, Annie Got Her Gun over there was using her as a distraction. “Just peachy.” Luce grumbled under her breath before running to where her sword lay in the ground. Grabbing it, she let loose another torrent of magic, this time running up the length of her sword. “Eat shit and die!” She yelled as she swung at one of the redcaps nearest her. The creature howled in anger before stabbing at her. The weapon was just longer than her own, but it was shorter than her which meant they were on a level playing field. “Do you maybe wanna shoot one of these?” Luce asked as the other two redcaps began to circle around her.

None of them had tried to fly yet, thank god, Lydia thought as she watched Luce below. Her heart hammered louder than the scream of the redcap down below - pinned in place by the spear. That, Lydia could do. She squeezed the trigger, once, twice, three times as its face shattered and turned bloody red. Rain sizzled midair as Luce sent flames running the length of her sword, the other two circling her. Just then, tiny pebbles began hurtling out of the sky, bouncing of the grey skin of the red caps. Roughly sharpened twigs were hurled down at them by pixies, glinting in the sky like fireflies. The redcaps looked up and snarled. One pulled his arm back, teeth bared, and threw his spear up into the sky. When it came down, it came back stained red, a light went out as a pixie fell to the ground. The redcap jeered and scooped up the tiny corpse, and stuffed half of the pixie into his mouth. Her bones crunched like crisps, as he put the rest of her in his pocket. The night sky could cast a blue tint over everything it touched, but as Lydia looked at the tiny feet poking out of that bedraggled pocket, all she saw was red. Bang, bang. It didn’t kill him, but sent him to his knees. “Can’t hit the others with you in the way!”

As Lydia shot at the redcap she’d stabbed with the spear, Luce continued to battle against the two that were prodding at her with their spears. She batted back blow after blow, but they had numbers on her. With a growl, she made an aggressive lunge, trying to stab the closest redcap through the stomach with her sword. But, the redcap jumped out of the way and Luce found herself with her side exposed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Before the redcap nearest her could get a shot on her, twigs rained down, smacking into the monstrous Fae. Looking up, Luce was startled to see pixies trying to fight back. Her shock morphed to horror as she watched the redcap snatch one and shove it into its mouth. “What the fucking shit…” She breathed. When Lydia’s bullets brought the offending creature to its knees, Luce’s jaw tightened. To her right, the remaining redcap had ignored her, following the other creature’s suit and attempting to snatch pixies from the sky. Gritting her teeth, Luce stared at the injured redcap that was glaring daggers in her direction. She’d deal with him later. Whirling on the creature that was trying to grab at the pixies, she conjured a ball of flame and hurled it at the redcap. “Hey! Leave them the fuck alone!” She said before charging at it with her flaming sword. Hopefully the pixies would get the hint and get the hell outta Dodge. 

The redcap in question howled as its cap caught fire, and he hopped from foot to foot as he slapped his cap with intent urgency. So much urgency he didn’t notice Luce swingin at him until the last possible second. He leapt back, baring his teeth, swinging his spear to deflect the sword. He let out a shrill war cry as he leapt at her bodily, aiming to gouge out her eyes. 

The pixies wailed. It was the most pitiful tiny noise Lydia had heard. Her blood boiled, as the pixies darted back under her wings, and she considered again just leaving the human to her fate. Her blood pounded in her ears as she tried to aim at the other one now, feeling something she hadn’t in many years: a ravenous hunger for revenge. “Kill it, or get out of the way!”

Fuck. Luce dodged out of the way as the redcap came at her, hell-bent on ripping her to shreds. But, though she was able to avoid the brunt of the redcaps attack, the edge of the spear grazed across her shoulder as it passed by her. With a strangled gasp, Luce’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the redcap that was staring at her with murderous intent. This fucker... Tossing her sword to the ground, she let the flames surrounding the blade die, the slight trickle of magical energy ceasing. For a moment, she stood there, eyes locked with the creature. Then, it ran at her, spear poised to run her through. Before the creature took another step, Luce’s hand rose and a ball of flame arched from her palm before engulfing the creature’s head in flames. The cap began to burn, the flames devouring it, while the redcap tried and failed to fight the fire off. When the final redcap fell to the ground, Luce waved away the fire and let out a sigh. Looking up at the Fae woman, she spoke up, “Those pixies okay?”

The fire arching from Luce’s hands became blinding, forcing Lydia to look away. Her pupils could not shrink to protect her gaze so she pulled an arm over her eyes. The raw power some humans were gifted with was almost as terrible as the creatures Luce slaughtered with it. Lydia couldn’t find it in her to mourn the redcaps, fae as they were, but the heat of the fire chilled her to her bone. When Luce called to her, Lydia looked down at the bloodied battlefield. She was too used to death in all it’s forms for her stomach to turn, but her heart clenched. Tiny pale legs still poked out of a bloodied pocket. Swallowing, Lydia leapt down from her branch, flapping her wings to break the fall. She looked down at her skin, normally gold but now flecked and smeared with blood. The tiniest cut on her arm burned like the spear had gone through her chest. “They’re… they’re safe now.” Except the one that had crunched like - Lydia stepped back, clutching at her stomach. She was wrong - now it was definitely turning. “Ahem.” She turned her mind back to herself, to the scrapes and bruises and burns, the cold rain raising goosebumps. All that, at least, could be fixed with a meal. Wasn’t it fortunate there was one right there? Full of energy too, and magic that no human ought have. As Lydia looked to Luce, though, she knew she couldn’t. A reason so simple it would become law the moment she spoke it. That too made her stomach coil, but the old laws were more important than… well. “It appears we owe you a debt, human.” Lydia said, and felt the bond of fae magic tie her to Luce. 

“Glad to hear it.” Looking over her shoulder, Luce winced as the rain continued to pour down, washing the blood from her shoulder down the back of her shirt. It wasn’t a bad injury, but she was definitely going to have to make a trip to her mother’s to get it healed. Unlike her nose, her arm was something she didn’t want to wait around to heal on its own. Her job mattered more than avoiding her mother’s games of 20 questions. As Lydia descended from the tree she’d taken flight to, her wings fluttering, Luce was reminded of how otherwordly the woman was. And, remembering the gun that she’d used against the redcaps, how deadly she was. “A debt?” Luce’s eyes widened. Debts. Iggy had told her about debts, about the Fae, and about how seriously those words were. And, to a degree, Luce understood. Magic was about give and take, push and pull. Exchange of energy for power. And this wasn’t all that different. It just meant a fuckton more to have a Fae put that kind of power in her hands. “Seems like it would. Don’t worry too much, though. I’m not an asshole.” She reassured, as she gathered her sword from where she’d thrown it on the ground. Sticking it back on her belt, she glanced at one of the iron spears before picking it up and slinging it over her uninjured shoulder. “Take care of yourself. And those pixies too.” She said with a nod before picking her way back out of the forest, her head reeling with the reality of what had just happened. A Fae debt. Fuck.

It wasn’t until the human walked out of sight that Lydia slumped, crumbling against the nearby tree. Lydia whimpered as the adrenaline drained and her tolerance for pain drained with it. Her hair and skin dulled as she donned her glamour, and pulled her dress back on. It was a long walk back, and she didn’t want to run into any more humans with her wings out. A fucking spellcaster. Worse than an asshole - a human. Lydia plucked two green leaves from the tree, and gently wrapped the pixie’s body in them, as her eyes pricked and her cheeks grew salty as well as wet. She held out her arm sideways for the other pixies. “Do you want a ride home? I’ll help with her funeral rites.” The fairy ring was destroyed, and the communal silent music with it.

[satonthelotuspier]

❄️ Untamed Winter Fest 2019 ❄️

Day 7 - Relax - 2k

That morning Lan Wangji had looked tired, Wei Wuxian considered as he sat idly on the veranda of the Jingshi, playing with Chenqing and watching Lan Wangji’s bunnies hop and flop about in the gently waving grass.

It was understandable; his husband had many responsibilities and duties, not least of which was helping his uncle Lan Qiren pick up the slack of clan leadership with Lan Xichen still not being fully out of seclusion yet. And he had Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian was the first to admit he was a chaotic being, one Lan Wangji’s calm serenity only slightly tempered.

Was he helping to sap his husband’s energy?

Probably.

And if you took into account their “everyday” activities eating into Lan Wangji’s sleep too…

The only conclusion to reach was Lan Wangji needed a break.

So Wei Wuxian would ensure he took one. He would make all the arrangements and make sure Lan Wangji had time to relax. In fact he’d go right now and tell Lan Wangji that’s what they were going to do. He leapt to his feet and bounded down the steps, through the cloud of rabbits and in search of his Lan Zhan.

#

“Lan Zhan” he called excitedly as he found his husband walking through the Cloud Recesses with Lan Sizhui, obviously between lessons.

Lan Wangji didn’t scold him for being noisy. Lan Wangji didn’t scold him for much anymore.

“Lan Zhan, we need to go down the mountain. Are you free in two days?”

“Mn” Lan Wangji confirmed, “If Wei Ying needs to go down the mountain I can arrange to be free in two days”

“Perfect” Wei Wuxian praised, before throwing his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck and hugging him enthusiastically.

His spine suddenly prickled with his Lan Qiren sense and he made himself scare before his husband’s uncle could come across them and start finding ways to make Wei Wuxian’s life suddenly a lot more full of responsibility.

Wei Wuxian had enough of a duty ensuring his husband was happy and well, and it was a job Wei Wuxian took very seriously indeed, so much so that it took up much of his energy and thoughts.

Now, in terms of his day trip, with Lan Wangji’s agreement all he needed to do was make the necessary arrangements. He planned for food from the kitchens and he poured over maps of the area to find somewhere where he could take Lan Wangji away from all his stresses and responsibilities for a day.

Well, all the stresses and responsibilities that weren’t his husband anyway.

#

Sizhui threw more lettuce and carrots down in the grass where the horde of Hanguang-jun’s rabbits bounced around trying to get their share of food.

“So Senior Wei just said they were going down the mountain?” Jingyi asked, adding to the rabbit food spread on the ground from his own basket.

Sizhui nodded, “Yes, isn’t it obvious?”

Jingyi tilted his head considering, “No?” he said eventually.

“They’re going on a night hunt without us” Sizhui explained patiently as he stepped between the sea of little fluffy marshmallows.

Jingyi didn’t quite see the issue, surely there couldn’t be anything in the world Hanguang-jun and Senior Wei couldn’t deal with. He didn’t quite see why Sizhui was so worried.

“We need to go after them. To make sure they’re alright, you know what kind of trouble Senior Wei attracts” Sizhui told him.

Again, it had never been anything their senior’s couldn’t handle together, he wasn’t exactly sure what had Sizhui so distressed. But Sizhui was his best friend, and if his best friend needed him to help in his covert tracking of Senior Wei and Hanguang-jun when they left the mountain tomorrow then Jingyi would help.

#

The morning dawned bright and clear and as a consequence Wei Wuxian was extremely pleased. His plan was all going very well, and he mentally congratulated himself.

It wasn’t very long before everything was in hand and they made their way out of Cloud Recesses to begin their journey.

“Take me flying, Lan Zhan” he demanded of his husband and they mounted Bichen together. Wei Wuxian guided Lan Wangji to the destination he had in mind and he pointed to a meadow for Lan Wangji to aim for.

They strolled, Wei Wuxian darting off to pick meadow flowers, presenting them to Lan Wangji, whose normally expressionless face showed a little bit of confusion.

“Wei Ying, where is the danger?” he asked eventually, and Wei Wuxian realised he’d never actually told Lan Wangji what he’d intended.

He laughed and threw his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, “There isn’t any Lan Zhan, we’re here to relax” he told him, pecking the side of his mouth then pulling away.

“I brought food” he said and set about spreading a blanket out in the meadow.

Lan Wangji didn’t argue, so even though he’d expected to be taking care of some kind of  ghost or ghoul or sprite he must be fine with the arrangement.

They ate lunch. Wei Wuxian showed him how to play a game of “Guess what I’m drawing” which involved tracing the outline of something he’d seen on Lan Wangji’s back, with the other having to guess what it was.

Then Wei Wuxian heard the quacking coming from the reeds of the nearby lake.

“Ducks, come, Lan Zhan, lets look at the ducklings”

Lan Wangji was dragged down to the waterline where they saw a family of ducks paddling past, the mother and father stately while the little ducklings zoomed about behind them.

“I bet they’re tasty” Wei Wuxian commented, glancing at Lan Wangji out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction.

“Wei Ying” the other admonished him half-heartedly, used to being poked for a reaction by his teasing husband by now.

“Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, you’re so stuffy” and then Wei Wuxian pushed the unsuspected Lan Wangji into the lake. Fully dressed. “You need to learn to relax, Lan Zhan” he informed him through his laughter as Lan Wangji surfaced, spluttering and wiping the streaming water out of his face.

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji’s voice was accusing but resigned to his fate, which seemed to entail being at the mercy of Wei Wuxian’s every whim.

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian began undressing hastily, robes thrown out in all directions until he was stripped down to his pants, then he leapt into the water after Lan Wangji.

Originally of the Yunmeng Jiang sect he moved in the lake like a fish, teasing Lan Wangji who, even though he was fully dressed and moved much more slowly due to his sodden robes dragging in the water, normally would still have been able to easily catch Wei Wuxian if he had wanted to. Which meant his husband was giving him free reign to play.

Wei Wuxian did eventually get tired of frolicking however, and with a final dunk of Lan Wangji beneath the water, waited for him to rise up and clear the rivulets from his face again, before he launched himself like an arrow, clinging onto Lan Wangji’s upper body with arms and legs like a sleek cat.

“I want to climb you like a tree. Lan Zhan, kiss me!” he demanded, and the other snorted slightly before obliging, pressing a soft kiss against waiting lips, which Wei Wuxian deepened while Lan Wangji’s hands slid to Wei Wuxian’s thighs to support him and hold him from slipping down.

As they parted Lan Zhan scraped his teeth against Wei Wuxian’s lower lip.

“To dry land” Wei Wuxian ordered then, pointing at the lakeside, and Lan Wangji followed his husband’s directions, wading to the edge of the lake and out and onto the grasses, where Wei Wuxian suddenly threw all his weight backwards and they went tumbling to the ground together. Again he was under no misapprehensive that Lan Wangji would have been perfectly capable of retaining his balance if he hadn’t wanted to let Wei Wuxian have his own way, but why wouldn’t he want his husband warm, willing and playful beneath him in the gently rustling grass?

Wei Wuxian was kissed then with Lan Wangji’s usual fervour, and he responded in kind, thinking they were really going to take the best advantage of this day away from Cloud Recesses as Lan Wangji’s hand drifted down his naked side to rest at his hip, clad in the clinging wet material of his pants. This was all really rather great.

And then they both heard the noise of movement by the treeline.

Lan Wangji immediately summoned Bichen and sent it flying out towards the edge of the clearing where two familiar yelps sounded from, followed by the clang of sword on sword as one of the intruders defended against Bichen’s attack. Bichen returned to Lan Wangji’s hand as he rose from the grass

“Get out here immediately you little monsters” Wei Wuxian called, flipping over as Lan Wangji got up, and trying to leap into retribution range of the juniors.

Lan Wangji caught him around the waist and pulled him back, pressing his outer robe which had fallen nearby into his hands.

“Dress, Wei Ying” he ordered and Wei Wuxian had to settle for scowling at Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi who shuffled into the clearing looking like they were going to an execution and flushing furiously at having caught their seniors “up to no good”. He shrugged back into his outer robe and fastened it haphazardly thinking their execution might not be such a terrible punishment.

“Talk” he ordered, slightly annoyed Lan Wangji wasn’t angrier at being interrupted during their private time.

“Senior Wei, Hanguang-jun” Sizhui sounded suitably ashamed while saluting them, “It was my fault, please don’t be mad at Jingyi” Sizhui took responsibility, and if he hadn’t been so mad (frustrated) Wei Wuxian would have been a little proud of A-Yuan.

But he was mad (frustrated), “What were you even thinking?”

“Senior Wei, you can’t be upset with Sizhui, he was only thinking of your safety” Jingyi told him in a rush, obviously nervous about being caught but still protecting his best friend with his first words.

Again, if it had been any other time he’d compliment Lan Wangji on raising very fine, responsible and loyal disciples.

“Am I not safe from my own husband?” he demanded.

“We thought you were going on a night hunt without us. I was worried” Sizhui told him; he tried not let it but his voice trembled with suppressed emotion. Jingyi patted his shoulder soothingly.

“What in the world do you think Hanguang-jun and I aren’t able to handle A-Yuan?” he asked in exasperation, but relented when he realised how genuinely upset Sizhui was. “Come here” he ordered and the other ran into his arms. Wei Wuxian patted Sizhui’s back awkwardly until he calmed down a little. “We aren’t going to leave you behind A-Yuan. I brought Hanguang-jun away from Cloud Recesses for the day because I needed him to take a rest from everything. It has nothing to do with you”

“I’m sorry I spoiled your trip” Sizhui apologized as he pulled back and rubbed at his wet face with his sleeve.

Wei Wuxian looked up at the sky that was beginning to lose it’s light, and sighed regretfully. “Well, we should go back then, it’s getting late” he said and the Juniors agreed readily.

Apparently though Lan Wangji wasn’t quite done with them yet.

“When we return you will copy the Sect Rules five times” he told them coldly.

It turned out Lan Wangji was very angry with them, that icy facade just hid the extent is all.

He was disappointed his grand day out hadn’t quite ended the way he’d foreseen, but Wei Wuxian could arrange another jaunt away from Cloud Recesses on another day to ensure Lan Wangji could take time out of his busy schedule to relax.

And the next time no junior would dare to follow them.

[grimimic-blog]

The story I made for the game collaboration between me and https://urg-urg-urg.tumblr.com/

Halloween 12 all-stars at the Olympic games team racing, featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry series and Knuckles

AKA A huge Hallows eve!

It was no secret to feyfolk that humans were boring. Nearly void of magic, Nowhere near as attractive as elves, all they ever wanted to talk about was taxes and back pain, and even a starving hill ogre wouldn't eat one because they tasted so awful! Truly the worst species on the planet, but something Gong had overheard earlier in the week while visiting a human tavern had caught the little goblins ears. Human holidays were strange and foreign to many feyfolk. It didn't make much sense to pick an arbitrary day to be wear green and binge drink to Gong. She already did that just about everyday, but this "Halloween" had her full attention. "Fizzy hurry up I don't want to miss all the free shit!" Gong yelled in the direction of her closet. A light thump and some obscured insults preceding the purple fairy fluttering from behind the corner. "Hey you're the one that said we had to "Dress up to get free candy"! I'm just trying to make sure I look good. What happens if I meet a hot guy while we're out!?" "Don't kid yourself Fizz, we both know if you set yourself up for failure you're just going to get drunk and crawl in bed with me again after I fall asleep." "S-shut up! That was one time and I was because I was cold! Just get in here and help pick out something for us to wear!"

the girl's shared closet was surprisingly spacious, but that had a lot to do with all small the girls were themselves. Outfits lined the walls, Hanging from hooks and sitting neatly folded on shelves, but where soon to be scattered on the floor as their owners tried to find the perfect style for the nights festivities. A pair of cocktail dress's that happened to be the nicest thing either of them had ever pull from a dumpster, Some comfy pajamas, A pair of thigh high boots that were actually just regular boots on a normal sized person, and an invisibility cloak that made itself invisible when worn rather than the subject wearing it all lay in a pile on the ground before the girls had picked their outfits for the night. A simple cloth vest skirt combo for Gong, and a long silken dress for Fizzy.

The streets were dimly lit by orange glow of nearby lamp posts. The sounds of screaming children dressed in caricatures costumes of feyfolk that Fizzy and Gong would have found rather insulting if either of them had focused on anything other than their fantasies of what an entire night of free candy would be like. A fantasy that was about to be rudely interrupted by what appeared to be two disheveled, and slightly bloated werecats with plastic ears and tails. "Aayyyy whha-WHAT are you kiz gona do wihou a canny bags!!" Asked the first woman at a volume louder than needed. "Ignore her please. She's had a little too much partying tonight" Said the second stranger, as her friend finished the liquor bottle she was holding. Popping the strained button on her small shorts in the process. "Naht the only one am I!" her overly intoxicated friend replied before giving her soberish friend a hardy slap to the gut that sent the small mound into a sloshing fit. "Alright you're going to home to bed! Stop bothering these Girls."  She said before both werecates walked off into the night. "Gong. That woman said something about a candy bag. All of these kids have candy bags! You didn't say anything about needing bags to get free candy!" "Relax Fizz. The bags can't be that important right? Even if they are we could totally kick the crap out of one of these kids, they're only like five years old, and I brought my brass knuckles." "Fine whatever. I still think there's got to be some kind of catch. No one give things away without making you pay for it". The first house of the night was an unremarkable little thing painted white with green shutters. On the porch sat an older looking man dressed as some sort of vampire farmer who called out to the mas they approached. "Ohh aren't you a cute one! What are you supposed to be one of those pocketmans?" "I'm a goblin, and my friend is a fairy" Gong replied. "Oh you kids and your youth! Here you go. A candy corn on the cob for you, and one for you're little birdy there too".

"Now I know why we needed bags" Sneered Fizz as she crammed another head-sized piece of candy corn into her mouth.  The purple sprite's middle  pushing more, and more outward with each swallow. "We'll be fine." Replied Gong. "We can just eat whatever candy we get as we're walking. It's not like every human is going to give out weird stuff like this right?" "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you spit everything with me fifty fifty alright?" You're like a fifth of my size Fizz! it already looks like you swallowed a tennis ball, and I don't plan on rolling your fat butt all the way home!" "you're one to talk. I'm pretty sure I heard you pop a seam a few minuets ago." The purple pixie punctuated her point with a firm slap to her companions rounded belly. The girl's conversation was cut abruptly short when Gong nearly tripped over the steps leading to the second house of the night. A modest purple building decorated in little ghosts and uncarved pumpkins. The two girls were about to knock when the door burst open and a particularity unspooky spirit stepped out. "Hey there kiddos! You two sure are in for a treat!" Piped the cheery little ghost. "Dude we're like 26" Replied the deadpan Fizzy. "That's alright! You girls can still have a taste of what's under my sheet!" "I'm calling the cops." "My apple pies are famous around here, but not very good for Halloween; Until this year anyway! I've combined apple pie and caramel apples into the ultimate confection!" Cheered the man in the ghost costume as he pulled two caramel covered disks on sticks from under his sheet, and handed them over.

"These are pretty good you know?" Gong said with her mouth still half full. "Kind of hard to eat, but still good". If Fizzy had been listening she didn't or more likely couldn't answer, but being submerged in a pie near the size of your whole body will do that. The difficulty of trying to carry and eat an entire pie on nothing but a cheap craft stick had forced the short sweeties to rest at a picnic table not far down the street. Each bite forced Gong's belly out farther and farther. Straining her clothes, and forcing her legs apart to make room for it's gravid shape. By the time the last bite of thick caramel and flaky apple pie passed her lips the green girl could have easily been mistaken for some near the end of pregnancy; But goblins may as well have been giants compared to fairies, and the effects of the confection were far more pronounced on Fizzy. The candy corn had already left her more than a little bloated, but as the purple pixie slowly ate her way past the hard caramel shell and into the center of the apple pie her belly had ballooned to dramatic levels. Her clothing stood no chance of containing the beast known as the faerie's gut. She laid prone in the pie tin on her basketball of a belly, naked from the waist down, trying with all her might to force any crumb withing reach into her mouth. "Uhh Fizzy any particular reason you aren't wearing underpants?" "Were you not paying attention earlier? What If I meet a stud while we're out? Panties would only get in the way." "Oh right. I forgot that purple balloons were every man's dream girl." Snided Gong. "Anyway, let's get going. the night isn't over yet, and we've got houses to hit."

Gong rang the doorbell of the third house. clutching her heavy, heaving tummy. If she let go her balance was at risk, and the mental image of an watermelon explosion was one she had to shake away more than a few times. The trudge to the third house was made that much longer by her slow, exaggerated, waddling. Each step a miniature battle with her own full tummy. A purple blimp of a pixie bobbing and swayed as she floated behind her. Her own belly nearly scraping on the ground  until a flurry of flapping wins sent her back into the air. The door creaked open. A green sheet that looked distinctively like the ghosts from the earlyer houses poked it's head out the door, googly eyes bouncing wildly. "Who daressss enter the lair of the sneeeeeek?" Hissed the man in very ghost looking "snake" costume. "Nice costume... Dig the color." Gong weezed between breaths. Carrying the extra weight of her turgid gut had left more tired than she realized. "Thankssss friend! I made it myssssself!" Fizzy who's wings were already tired of holding her massive body in air chose to interrupt the two green revelers conversation. "Trick or treat! Now just give us whatever weird candy you've got back there and let us go". If plastic googly eyes could look confused the snake would have looked shockingly bewildered. "There's no weird candy here friends. Just some gummies I'm afraid." Fizz and Gong let out a collective sigh of relief, but apparently it had been too soon as seconds later both of them were nearly knocked over by the enormous gelatinous treats tossed to them by the man in the snake costume. An impressive feat seeing as the costume possessed no arms. "There you go girls, gummy pythons! Hope they're good, I made them myself!"

Bit by chewy bit the gelatinous reptiles were forced into the already packed stomachs of the minuscule monsters as they approached the fourth, and last house on the street. "Ugghh... I swear he must have used a real snake to make molds for these" Fizzy groaned. "I can see the scale prints". "How are we supposed to eat these anyway! One of these is as long as my whole body!" Gong added. "You just gotta slurp it down girl! You've had boyfriends before haven't you?" Fizzy punctuated her insult by taking a large  gulp from the tail end of her gummy snake. "Hey Fizz maybe you should be more careful? You might choke....Or explode." Gong said between bites of her own sugary treat. "you're already looking kinda fat honestly. I was only kidding about the whole rolling you home thing earlier... Are you listening Fizz?" Fizzy unfortunately was not listening as she was far too preoccupied with choking on the massive sugar serpent that currently clogging her windpipe. "Oh my Gods Fizz! Don't worry I-I'll help you! Don't die!" Gong tried every idea she could think of but Fizzy's tiny body made the Heimlich impossible, and the gummy was wedged far too deep in the fairie's bulbous tummy to be dislodged by pulling on it. "Ok. Ok. Think Gong. You can do this." The Goblin muttered to her self, voice seeped in panic. "Ohh I really sorry about this Fizzy. Just hold on I've got another idea." Fizzy wasn't even given a chance to reply before Gong seized the end of the gummy snake and pushed it deeper into her gullet. Slowly the candy serpent was forced into the faerie's stomach. The already strained clothing stretched thinner as seams and stitches popped one by one. Both girls silently hoping they wouldn't be joining them in a similar fashion. As the last of the gummy was crammed down her throat Fizzy fell to the ground. Wings no longer able to lift her boulder of a belly. The impact being the final straw for her poor clothing before the tortured garment released its death knell as it torn to shreds. Fizzy was now nude, and grounded by a belly several times larger than her own body, but she was alive, and the sugary serpent was finally slain. "Oh-oh hell Gong! I though I was gonna die!" Fizzy wheezed out between gasping breaths. "do you still want to go to the next house, or should just head home, so you can rest?" Asked Gong. "No no I still want to keep going. There's only one house left on this street, but I...." "But what? "Do you feel sick? Did you hurt yourself?" Gong's voice was beginning to take on it's previous worried tone. "I can't move... My belly is too heavy..." "I told you this was going to happen! Splitting everything fifty fifty was a stupid idea from the start." "Well we wouldn't have had to eat everything while walking if SOMEONE had remember to bring treat bags!" "Fine I'll carry your fat butt around until we get home! Just let me finish my own gummy first." "I'm not fat. I'm full. there's a difference." The fairy mumbled to herself, as her friend resumed eating the candy snake hanging from around her neck. Choosing to take bites proved to be a much better strategy on Gong's part than swallowing the entire sucrose reptile whole, but it was also much slower. Bite after bite the gummy shrank, and Gong's belly grew. The fabric of her clothing pulled tighter and tighter, threatening to tear any second and leave her as exposed as her purple companion. As the last bit of gummy passed her green lips, Gong took notice of the effects it had on her stomach. The gigantic green orb had ballooned to the size of roughly half her body. Cramming it full with a gummy almost the same length as the goblin was tall may have been a bad idea. No it DEFIANTLY was a bad idea, but there was no way Gong would ever waste free candy!

"Ohh hell... This. This is heavy." "see not so easy is it!" Chided the bloated fairy. Her smirk would have left much more of an impact if not for her own leviathan middle. Gong struggled to lift her huge friend into her arms. A slip of her hand eliciting a sharp gasp from the massive Fizzy. "Watch where you grabbing Gong!" "Ha ha. Whoops." Gong responded. Her face red with embarrassment, as she finally succeeded in hoisting Fizzy over her head, and started the long trudge down the street.

Thud, creak,  thud, creak. Heavy footsteps pounded against aged wood. The combined weight of the two girls was less than that of a large human, but that didn't stop Gong from having a miniature panic attack as each step groaned in their wake. She laid Fizzy down near the doorstep, making sure the overstuffed fairy wouldn't tip over, and rang the bell. Inside the house hurried footsteps responded to the noise. "Like just a sec! I Need *hic* to get my costume on!" For a moment they considered walking away. Cutting their losses and going home unexploded was by no means a bad idea, but as the door swung open, and and the smell of sugary treats floated out, that thought, and really any common sense warning  the two girls about the repercussions of expanding their already massive waistlines was immediately dashed. "Like *hic* sorry about that. Can't hand out candy with out my costume now can I?" Just like the last three houses the owner was dressed in her own variation of a ghost costume, but unlike the others she seemed sort of lumpy around the middle, and Gong swore she could hear the woman emitting a noise that sounded remarkably like faint static.

"Please lady! Just please don't give us anything weird! I can't take anymore. I'm so big already." Groaned The massive Fizz. "Ohh man kid, *urp* like what the hell is wrong with your weird purple dog?" "She's fine don't worry about it. Just tell me you don't have anything on a cob, or a stick, or that you made out of snakes?" "Sorry I don't have any of those. All Ive got is some bags of these fizzy rocks, but they're like old and stuff, so they kind of melted into fizzy boulders." Answered the ghost lady, who pulled two large bags of the candy off the table next to her. They tore into the bags immediately. The woman in the ghost costume hadn't lied when she said the candies had melted together. Large crystalline chunks of candy as large as Gong's head had formed in each bag. Fizzy was devouring mouthfuls of of the hard treat, Seeming to have forgotten the incident with the gummy snake already. Gong ate at a slightly slower, but still noticeably ravenous speed. Half because she wanted this all to be over so she could lay her tired belly to bed, and half because she was too greedy to resist the the gift of free candy. "Ugghh what is this stuff?! My mouth feels all weird, and tingly!" Fizzy whined. "You got anything to drink back there lady?" "Nothing except some orange soda, and I like *hic* totally don't recommend it. "Come on lady we haven't had anything to drink all night. We're dying over here." "Wait here. Said the ghost. After a brief moment she returned from the kitchen with a six pack of orange soda that she handed over to Gong. The first can quenched their thirsts. The second was for fun. The last was because they were both too gluttonous to stop. "I feel- *urp* I feel funny. Fizzy griped. "Aww is *hic* Fizzy felling fizzy?" Gong joked. Oblivious to the fact that both of them were slowly growing rounder. "This *hic* isn't funny Gong! Look at us! We're blowing up!" "I like did try to warn you" Said the woman as she removed her costume. Putting her own bloated stomach on full display. "I've been bloated all night. Those fizzy rocks take forever to dissolve when they get old. "Fizz we need to go now! My belly is *urp* too big! It's getting hard to move!" Gong panicked as the seams of her clothing fought against the inflating green orb inside them. She grabbed Fizzy and waddled away from the house as quickly as her heavy body would allow. Within moments the sound of ripping fabric announced that her clothing had just lost the war against her still inflating gut.

Gong heaved her back into the purple boulder. It rolled slowly, but steadily in the direction of their home. Halloween had not been kind to the goblin nor the fairy. As the last light on the last porch went off signaling the end of the night's celebration both of them were left stark naked, with heavy intensely full bellies, each nearly the same size as Gong was tall. "I was kidding when I said I didn't want to roll you home earlier." I didn't think it was going to be an issue. Gong grunted, as she rolled her friend home. "Maybe your psychic?" Fizzy said. her voice thick with sarcasm. "Can you tell what number I'm thinking of right now?" "No, but I bet it's smaller than your current weight." Gong shot back. "Alright funny girl. Just watch where you going ok? You pushed me into some trash and now I've there's a restaurant flyer stuck to my boobs. What the hell even is a "thanksgiving" about?" "Sorry Fizz. I'll peel it off when we get home. I'm sure it's nothing interesting anyway. You know humans are boring.

THE END

[desvel4da]

Q&A

The meaning behind my url: I’m always sleepy

A picture of me: look at my tagged_me

How many tattoos i have and what they are: 3. 2 on my arm of a hand holding a rose & a seashell w a pearl in it

Last time i cried and why: probably driving in my car, heard sum sad music playing that made me emotional. I be crying in my car like none of the drivers can see me lol

Piercings i have: ears

Favorite band: this is too hard to answer. I can probably tell u a favorite band of a certain genre or decade but this too broad

Biggest turn offs: ppl that think they’re above others / try to belittle others

Top 5 (insert subject): top 5 favorite colors: red, purple, black, yellow, pink

Tattoos i want: wayyyy too many to list here

Biggest turn ons: talents, being taken care of, someone being their real self uninhibitted, someone letting me be my real self uninhibitted in front of them

Age: 23

Ideas of a perfect date: we look at art together at a museum... we both dressed to the nines & we look hot as fuck. we go eat some bomb ass food overlooking the seaside ...dope flowing conversation... & go for a walk on the shore as we share a blunt in the warm sunset....Then we go for a drink and dance the night away to some funky ass music. 

Life goal:  to be happy and fulfilled with myself & make a difference for others 

Piercings i want: maybe more ear piercings

Relationship status: single

Favorite movie: once again... too broad of a question. I need genres lol

A fact about my life: its like a movie i swear lol

Phobia:  Trypophobia. shit creeps me out

Middle name: wasn’t given one

Height: 5″7

Are you a virgin? No

What’s your shoe size? 8.5 or 9 depending on the shoe style/ brand

What’s your sexual orientation? straight

Do you smoke, drink, or take any drugs? yea

Someone you miss: my cat Nena

What’s one thing you regret? wasting my time w certain people

First celebrity you think of when someone says attractive: monica bellucci or naomi campbell

Favorite ice cream? peanutbutter chocolate or red velvet

One insecurity: my laugh. its loud 

What my last text message says: HAHAHA

Have you ever taken a picture naked? yes

Have you ever painted your room? yes

Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? yes

Have you ever slept naked? yes

Have you ever danced in front of your mirror? who hasn’t

Have you ever had a crush? many

Have you ever been dumped? lmao yes

Have you ever stole money from a friend? no

Have you ever gotten in a car with people you just met? does uber count?

Have you ever been in a fist fight? once in hi skool & 2 weeks ago lol

Have you ever snuck out of your house? yes

Have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back? yes

Have you ever been arrested? yes.....

Have you ever made out with a stranger? no.

Have you ever met up with a member of the opposite sex somewhere? lol

Have you ever left your house without telling your parents? i’ve ran away twice b4

Have you ever had a crush on your neighbor? one of them

Have you ever ditched school to do something more fun? yes

Have you ever slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? yes

Have you ever seen someone die? no

Have you ever been on a plane? yes

Have you ever kissed a picture? yes

Have you ever slept in until 3? yes

Have you ever love someone or miss someone right now? hell yea

Have you ever laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? not in a while

Have you ever made a snow angel? “     “

Have you ever played dress up? yea

Have you ever cheated while playing a game? yes

Have you ever been lonely? at times

Have you ever fallen asleep at work/school? work no. school yesss lol

Have you ever been to a club? yes

Have you ever felt an earthquake? ive felt the aftershocks of an earthquake & it was trippy

Have you ever touched a snake? many. human ones too haha

Have you ever ran a red light? yes

Have you ever been suspended from school? hahaha yes. for the aforementioned fist fight

Have you ever had detention? yes

Have you ever been in a car accident? yes

Have you ever hated the way you look? this is a read lmaooo

Have you ever witnessed a crime? every day b

Have you ever pole danced? i ain’t THAT talented

Have you ever been lost? currently

Have you ever been to the opposite side of the country? well i live in the middle of the country....so the opposite would b under? which yes i have

Have you ever felt like dying? ha... next question

Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? yes 

Have you ever sang karaoke? no i dont hav the range honey

Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? never say never 

Have you ever laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? yes... hahaha it was when i was lil i was w my cousin and right after i took a sip of sprite she made me laugh and that shit came out my nostrils lmao... thatshithurtedtho LMAO

Have you ever slept with someone at least 5 years older or younger? slept with on a bed? yes but no sex involved

Have you ever kissed in the rain? yea bitch im a romantic

Have you ever sang in the shower? yes

Have you ever made out in a park? yes i love nature

Have you ever dream that you married someone? don’t recall

Have you ever glued your hand to something? jus happened to me this weekend i glued my hand to an artificial flower on accident 

Have you ever got your tongue stuck to a flag pole? i ain’t corny lik that

Have you ever ever gone to school partially naked? hmmmmmm ima hav to say no for that one

Have you ever been a cheerleader? yeah when i was in kindergarten. i didn’t like how they always say “Ready? Okay.” before every cheer tho and i got fed up and quit lmaooooo

Have you ever sat on a roof top? yes

Have you ever brush your teeth? yes

Have you ever ever too scared to watch scary movies alone? no

Have you ever played chicken? whats that

Have you ever been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? no but ive jumped into a lake with all my clothes on

Have you ever been told you’re hot by a complete stranger? lol yea

Have you ever broken a bone? no 

Have you ever been easily amused? naw

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried? those r the besssst

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? hahaha yes

Have you ever cheated on a test? ya

Have you ever forgotten someone’s name? yes

Have you ever met someone who didn’t seem real? for sure

Give us one thing about you that no one knows.  I love writing and am looking for a penpal.

hope that gave u the insight u were looking for.... if not,my asks are open u know :)

[eeee-lye]

Short Fiction: Old Fashioned

Summary: Amelia March is tired of suitors breaking into her house after dark to express their undying love. Sure, it might be the fashion, but whatever happened to getting to know someone first? Why won’t they listen to her when she says she isn’t interested? And what does it mean that her cousin Kit thinks there’s a word for her approach to romantic relationships?

Old Fashioned is a story about finding words and the importance of fake cobwebs in the windows.

Genre: Slightly absurd fantasy with trans, autistic and aro-spec characters.

Length: 4, 510 words.

Content advisory: This short story depicts a woman somewhat enthusiastically wounding a home invader, despite awareness of the fact that said invader isn’t there to kill her. It also depicts this love interest engaged in the creepy but traditional (at least in literature) act of invading her house, unasked and uninvited, as a sexual/romantic gesture towards a woman who doesn’t want it and is explicit about this. The protagonist also threatens and imagines violence and murder on several occasions as a form of bluster. There’s also a non-detailed reference to the fantasy-setting way a character lost a limb.

Note the first: Amelia and Kit are characters from my fantasy web serial [The Unnatural Philosophy of Kit March], which also contains trans, autistic and aromantic characters in an entirely no-romance plot. This story takes place forty years earlier.

Note the second: Posting for #AggressivelyArospectacular hosted by @aggressivelyarospec, in case people are interested in more aro creativity.

After the parsnips, though, Amelia fears the creaking can only mean one thing. The lovelorn.

When Amelia March, upon waking from a sound sleep, hears the second rustle, she reaches beside her bed and rests her fingers on the smooth wood of her favourite staff. In her old life, as a student in Siya, having a weapon by one’s mattress borders on the absurd; here, in a rural Greenstone village, anyone who doesn’t sleep within reach of a weapon—a broomstick, a knife, a furious cat—lacks something in the sense department. True, she’s an indifferent witch at best, but after dealing with ghosts, injured villagers, possessed chickens and That Time With The Parsnips, she’s learnt to be armed at all times. The bloodstained grimoire in her kitchen, after all, doesn’t frighten people nearly as much as a good clip over the ear.

She sits and raises the staff so that she can swing out with the knobbly end, listening to the soft brush of feet over stone. It isn’t Kit; she hears no tap of wood. It isn’t Midnight: no cat will rustle and risk being mistaken for an intruder. No mice or spiders dare her house, between her ward spells, her cleaning and the cat; even the local moths know better than to find shelter within her walls. Anyone with legitimate business, of the sort that involves accidents or illness of human and beast, will beat on her front door and bellow.

She hopes, prays, that it’s the Jackson twins trying to attempt another demon-summoning by stealing the requisite texts.

After the parsnips, though, Amelia fears the noise can only mean one thing.

The lovelorn.

Nighttime stalking has become all the rage amongst the lovesick, impressionable, young and downright foolish—a fashion worse than unnecessarily-constricting corsetry and wide-legged breeches. Worse than last summer, even, when everyone went about quoting romantic poetry in lieu of just asking someone to the town hall dance. Goddess save her, what’s so wrong with just asking? Now, though, love is all about climbing through second-storey windows and watching their lover sleep; roses are passé. Romance, these days, is about being new and innovative and showing to the world just how far one will go—even if it means proclaiming their star-crossed interest from the damp, oft-neglected village lock-up the next morning. Bruises, trellises bearing briar brambles, irate parents armed with brooms and even magic seem no deterrent.

The problem isn’t the trend: Amelia admits to a certain satisfaction when she wakes up in the morning to discover a forlorn youth on her doorstep bearing a sprained ankle or hideous scratches. Calling them five different ways of brainless is moderately entertaining and more than makes up for the waste of her time—if they plague someone else.

Amelia, curse the Goddess, is still young enough to be interesting.

A faint grunt echoes from the open door, as if muffled by a hand. In daylight, Amelia knows nothing more about fighting than the next person��save for a doctor’s knowledge of where she might best apply a blade or staff for agony or death. In the dark—and in a room with most breakable objects on the shelf above her head, because Amelia knows her aim to be atrocious with any tool larger than a scalpel—her lack of training doesn’t matter. She waits a moment longer, listening for the distinctive gasp as the intruder stubs their toe on the raised stone slab just before her bed, before aiming at what she guesses to be collarbone height and swinging.

The crack of the staff landing on bone is followed, immediately, by an ear-splitting shriek.

Amelia swings again. A thud sounds, followed by a series of thumps, something clattering, and then vicious swearing—not the words one uses to address the village witch—and a sniffle before several soft sobs.

“I just had to get another bloody weeper, didn’t I?” Amelia places the staff on the bed—right where she can grab it in her left hand if needed—and reaches up to tap the jar of dozing sprites into wakefulness before leaning over to fumble at the lamp sitting on her chest of drawers. “Do none of you ever think how much this is costing me in kerosene and matches and sprites?”

It takes a moment for the lamp to catch and light the room, which is just as well, for half the sprites sink to the bottom of the jar with only the faintest of yellow glows. Amelia sits back down in bed, pulls up the covers and stares at her intruder.

A young woman—one of the village shopgirls, although Amelia can’t remember her name—sits huddled on the floor, one hand wrapped around her opposite elbow. She is gorgeous, Amelia admits: round and curvy, with a mane of curly chestnut hair tumbling down her back and falling in her eyes. Big, beautiful, green eyes, paired with the kind of pouty lips Amelia enjoys pressed against her own when the kissing happens to be mutually agreed upon.

Well, she liked Lyra’s lips pressed against her own, even if she’s yet to meet another woman who makes her feel that kind of want.

The shopgirl is beautiful, but all Amelia feels is irritation. She should be asleep with a cat at her feet! She shouldn’t be staring at a girl who, for some incomprehensible reason, forgot to wear a few useful things like shoes, underwear and clothing! Amelia sighs, grinding her teeth. Perhaps something is wrong with her—her fellow students in Siya surely implied it when they didn’t state it outright. Some people, she knows, are less annoyed by the discovery of a naked person of the correct gender and age in their bedroom—especially if the intruder shows a willing intent of getting under the covers and beginning a seduction.

She doubts that the girl meant to touch her without waking her; this is misguided romance, not assault.

Assault she can handle.

Refusing the attentions of a sobbing girl, though, wasn’t covered in the university curriculum.

Everyone does this nowadays. Lovers skip the whole tradition of meeting, dating, getting to know each other over a meal or two, the nervous small-talk where two people try to figure out where the other stands with regards common interests and how soon they can talk of bedding without being offensive. They don’t become friends first and then wait to see if that spark of interest flares. No, everyone in the village sighs over the love and romance of a mysterious stalker. How else can someone prove their love for another, if they aren’t willing to take the risk of creeping into their love-interest’s house after dark?

Lyra didn’t do that. Lyra sat down beside her in the library, a pile of books between them, and they spent weeks talking about the best way to drain a corpse and the benefits of mattress stitch before anyone attempted even chaste kissing. They knew they were medical students bonding over their dabbling in witchcraft and shared belief in gnome voting equality before anything as messy as love entered the discussion.

Amelia suppresses a groan and looks down at the woman.

The shopgirl—Goddess, what is her name?—flutters her damp eyelashes but doesn’t answer. Amelia has read enough romance novels to know this as some attempt to look alluring, but she just looks like a near-stranger with an eyelash stuck in her eye. A pretty stranger, but a stranger. They’ve exchanged a bare handful of words at the shop, mostly requests for a pound of sugar, more tea-tree oil and can Amelia order in a selection of mandrake roots—none of the conversations leading to the kind of friendship needed for a midnight tryst. How does the girl know they’re compatible in bed? How does the girl know if Amelia is even interested in bedding? What if Amelia doesn’t have the required breakfast foods in the house for the next morning? Why would anyone risk such an act based on so little information?

“Well?” Amelia resists the urge to grab the stick and thump the intruder over the ear. She asked a question, a perfectly reasonable question. Social custom dictates that the girl answer. “Do you think about how much all this is costing me? Don’t you think it’s bloody inconsiderate?”

The shopgirl blinks and says nothing.

Just how are they all getting in? Amelia fastened the windows and bolted the front door before going to bed, checking every lock twice; she made sure that nobody can open the catches from the outside after the last debacle, and she won’t sleep through a window breaking—if anyone wants to annoy a witch by breaking her windows. Perhaps the intruder decided to risk the nesting devil in the cellar and entered by the cellar door? Just what has the world come to when not even a devil keeps out the lovelorn?

Why are these villagers are interested in her? She wears plain dresses and aprons for a reason! She doesn’t try not to bore people with talk about the best ways to disinfect a worktable! She wears the bloody black broad-brimmed hat and leaves a bloodstained grimoire—one with purification spells worked on the cover, of course, because a bloodstained grimoire isn’t all that sanitary—out on her kitchen bench! She named her cat Midnight! She’s an awkward, divergent witch who doesn’t try to be more approachable and friendly! She doesn’t get anyone to fix the crooked walls or floors, she keeps seasoning herbs in bubbled glass vials and she recites fake spells when cleaning wounds just to make her patients feel more comfortable with the efficacy of her work! Short of building an altar in the yard and sacrificing chickens to some dread demon every Sunday, she can’t be more witchy!

“If you’re not going to refund me for my swiving matches, get up, stop crying and go home. Try asking someone else out the proper way. Tell them your name first.”

The woman peers up at Amelia, now trying a wobbly sort of smile. “You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw, and I love—”

Some tiny part of her, the part of her that looks in the mirror and sees late-afternoon shadow and square shoulders and a chest that requires padding to properly fill out a gown or dress, relents—but that’s silly. She’s a woman. The Goddess made her. Being a woman in a less-conventional way doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have standards. She doesn’t want someone who invades her privacy; she wants someone who takes the time to befriend her first. Lyra did. Why should anything else matter?

“And you’re a swiving stranger invading my house.” Amelia folds her arms, positioning her gaze above the girl’s head. Isn’t she cold, with only the rug between her feet and the uneven stone floor? If Amelia’s feet are freezing despite her knobbly-knitted bed socks and her patchwork quilt, why isn’t the girl shivering? “Now get out before I throw my cat at you.”

A soft thump sounds like Midnight streaking for the hallway, even though her cat should know better.

The woman’s smile fades as she struggles to her feet with her fingers still cupping her elbow. “But … I did all this for you. I love you.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and grabs her staff, staring at the girl and trying to look witchy despite her floral-print nightgown. No, Amelia isn’t a good witch in some ways, but in many ways being divergent makes her as much a witch as the real thing. The village doesn’t question her post because she is good at pretending to be magical, because she does know a little script magic and studied with the Sanguarian in addition to her years in Siya. The latter makes her seem just as magical as if she does know how to summon zombies—and a good sight more useful.

Has it occurred to the girl that she’ll have to return tomorrow to ask the witch who wounded her to do something about it?

Of course, working as a village witch instead of as a village doctor is its own gaping wound, because Amelia can’t forget that words matter, behaviour matters: that witches, not doctors, are permitted to be strange. This isn’t the job she wanted; this isn’t the job for which she spent ten years in Siya. It gives her a crooked house, a monthly income and a purpose, though, and all she needs do is decorate her curtains with embroidered cobwebs, resist the need to dust her crooked bottle collection and block a few glowing spells.

“If you don’t get out of my house in two minutes, I’ll turn you and your family into toads. Dead toads. They’ll have to bury you all in a shoebox.”

“But…”

“What has ‘but’ got to do with it?” Amelia slides out of bed, sure to place her feet on the rug, and reaches for the phial she keeps on the shelf above her head. Damn the girl, getting her up out of bed after midnight—the floor is freezing! “I hope this works properly, this time. Last time I attempted a cross-species transfiguration, the target ended up with the head and body of a toad and seven legs best described as belonging to an oversized tarantula…”

The shopgirl turns for the door, yelps as she snags her toe on the crooked stone in the hallway, and thunders her way down the stairs.

“Tell everyone that if they wish to romance me, they can send a request in writing!” Amelia sighs and returns the bottle—filled with nothing more ominous than dyed water—to its place on the shelf. “With references!”

The front door, with its ominous-but-useful-for-scaring-people creak, slams shut, followed by the crunch of the woman’s footsteps as she runs down the gravel path towards the village. Amelia waits until the noise fades before sliding her feet into her old boots, taking the lamp and following the girl downstairs. She chews her lip, grumbling, as she checks the windows, pets the devil, jams the cellar door shut with a sliver of wood, and sets down lines of pepper and dried basil leaves in the hope that the villagers think them a magical protection. Tomorrow, she’ll have to do something about the cellar. A dangerous-looking creature that likes the dark and doesn’t make too much noise will do nicely, although Amelia never imagined that the nesting devil won’t be threatening enough. Something must be done; no more having her sleep interrupted by the desperate whims of people thinking themselves in love!

She stomps back up the stairs and stops only to greet Midnight, now sitting on the topmost step with his long, black tail swishing back and forth. “Goddess! I wasn’t really going to throw you!” She sits back down beside her cat, rests the lamp on one step and holds out one hand for him to sniff; only when he starts rubbing the side of his face against her hand does Amelia offer an apologetic scratch under the chin. “Do they think that because they’re pretty, I’m not going to care if they invade my house? Do they think that because they’re naked, I’m going to tear my clothes off and ravish them? Why is this the fashion? Why don’t they want to get to know people first? Why?”

Midnight just tilts his head so that Amelia can shift her fingers into his favourite scratchy place behind his ear.

“I’m just too old fashioned,” she says, and even though Midnight doesn’t answer her, that’s the benefit of a cat: no contradicting, no arguing, just a quiet, tactile presence in return for food and petting.

“She is gorgeous. Well, if you’re into women, so my appreciation is aesthetic, but you are. You know you don’t have to kick these people out because I’m here? I don’t mind if you want to take some lovely woman and ravish away. Or just kiss. Or sit by the fire and stare into each other’s eyes while the stars whirl overhead…”

People, on the other hand!

Amelia jerks and turns her head. At the top of the landing sits two doors: one leading to her room, one leading to the guest room. Kit, Amelia’s cousin and professional annoyance, stands in the guest room doorway, wobbling, on two crutches. Even as she watches, he leans against the door frame, his nightshirt rumpled. His left foot rests square against the floor, bare despite the cold; his right leg, ending halfway below his knee and swathed in a bundle of bandages, just hangs. They’ll need to work, she thinks, on the way his upper body twists to balance himself, a way that will be a problem if allowed to become a habit.

He beams at her, though, a short man with pillow-flattened hair sticking out at a variety of angles, and that’s the most frustrating thing. Tears she can deal with. Misery and grief are expected. This insufferable good cheer, as though this is no more inconvenient to him—despite the ashy undertone to his dark skin and the weight he’s lost—than losing a fingernail, makes her want to beat him upside the head. Several times.

“What the swiving hell do you think you’re bloody doing? Get back to bed!” Amelia grabs the lamp and leaps to her feet as fast as is possible without slopping kerosene. She knew it was a bad idea to leave crutches within Kit’s reach after the horror of teaching him how to use them, but the fear of what happens if she’s called out and cannot get someone to sit with him made it seem the safest decision. Still a terrible idea, given his propensity to escapades and inability to consider the consequences. “Now! If you tear a stitch I’m going to punch you so hard you won’t have any teeth left!”

Kit just grins, showing most of those same teeth. He doesn’t move, leaving Amelia to wonder if it’s because he’s feeling good enough to annoy her or if it’s because he’s too worn out to do anything but lean. “No, you won’t. You won’t take the risk of my falling over. Of course, not wanting sex or romance is a valid option. Do you know that it’s an option, Amelia? Or—no, I think you don’t feel that kind of attraction until you befriend them first, based on the letters you sent Grandmother while in Siya—”

She doesn’t speak so much as give a rattling scream of frustration. Every time she thinks he’s reached a new degree of interfering, he always, always, finds a way to surpass it. Maybe she should make him walk past a basilisk guarding every entrance, even though Kit told the tale of his neighbour’s pets, a miscalculated step and Plumeria’s surprise axe-wielding skills with an uncharacteristic and sobering quiet.

No. Amelia sighs, catches herself grinding her teeth and starts chewing on her nails instead. Even she knows that’s meaner a thought than is warranted. She can fantasise, though. Given that Kit spent most of their childhood coming up with new ways to poke his nose into Amelia’s life, she’s earnt the right to imagine how she might best torture him.

Besides, they both know that she’s a master of bluster.

It occurs to her that might have something to do with why the villagers don’t fear her.

“Once you became friends with Lyra, good friends, everything took a distinct turn for the romantic, I remember. Maybe you didn’t notice? I mean, she’s the only woman you ever kissed, yes? There’s a word for it, now, although referring to someone as ‘demi’ is rather confusing, since demigods tend to do that, too.”

Amelia draws a breath and points towards the spare room doorway. What is he doing? “Get back to your bloody bed!”

“Demiromantic. Maybe demisexual, too?” Kit sounds not even slightly perturbed, and he makes no attempt to turn around. “Surely, it’s in your medical books, somewhere? Anyway, did I ever tell you how I found out about it? I was sitting in a taproom in Raugue with a swordsman I picked up in Arsh. I don’t recall how I got on the subject of listing previous lovers, mind you—probably had something to do with the unexpectedly good whiskey—but he nodded and asked if I’d considered the fact that there might be a word for the truth that I’m chronically uninterested in keeping a partner—”

The only thing to do is stalk past him, enter her bedroom, give Midnight time to join her and then slam the door shut loudly enough to make Kit stop talking.

“Demiromantic!” he yells, just as Amelia curses the too-wide crack between door and floor. “We know our own, Amelia!”

She chews her smallest fingernail down to the quick, straining to hear the creaking, tapping noise of a man on crutches crossing the less-than-flat floor. One thud, a grasping or dragging noise too light to be that of a body hitting the floor, silence.

“Amelia? I promise I won’t say anything if you’ll, well, help me…”

She opens the door and glares across the landing.

“Please?” Kit doesn’t so much as lean against the doorframe as clutch it like a drowning sailor clinging to a spar. “I tried to turn and it got dizzy.”

She doesn’t have to tell him he deserves it: Amelia just grins.

He doesn’t speak as they inch their way through the door and over four stone slabs of varying heights, and he still doesn’t speak once they reach the narrow bed, one taking up the entire length of the room. He must be tired, she thinks, because by the time he lowers himself down on the bed and releases his grip on her nightdress Kit still hasn’t broken this most unnatural silence—and this is the man who considers bathing a suitable time for discussing the specific usage in spell constructs for every possible synonym of the word “red”. No, he just settles himself, his teeth pressed against his lip, and slumps against the pillow.

She wonders if getting up, crutching across the room and talking at her, however unnecessary, was his way of trying to find a shade of normality in a life that has abruptly ceased being normal.

“Trade,” Amelia says, knowing she’ll live to regret it. She stalks over to the basin beside the bed, fills it with the remainder of the water in the pitcher and scrubs her hands until the room smells of tea-tree soap. “If you let me poke at you, I’ll let you tell me about whatever word you found for your bed bouncing. As long as you don’t tell me what you did with the swordsman in Raugue.”

Kit’s sudden smile is broad enough that Amelia wonders, for a moment, on the honesty of his quiet. She can’t put him past pretending just to manipulate her into talking, after all. “Nothing, actually. I was too taken aback by the idea that it is possible to be romantically disinclined. Aromantic. It explains so much about the time I panicked and, uh, climbed out the window to escape a Malvadan merchant who wanted to introduce me to his parents. I admit it wasn’t the most well-thought-out decision I’d ever made…”

His voice softens and his smile fades, his eyes flicking up to the rafters.

Amelia dries her hands, grabs the bean bag from the dresser and tosses it onto Kit’s chest. He grunts, but he picks it up and starts teasing at the beans encased in the flannel, while she pulls her chair up to the end of the bed, folds back the covers and starts unwinding.

She’s old fashioned. Simple, uncomplicated. In a world where a divergent shift woman who trained as a doctor and works as a witch offers complication enough, it isn’t a terrible thing to want to reject something that adds an extra layer of difference to the person she is. She’s just old fashioned, and that isn’t a bad thing to be—certainly not if it means she doesn’t find herself in the village lock-up after entering someone else’s home!

Yet there’s an understanding the village shares, a feeling that doesn’t include her. She understands running away from someone wanting something she can’t return—or forcing them to run away from her. She doesn’t understand running toward someone else in the hope that they too share her desire. She doesn’t understand, not in the heart, the books she reads. She doesn’t understand love or want at first sight, she doesn’t understand love or want without prior friendship or connection, and she doesn’t understand the love or want that drives shopgirls to risk it all on an irascible witch.

She doesn’t understand the kind of love and want that dominates song, poem, legend, novel.

Admitting that feels strangely liberating.

“You climbed out someone else’s window? Just to avoid meeting his parents? Because you didn’t…?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Kit jerks the bag in time with each word, sighs. “I didn’t love him like that, but he thought I did. I haven’t loved anyone like that. I’ve thought, a few times, if I just gave it longer, maybe … but it doesn’t happen. Not the way books say romance does.” Kit shrugs, raises his right hand to his ear and rattles the bag. He still doesn’t look at her, her hands or the stump being revealed under layers of linen, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about the likelihood of his climbing out of future windows. “There’s words for us too, Amelia. Fewer stories, but words nonetheless. Maybe I should write a book while I’m cooped up here…”

Amelia draws a breath and wonders. There’s the love in books and songs and hope, wild and incomprehensible, but there’s also the love of a cousin who knows she doesn’t really mean it when she threatens to lock him in the cellar, or the love of a cousin who gets under her skin but knows her door is always open. There’s the love that’s history and the sharing of words with someone else, words spoken by someone who knows just how much they matter.

She isn’t soft, isn’t gentle, isn’t kind. She tries, though, to survive this confusing world of people who behave in ways unpredictable, and maybe that, too, is a form of love. The love of a pretend witch for her people, brittle and fragile and born of exasperation, but what else keeps her rolling out of bed to deal with her village? What else makes her sit in the evening and embroider cobwebs on her curtains? What else has her here beside a man who enjoys frustrating her? What else has her wondering that this story, this time, might be hers?

Amelia March knows she isn’t an agreeable person, but she isn’t void of love.

“Tell me about this, Kit. Demiromantic?”

Love isn’t something she ever considered in need of categorising and labelling.

Maybe it should be.

[oldcastielrip]

You're Mine (Castiel x Reader)

Request: I love your fics, they’re amazing! Do you think you could do one where Cas is dating the reader but people keep hitting on him when they’re out, kinda based off season 10 episode 7? Thank you! :))

Title: You’re Mine

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: it’s a bit fluffy :)

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Having to turn Dean from demon to human and Cas loosing his grace, your mind has been running nonstop.

You decided that it was probably best if you stayed with your boyfriend. You didn’t dare leave him alone, especially since you knew that the stolen grace he had was doing more bad than good.

You weren’t too happy to know that he didn’t want to get his own grace back, that he was willing to die and leave you. It was selfish but you couldn’t let him go, you just couldn’t.

Right now you were currently holed up in a motel room with Castiel and Hannah, still looking for some rogue angels.

“It’s getting easier. Isaac came back willing, didn’t even resist.” Hannah stated as she crossed something off from the board. “There are still some angels down here but the higher profile rogues are back.”

You sat next to Cas, your laptop in hand as you researched for any signs of angel doings.

“We find them all. That’s the mission.” Your boyfriend responded, standing up from the bed. “Here. Christopher Sherman, pastor. Local papers in Tennessee say he’s working miracles in his Parish.”

“Figurative speech?” You suggested to the angel.

He looked at you and sighed a little. “Perhaps, but it’s the best lead we had.”

You walked over to Cas’ side and looked at all the markings and newspaper articles you had hung up.

He was right. This was the closest thing you had to a lead.

&Idquo;Until we find something stronger, we should—”

You had both simultaneously looked over towards Hannah, only to find her completely naked.

“Oh my god,” You squeaked out in surprise. You quickly turned around, your hands flying to Castiel’s face to prevent him from seeing anything.

“—check it out.” Cas finished his sentence gruffly, stiffening under your touch.

“Hannah,” You laughed awkwardly.

You couldn’t hold it against her. You knew that she didn’t know it was inappropriate to get naked in front of other people.

You shuffled around uncomfortably, trying not to look directly at the confused angel.

Your hands still gently placed over your boyfriend’s face. He did not need to be seeing any other women naked.

“What’re you doing?” You asked her softly.

“I’m taking a shower,” She replied, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“We don’t need to shower,” Cas spoke up beside you.

“I know,” The angel answered, walking into the bathroom.

You sighed in relief as her naked body was finally out of sight, your hands dropping to your side.

Cas gave you an apologetic gaze as he looked down at you. The giggle that fell from your lips was enough to relax him.

“How’re you?” You asked him softly, grabbing onto his trench coat as you stepped closer to him.

He looked conflicted. He knew that he couldn’t lie to you but he didn’t want to tell you the truth.

“I’m okay.” The angel said carefully.

You looked up at him knowingly, not sure if you really believed him.

“Cas,” You sighed, giving him a pleading look to tell you the truth.

“At this moment, I am okay Y/N.” He replied softly, his hands entangling themselves in your hair. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

You nodded, standing on your tip toes to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

You and Cas quickly made your way to the closest diner to eat, leaving Hannah in the motel.

It was the first time in a few days that you were finally alone with the angel and you were definitely not going to waste it.

“What can I get y'all today?” A waitress asked as she walked up to your table.

“I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger with a Sprite please.” You answered almost instantly.

Cas gave you a small smile, one you returned happily.

“How about you handsome?” She asked the angel, finally looking up from her notepad.

Your jaw dropped in surprise. You did not expect her to flirt with him.

“I’ll take the same,” He stuttered slightly, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Sure thing sugar.” She answered, giving him a small wink before walking away.

You huffed quietly, letting go of his hand. It wasn’t his fault at all but you felt extremely annoyed now.

“Y/N..” Cas called out softly, trying to gain your attention.

“She really had the nerve.” You muttered quietly to yourself.

Cas got out from his side of the booth before sitting beside you.

You kept your gaze on the table, feeling slightly embarrassed that he was seeing you jealous and annoyed.

“Why’d you have to pick such an attractive vessel?” You whined childishly, finally looking up at him.

“But you like this vessel.” Cas pointed out, chuckling slightly.

“I know but you’re mine.” You pouted, leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheek.

“I still am baby.” He whispered as he leaned in closer to you, his lips grazing yours.

He kissed you tenderly.

It was enough to make your body tingle with emotions. It was just like the first few kisses you ever shared. Those kisses you cherished and always longed for.

Time stood still when you kissed him. It was as if you were in your own little world. And you never wanted it to end.

But sadly, it did.

Someone clearing their throat brought the both of you out of your little bubble.

You pulled away from Cas, smirking slightly as you noticed it was the waitress.

Her face scrunched up in distaste as she forced a smile. Your smirk only grew as you felt Cas’ hand rest on your thigh and you knew she could see it.

“Here’s your food.” She cheered falsely, placing the plates in front of you. “Enjoy.”

A laugh fell from your lips as she hurried away. Cas looked at you with amusement, squeezing your leg comfortingly.

“I don’t understand why you get jealous,” Cas thought out loud. “I would never think to leave you for anyone else.”

“I love you,” You said softly, pecking his lips.

“And I love you.” He responded, watching you adoringly as you began to eat.

A/N: i literally rewrote this so many times omg but this is my finally product :)

hope you enjoy!

credit to the owner this gif

A/N: hey y’all ok so due to some difficulties.. i have moved blogs so this one will no longer be active, i’ll just keep it up bc of all my old posts

so please feel free to follow me at @castielrip​ and feel free to send me REQUESTS there as well

sorry for the inconvenience

thank you!

[shadeof-sage]

I gotta do this. Nobody cares but I gotta do it

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? • "well, I didn't see this coming. Did you?" 2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed? • we don't really talk anymore. I don't really know what happened, but I wish our friendship wasn't ruined. 3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care? • I'm down for them to be into anything except for meth 4. Is your last name longer than six letters? • nope. 5 5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober? • drunk cause New Year's Eve, baby 6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up? •ohhh yeah. it's already happened twice this year 7. What does your last received text say? • "psst" 8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? • I can't remember an exact number but it was multiple times 9. Where was your last kiss at? • in my friends front yard 10. When is the last time you saw your sister? • last night when I got home 11. What do you drink in the morning? • tea, water, oj, and beer on a good day 12. Where did you sleep last night? • my bedaroo 13. Do you think relationships are hard? • they can be if the other person doesn't give equal effort 14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? • ohh yeah, the list is too long to type lol 15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems? • nah. we'd most likely start talking about what happened with us. at least I'd hope that would be what happened. it could also just be silent. or, we'd get drunk and then talk about shit. lol 16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? • raining while it's sunny!! 17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? • surprisingly, no. it's such a common middle name 18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants? • boxer briefs that I stole from someone. they're comfy as hell 19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now? • who knows 20. Does anyone like you? • I'd like to think so 21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S? • no, I don't think so 22. Is the last person you kissed gay? • haha no. that would be a plot twist 23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand? • Donald Trump 24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo? • I plan on getting my whole body tatted 25. In the past week have you cried? • yes, in the shower 26. What breed was the last dog you saw? • a gorgeous German Shepard 27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower? • in the shower 28. Have you ever kissed a football player? • 3. unfortunately. those lil fuckboys 29. Do you think you’re old? • my soul is old, but my body isn't 30. Do you like text messaging? •if I wasn't so shy, I'd definitely want to talk on the phone more. text messaging is a good safe zone 31. What type of day are you having? • I just woke up, I don't know yet 32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? • it's been pierced 3 times. it never works out, although I do want to try it again someday 33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather? • fucking warm as hell, r u kidding me 34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you? •hell yeah, multiple people 35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling? • depends. some people are relationship worthy and some people are better as flings 36. Are you a simple or complicated person? • I'd like to think I'm a simple person, but I'm not 37. What song are you listening to? • palemote. it's from my sleep playlist 38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it? • wholeheartedly. That's why i don't say it very often 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you? • yeppers 40. What made you start liking the person you like now? • I don't really like anyone right now. 41. When did you last receive a text message? • 4 minutes ago 42. What is wrong with you right now? • haha, don't get me started 43. How well do you know the last female you texted? • she works with me and I've never seen her out of work, so not much 44. Does anyone disgust you? • Donald fucking trump 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked? • depends who they were and if we have a connection 46. Are you in a good mood right now? • neutral 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person? • my sister 48. What color shirt are you wearing? • a darkish blue 49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? • yeah. this guy asked me on a date to the movies and it made me cringe a lil bit and I don't know how to get out of it 50. Anyone you’re giving up on? • nope. I don't give up on people. unless they want me out of their life completely 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? • no. I'm still in love with him actually. I can't really move on because I haven't had the closer that I need 52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t? • you have no idea 53. Do you like rain? • I crave it 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks? • nah, we'll having drinking competitions 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them? • haha yep. but I didn't tell them because I was too afraid that I was going to get hurt 56. Do you like to cuddle? • I love it, I just can't fall asleep when cuddled 57. Are you shy? • depends on who the person is. I try not to be 58. Do you get along with girls? • yessss, all da girls are my friendz 59. Have you dated the person you texted last? • no, and I don't want to 60. What do you carry with you at all times? • haha, this one will be funny. i carry my wallet, 4 lighters, weed, a pipe, rolling papers, makeup bag, 2 chapsticks, something minty, eye drops, naproxen sodium (for nasty ass migraines), a flashlight, phone charger, a water bottle and an old spice container I put tequila in sometimes so I can have a little somethin somethin during the day 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you? • GHOSTS! :D :D :D 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months? • I've never even had a relationship in general, but I'd hope so lol 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship? • nah, single as the pringles I was eatin 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute? • yes, I'd cry a little bit on the inside 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week? • probably. can't remember anything too special though 66. How old are the last three people you kissed? • hahaha. 21, 20, and 28 67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself? • pay to get them done, I need those nice ass acrylics 68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print? • sheer print. heh. 69. Do you have any stickers on your car? • if I had a car, I'd have a shit load of stickers 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne? • Luke Bryan makes me want to claw my ears off, so lil Wayne it is 71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone? • iPhone. Always. 72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut? • ew. 73. Do you like diet soda? • I don't like soda in general. except for sprite when my tummy hurts. 74. What color are the walls in your room? • boring and white 75. Are you 16 or older? • turned 18 a month ago, boyyyy 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars? • I used to, now I think it's been carried out for too long so it bores me. 77. Do you have a job? • I got 2 78. What are your initials? • S.A.B. 79. Did you ever have braces? • yes, and I might need them again because my teeth hate me 80. Are you from the south? • nahh, Texans are hot as fuck though 81. What does your last status on facebook say? • it's a picture of the curly haired kid from Stranger Things pointing to a number on the wall that says "11" and the text above it says " on a scale of 1 to 10, how stressed out are you?" 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed? • noooo, I don't even think he's alive. sadly 83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad? • I was closer to my mom. Lately, I've been feeling like I'm drifting away from both of them. 84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics? • I did gymnastics for 3 years when I was little 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters? • split 86. Do you smoke? • not cigarettes but hella weed 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? • depends on the occasion because I look good in both 88. Is your phone touch screen? • nah, this iPhone is from 1999. it has a keyboard hooked into it 89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly? • since its growing out right now, the only way it looks good is if it's curly 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house? • too many times to count 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool? • all of the above 92. Have you ever made out in a car? • yes 93. …Had sex in a car? • nah, but I've given sloppy dick kisses multiple times in a car 94. Are you single or in a relationship? • been single since 1999 95. What were you doing last night at midnight? • fast the fuck asleep 96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks? • New Year's Eve 97. Do you like the camera on your phone? • it's not the bestest of the best. but it does its job 98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits? • yep. it never ends well and I end up losing that friend :( 99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? • ugh. yes. I hate it 100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate? • no. they're probably blocked 101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? • yeah, when I was 14. not good. I know 102. Name your favorite Kesha song: • sleazy. my go to song when I was 13. lmao 103. Do you have any tan lines right now? • yesssss and imma get more today 104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? • I'd wear heels or doc martens with shorts. word.

[deruste]

Chapter 4 Nexum

My senses are nearly dead as I slowly try to open my eyes but I feel overpowered by a feeling of pain. “Get up you filthy excuse of an augur!” A familiar demeaning voice cried. After finally managing to open my eyes all I notice what was on top of the old residents.

“Aaaaaaah” I shake off the frail bones of my body and rub the parts that were nearly pierced by them. I start to look around me and saw that I was in a large room of some sort made of stacked bricks. I take a look around me to make sure the voice I heard was really there. I saw that there was a lizard-like being shackled to the walls with black scales and a triangle-like head and clawed hands that seemed to be trimmed to the numb, Raffite. Right next to him was another being that was covered in red scales, helmet-like head and sharp tusks emanating from both sides. That would be that rookie Typhon making three of us here but where is Kuren; I swore I heard his voice a second ago. I move parts of my body to see if any of them are broken. My four arms to be fine, aching but fine. My wings feel contorted but functioning and one of my antennas seems to be missing.

“Good, you woke up Nexum. Please use some sort of awakening spell on those moronic lizards.” The voice called again. I was not mistaken, that was Kuren’s voice. I would recognize that condescending tone like the smell of death in a burial ground, pungent and constant when around it. I looked all around but no matter where I look in the stone room there was nothing but bones and old rotten food.

“I’m over at this corner you rotten cockroach.” I turned to the farthest corner that was in the room and saw an old dull wrought iron sword collecting dust. There was a bright glowing crystal that was embedded into the hilt of the sword.

“Don’t tell me they bounded your soul into that worthless piece of iron.”

“Do you have to be so blunt? How was I supposed to know that the doppelganger had a sword that can trap souls? Just get those other bastards to wake up; we need to figure out a way out of here.” Is there any time that he isn’t an asshole?

“Wait you were sealed into a sword why didn’t they lock you in an armory? Why lock you with the rest of us?”

“How in the in the name of Azria should I know? I kept quiet for the whole time and one of the guards for some reason set me in the corner while you were out of it. Oh yeah, you also have been out for nearly a day and a half.” the feeling of pin and needles in my joint confirmed what he said.

“Well, how did the rest of the fight go?” I was knocked out half way into it I want to know the details. He started to tell me how he was stabbed and sucked into the sword and who were are assailants.

“Wait a wolf man and a 3ft green man took us all out, forget to get out of with our lives how we are gonna get out with our dignity intact.” A thought started to go through my head in that moment. “So Duran is with them or do they also have them in a cell?

“Oh yeah the lifeless statue, when I get out of here I’m going to turn him into a pile of lifeless rocks. The fool was talking with them allot so we can assume the worst.” I don’t doubt he would do that but there is still the problem of being stuck in a cell with no way out.

“Wait why wasn’t I shackled to the wall?

“Properly thought you were dead, that or they thought you were an animal or a pet either way one of the guards tried to pet you on the neck. That could have been an attempt to wring your neck but he was singing while he tried to do it or what I thought was singing at least. I don’t know what any of these guards are saying its all gibberish to me.” I steadied the sword and started to draw a circle and markings on the dirt floor. “May I ask what are you doing?”

“I’m going to heal the lizards so we can think of a way out of this place beside damned if I’m going to spend any more prolonged time with just you.” The circle was complete and after etching out some symbols on the outside of it I plunge the sword into the center of it.

“What are doing with me? The sword started to glow burning red again right in the center of the circle. It glowing so intensely I thought the crystal in the hilt was going to melt the metal.

“Killing two birds with one fireball. The spell will require more energy that I can muster now so if I put you in the middle while you’re in that sword. It can suck out the magic that is keeping you in there.”

“Finally something good came out of those mouth mandibles of yours.” The spell circle was glowing bright yellow and seemed to cool down the sword draining energy from it. But the circle started to stop glowing and started to smoke. “WHAT DID YOU DO NOW?

“Something is interfering with my magic. It stopped the spell from working and trust in unhappy about as you are.” I started to hover over Raffite and put my hand over his head, maybe if use a weaker spell it won’t be negated. “Medicam Manum!”

“You’re not very versed in arcane arts, are you? If anything this barrier is probably sucking up any magic that is used or other words it won’t work you, idiot.” Sadly the jerk was right my hands lit up like gold for a second till the light became nothing more than a golden dust on my hands. “O right before I forget to mention, YOUR FREKING NAKED YOU TWIT!”

“WHY DIDN’T TELL ME THAT EARLIER?”

“I was hoping for a cheap laugh before we all die. They're probably going to kill us for our espionage or even just because of the humans, either way, were just two handbags, three specimens for a museum and a cheap sword now. How can they have magic in all my spy work I never sensed anyone with magical ability’s.”

“Well if they were hiding from the humans they probably would have ways of hiding themselves in their sight.”

“But why with their potential they can wipe them out within a half season, Why defended such defenseless trite and on that matter wouldn’t revealing themselves be a better way defending them then?”

After pondering on that thought I got a good look around us to discern anyway out. There was a single steel door with two torches on both sides providing the only light in the cell while the rest was a simple stone dome like structure. Put in a little corner I spot a rough sack with patches on it.

“Hmp a proud augur degraded to wearing a burlap sack; maybe the gods are punishing you for past transgressions.”

“Well if something is blocking are magic ill probably have to ask for their help.”

“Well get on with it we don’t exactly have all day debate whether we have a choice in the matter.” As I draw the next circle for a ritual I try to think of which god to call upon.

“Kirina or Bolnor, Fornet?”

“Just call anyone, wait does we have anything for a tribute?”

“Unless a scrap of cloth counts as offerings no, let’s just hope they are generous and accept the bones of our predecessor.”

“And use the cloth to make some damn clothes for yours self.”

“Shut it, I need concentration!” I sat in the middle of the pentagram circle focusing my natural energies into my mind as I went through all the scripture I knew for the right one. The god of clarity no, the god of priests won’t worked. God of life, death, the elements maybe the god of history.  As I list all the gods I knew I start to hear something.

“Kalan sota tako vatnu zona fontak nullut” It’s gibberish but … it sounds familiar. It is like a memory buried deep in the deepest corners of my mind. Then it became…. how do humans describe it, “trippy”. A cluster of light began swirling around me dissolving my surroundings into what looked like a rooftop of a ruined building.

“Uhhhhh smells likes rotten fish rocked with corpses. Wait for corpse and fish on a building?” I turned my head and saw that the building seemed recently weathered a storm, a very strong storm at that if it can cause most of the other buildings split in half.  

“DRIVE THE MONGOLS BACK MEN, DON’T ALLOW THEM TO EVEN HOLD AN ICNH.”

“Wait… I know that excessive yelling anywhere.” I took steps towards the directions of the noise and to my astonishment, there was an entire army with it.

“LET THE BASTARDS DROWN OWN THEIR BLOOD, FOR THE GLORY OF SHINNU-YAH AND ALBADON!” I saw the man screaming the orders who was standing on floating stone disk with a flaming sword and shield at hand. Like Typhon, he was draconic but instead of having tusks at the sides of his face this one had horns that circled like a spiral coming outward from the sides of his head. He shared the bulky build though and sharp though teeth and used his bulk effectively while Typhon would always trip over himself. General Galron leader of the Shinnu-yah empire military and using it well from what I can see. The general forces have appeared to have had some ranks of human soldiers on the run, their defensive line has not been broken and I can see the human boom sticks projectiles only bounced off the army’s armor. “MAGES, FORWARD. LEAVE NO TRACE OF THEIR ASHES AND CAPTURE ANY CIVILIANS YOU FIND IN THE DARKEN CORNERS OF THIS CITY!” The battalion line began to have small openings with cloaked figures filling those gaps. The mages began to conjure orbs of purplish light and to chant in harmony.

“From deepest depths, we have slept, now our inborn right we recompense.” They then threw the orbs in the direction of the human army. It slowly swept through them, disintegration them one by one in blinding flashes of light.    

“Ha Ha, at this rate the humans will be defeated within the season.” just as the general started boasting a figure appeared behind him in an instant of swirling shadows.

“I have returned with news on the eastern front ser Galron and I have a directive from the council.”

“One second, Kalim. RELEASE THE HYDRAS!” The battlefield was filled with the definite roar of hydras roaming the field eating any stragglers or deserters. “What’s the message Kalim, what’s crammed in the council’s collective asses?”

“Tactfully put ser Galron, The council wants to tell you that the sprites are causing mayhem in all human territory’s and magical creatures are catching on to the humans sudden helplessness and are collectively carving out their own lands. Furthermore, the scouts have taken out some unneeded explosives from the silos.”

“And the order I’ve sent to allow the use of our siege units passed through the red tape?”

“Though the council feels that it is unneeded tough given the situation they have allowed your order to quicken the war effort. But it will take a week for them to be usable they did, however, send augurs to the eastern front.” As I listened in on their conversation I took a good look at the messenger. The messenger was one of my kind, a Kaleck being plainly oblivious from his incest physique and wings coming out of the back of his clothes. His clothes on that train of thought were leather-based in lined with red metal with trench coat-like flaps and hood concealing his face.

“At least they take that advice with great speed. Tell the council the invasion is going as planned we even found some spies that were stupid enough to try and bug our camp.”

“You’re not a concern that there were spies in your camp in the first place?”

“Not if they fail so miserably like them besides our armies will wash over this region before they can cause some damage.” BOOM a vortex began swirling somewhere of the horizon with winds that tore through a town, picking up houses and throwing them into the opposite direction of the shinnu-yah army. “I’m going to take a wild guess that would be our allies, kalim?”

“Correct sir I have other business to attend to but the council does have a matter to delegate to you.” I felt something pull my body away from them against my will.

“No, I don’t want to go yet I want to know the rest of it. Listen to me there is a force that poses trouble by all the gods listen to my warnings.” But they just stood their voices getting fainter and fainter as I’m pulled towards the ground. I should probably be more worried about where I’m being pulled towards if I didn’t already know the intent. When I first became an auger we were told the gods pulled the souls of their faithful towards their realm of providence. The fact I’m being brought to the earth should mean that the god of the underworld is trying to tell me something.

“Nexum?” Kuren voice suddenly was audible.  

“No, not now.” I need to know which god is pulling me under.

“Nexum get up now!”

“haw haw.”I was in the prison again, feeling intense exhaustion from the experience. “Why did you take me out of my trance…?” I saw a large furry figure hold Kuren from the handle.

“Rusemay.” A bluish eye appeared above me and my head started to ache and felt as though was pouring water into my exoskeleton. “Get up; it’s your turn to be questioned. Ki rai.” Golden shackles appeared on my arms and were linked to a chain grip in the jailor’s hand. He brought the sword to his snout and glared at it. “Who brought you out of the armory?”

“Wait don’t-“He sheathed the sword and yanked the chain grip.

“Try to attack anyone and I cut your head off.” I happily obliged and followed him the newly made opening in the prison. The light nearly burned my retinas and as I adjusted I saw that I was in a long hall with many doors. I looked at me and saw that the opening was gone now the large crevice now filled with dark tiles. “Go in here.” He opened a door and pushed me inside as I heard the sounds of many locks being closed.

“Guess their treating you well enough. How have you been?” A familiar tune fills my lone antennae, Him.

“Guess the snake makes himself know. How have you been Duran?”

“Pretty well enough, it’s comforting sided with my conscience than blind patriotism.” He was seated on a chair on the other end of a translucent table. The room was extremely bright and completely white spare one window tinted gray. He has the gall to interrogate me and on the crime of serving my country.

“You betrayed your nation for filthy monkeys!” He hasn’t seemed to change physically at least, he had the same symmetrical head with vacant eyes with two circles around them staring down at me.

“You fail to see what you call monkeys as actual people and now that train of thought causing the deaths of many people, who have about as much to offer us as we to them.”

“I saw how they were in Europe; a dying society waiting to bend over and take its final breath. I saw anarchy on the streets. The people rioting in all out gang war fair. They are not capable of staining themselves or living peacefully but they might under our rule. ” I turned a wandering eye to the dark window; if I focused hard enough I heard voices from the other side of it. A younger feminine and an older male one but neither sounded familiar except…

“And you think we can bring order to it? We probably end up destroying them before getting the chance to or we will just end up enslaving them.” Oh great, he’s going to talk down to me as if I was a child missing the obvious. I pulled my attention from the window and refocused on Duran  

“Do you truly know their history Duran; we are being no crueler than they were treating each other.”

“Does that excuse what is being done?” I admit I didn’t know much about Duran before we were deployed as spies, Raffite was the only reason I knew his name. A friend of a friend so to speak but I do remember him saying he can be a pompous fool but he said the same thing about Typhon. So why it was that Duran made the switch?

“Why this then, why they send you to interrogate. If they had any intelligence they would have known it wouldn’t work with you. You haven’t cut your ties enough so you have to say it to our faces.”  His started to fidget a bit as his emotionless face faced his clasped hands.

“They can give amnesty if you formally surrender to the legion and ….” He said with unnerving speed as if he lingered on any syllable he would be killed. The tone of his voice sounded like even he only half believe it.

“And?” He kept his gaze towards his clasped hands as the question hung in the air, putrefying it more and more the longer it was left unanswered.

“If you indenture yourself to your victims.”

“WHAT, I indenture to those pathetic creatures.”

“For a period of ten years, it’s either that or the headsmen’s ax.” I don’t respond at first and he just stopped there looking at his palms, so this is the justice the monkey’s allies give. “I’m told it’s an old way for traitors to work out their crimes. I’ve given you a way out so you can see the humans as I have seen them.” A spark starts to permeate my mind.

“If it’s my only option outside of my head being lopped off in a basket, I begrudgingly accept the offer.” He raised his head in response to this.

“Good now I only need to convince Typhon and Raffite.” He appeared to have forgotten Kuren, not so unexpected if he wasn’t so powerful he probably the one pushed into a fight as a glowing training dummy. I’m not looking forward to doing the bidding of a bunch of pubescent apes but it’s preferable to death. Though there is the opportunity in time. All I have to do is waiting till there’s a chance of escape available to me. Maybe I’ll bring ahead of whatever human I’m stuck with as a souvenir. “Sad to say you have to stay in your jail cell for the night. Get some rest while you can, one of the humans has been compiling a list of chores for you specifically.”

“Well then, it will be quite a disappointing sight for that human. I’m sub par at menial labor.” I heard the door behind me open and saw that the wolf again showing a look of revolt towards us, trouble in paradise I see. “Oh, Duran. Don’t expect to regain some respect with them just because you got them away from a woven basket heads. You just simply gave them a choice to become a slave to a monkey, but you would know all about that would you now. What did they bribe you with? Power? Secrets? Influence?”

“They asked. They asked after I gave my vow to offer information about Shinnu-yah after I FOUND OUT THAT OUR ARMY IS HAVING THE MAGES LEARN NULL MAGIC!”

“WHAT!” Null magic, it can’t be.

“That is why I left, that is why I’m helping the monkeys you mock. How is that for a mental image of the empire that was going to spread its marvelous influence? I found it out trough another scout and I killed that scout before he could tell anyone about my betrayal. I’ll tell you more in the morning; you won’t be able to sleep if you learn every dirty secret that scout spilled before I rung his neck.” He simulated his actions with his hands squeezing at the air in front of him in a shaking motion.

          “Back to your cell you gnat.” The wolf conjured the chain and yanked me from the neck again.

          “Isn’t this a little unnecessary?”

          “You haven’t seen the refugees, jumping at buzzing of every insect.” Guess they survived a battalion of Kalecks.

          “They have a right to be scared. My gods smiled on me and showed me a vision of the humans of being annihilated at their western front.”

          “Shut up or I’ll say screw the politics and kill you right here and now.” He raised his hand against a wall and it began to glow bluish. The wall shifted into a round entry. He pushed me and the opening changed into a regular wall. “And take your useless friend with you.” The sound of clanking metal fills the room and is going to be accompanied by Kuren’s voice, oh joy.

          “Well, that went well.”

          “The sarcasm is getting worse and worse, you know that right.”

          “You deserve it more than ever now. You gave yourself to slavery.”

          “I’m no good to the empire if I’m dead, besides don’t you think I can out Witt a human whelp.”

          “Shut your traps you two!” Oh, the joy they woke up. I saw Raffite and Typhon Unshackled, sitting on the floor dress in some spare rags inspecting the spell circle I drew.

          “The Abyss happened Nexum where are we?” Glad to know Typhon retails glibness no matter how many times he gets battered on the head.

          “It’s nice to see that you’re awake too Typhon and Raffite … we have been captured and the only way out of not getting our heads chop off is indentured service. Ser.”

          “At least you keep things interesting Nexum. Let me guess, Duran betrayed us and sold us.”

          “That’s the gist of it. He either going to have us killed by way of executioner or servitude to those …Humans.”

          “Damn it, we have no other option then. We will just have to outsmart them then maybe mislead them into security then bam we are free and find a safe spot to hide till things cool over on the front.”

          “Why not just go to the military, why hide at all.” How and why Typhon got involved into to espionage is beyond me. His kind is a people that always manage as being the bulk of infantry, so why any of them having an interest in obtaining information through subtle maneuvering is an anomaly on its own. Not to even mentioning his incompetence.

          “Because we would be executed for incompetence and probably have our corpses hung over on a crucifix for just being captured. We might even just be killed on sight just for appearing on suspicious terms.” Raffite gave a disapproving look.

          “Bottom line, we survive and if get the chance we triumph against our captures and travel towards the rest of the troops.” I prompt up Kuren so he can better join the discussion.

          “And resign ourselves to servitude? What got into you?”

          “I’m thinking for all your sakes. We are of more use alive than dead beside do you know how to get out of that blade?” Kuren went silent, I hate to admit it but he is right. If just stay alive we can probably just outlived the humans, there bound to slip up at some point. “So Nexum this circle you drew, did it yield results or have your prayer fell on death ears,” I told him about my vision putting as much detail I could about the battle. “Good General Galron should be able to push the humans to the edge. These creatures appear to have vested interest in the humans, as soon as the humans reach a breaking point they will have to divide their forces to help them. The humans get scared and that’s how we get out.”

          “Oh, I got to listen to your diabolical side. That sounds adorable.” I see Kuren has his priorities straight.

          “We appeal to their troubled heart strings and maybe try to get them near the front somehow, maybe some false hope about their families. We then help them for the time being. Then their head becomes divorced from their necks with us heading toward the Infantry with whatever info we can gather while we’re stuck here.”

          “Sounds like good enough plans we just have to put in a good performance then.”

          “Nexum what did Duran say to you other Than the deal. You seemed troubled.” Can’t seem to hide anything from him. I told him about Duran accusation about the null magic.

          “HE CLAIMED WHAT.”

          “He can’t expect us to believe this without prove.”

          “You didn’t know? The council contacted me that several mages were receiving training into null magic. Even tried to get me enlisted into the new ranks” All our eyes were on Kuren but not for pity for his current state this time.

          “I will melt you down and sell you as a back scratcher.” Wow, he actually got Typhon to sound threatening, weird day.

          “I’m inclined to agree with that statement but no Typhon. If we don’t have our unity we at the same level as humans, no matter how I want to use Kuren as tooth-pick.” Null magic, it is as sadistic as magic can be. Makes the victim lose all traces of what makes them sentient gone. And that is if they aren’t used as living bombs or carriers for the vicious disease. “Get some rest all of you. We have long days ahead of us and if they call on you for Duran’s talk. Just comply even if you want to crush the bastard.” We all turn away from each other into the corners of the prison. I try to get myself comfortable in my even though it smells like piss but compared to some bars I passed out in, it’s doable.

          “This makes you no better than Duran, you know that right.”

          “Difference being that I didn’t betray council and country for lesser beings. Now get to sleep.” When I get free from the humans I will turn Duran into ash.

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #19)

(cw: vomiting, references to drugs) ----------

01/06/88   10:31 PM

Hey.

I’d thought that willingly bunking with Fix-it was weird. I had no idea.

You know pretty well my relationship to Wreck-it, but that’s not saying much. Anyone who sees us interacting basically knows the deal. There’s just not much more than the obvious. He’s huge, he’s dumb, and he’s got a temper shorter than a Nicelander’s arm, so, yeah, he’s my game’s resident prank and pestering dumping ground, fittingly enough. And, on the flipside, I’m small, I’m slick, I’m dang near impossible to catch when you’re that big and clumsy, and even when he does, and he throws me across the freakin’ map, I enjoy it. I’d wanna smash my face into the bricks, too, if I were him.

It felt a little close to insanity, then, thinking of welcoming myself to sleep on those bricks. I had basically nothing in my favor, other than the fact that we’ve never had a… y’know, serious fight, and very occasionally we’ll call a truce and rant about Fix-it over some root beers. Not much, but it had to count for something, right?

In any case, the arcade closed like any night. I was leaning back against my little lumpy brick knoll and idly plucking at my guitar by the time I heard those big elephant feet clomping on the bricks. I braced myself. Good or bad, it’d be uncomfortable.

“Alright, y’little guttersnipe, what did you leave me this time?”

He seemed to be talking more to himself than me. I guess he thought I’d left. Fair assumption -- why would I have stayed?

“Still here, trash gorilla.”

“What the--!?”

Stomp, stomp, stomp. He stood next to me, stance primed to smash if provoked. I didn’t bother looking up.

He barked, “You!”

“Me.”

“You wanna tell me what you’re doing in my home?”

He certainly didn’t sound happy, but I heard way more apprehension in his voice than anger. He obviously hadn’t forgotten what he’d seen on Niceland’s doorstep the night before. Remembering the look on his face just made me wish even more dearly that I had anywhere else to go. 

I paid more attention to my guitar than him, hoping he would give up prematurely. “No, not really.”

“Oh, well, in that case, sure, just hunker down and make yourself a little nest without even kind of asking me.”

“Wayyy ahead of ya.”

Buttons easily pressed, he growled, “You got until the count of five to tell me what you’re up to, before I bowl you right down into the river, got it?”

“Sure you can count that high, monkey man?”

“Y’know what, let’s make it THREE. One…”

I rubbed my forehead, sporting a vicious withdrawal headache. I’d been brainstorming all day on excuses to throw at him, but always came up short. How do I explain away willingly staying in a dump with Wreck-it?

“Two…”

I finally looked up at him, with the sharpest glare I had. “I had nowhere else to go, okay! Happy now?!”

Wreck-it wavered for a second, like I’d thrown a ball at his head. He squinted, suspicious. “Wait. What do you mean? You’ve got plenty of places to go! I mean, Felix would obviously love to put you up, and--” he slowed, bogged down with memory, “--well… I guess you… were kinda screaming and smashing stuff up there this morning, so... maybe you’re… still mad at him or… something…”

He scratched his head. “Okay, maybe not Felix. But you’ve got your own place. That forest still looks pretty intact to me, sister.”

I went back to staring at my guitar. “I can’t stay there right now.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

He went quiet for a minute. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his fist relax a bit and rap gently against his leg. When he spoke again, his voice was a bit lower, but still reluctant.

He said, “You’re trouble, you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Everyone’s talkin’ like you’re big trouble. Like you could be dangerous.”

“What do you think?”

He paused. “...I’unno. I’m trying to stay out of it. It all sounds like a really… y’know, delicate matter, and... that’s not exactly my thing.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about a neutral party. Part of me grimaced at the inevitability of him taking the majority’s side eventually, and part of me felt… safer, I guess. Like this guy wanted to go on pretending everything would just work itself out if he ignored it, so he’d be less likely to get up in my business. I had a glimmer of hope that we could both pretend nothing was wrong, moving forward.

I fiddled with my guitar some more. “Well… that’s probably for the best, huh.”

“But,” he growled, “you’re making it real hard to stay out of it, coming here. I just know you’re gonna get me wrapped up in this stuff, somehow. I oughtta throw you out on your keister before you get the chance.”

Looking up at him again, I asked, “Are you going to?”

His brow furrowed and his lips pressed together. He looked me up and down contemplatively, lingering in odd places. I got the impression that he was remembering the sight of me torn to ribbons. And then his eyes plainly fell to my neck. Suddenly, he looked as if he’d just read the saddest sentence of his life. Up until that point, he hadn’t noticed that I was wearing things that had belonged to you, that much was clear.

I felt the way most sprites must feel when they’re seen naked. I wanted to bury myself under the bricks.

“Gnah,” he grunted and threw his hand. “Look, if we’re really doing this, we need to lay down some ground rules. And these are real rules, not cute little make-being-bad-more-fun-for-Mavis rules. Agreed?”

“But I love those. The second kind.”

“Agreed?”

“Yes,” I leaned my head back, “obviously agreed. List your terms.”

“Okay. Rule number one -- no screaming. Everything that happened this morning? Don’t do that.”

“Noted.”

“Rule number two -- no name-calling, and-- and no no no, you look at me, right here,” he snapped his massive fingers, “when I’m telling you these, okay? Remember these -- y’know what, go ahead and write these down, while we’re at it. Take notes. Never can tell with you what you’re gonna conveniently forget. Go on, get your book out.”

Could have been worse demands, but I was still literally sick and tired, and not in the mood. I just blew a raspberry at the sky.

“Mavis.”

I blew a harder raspberry.

“Gh, you little--” my entire bag smacked me in the face, and not gently. “Don’t test me, kid. Start writing or you’re outta here.”

With a mighty groan, I did what I was told, and took down greatly paraphrased notes as he continued.

“As I was saying, rule number two,” he started counting off his fingers, “no name calling. You can’t be in my home and call me ‘trash gorilla’ or ‘homo erectus’ all the time. Leave the mean names at the door. ...Y’know, the metaphorical door.”

I raised my hand. “Question.”

“What?”

“Can I get them all out now, so they don’t slip out later?”

“Wh-- No.”

“Dang.”

“Okay, rule number three -- this is a big one. I don’t wanna wake up with anything written on me, or painted on me, or in my shirt, or stuck to my hair, or shoved in my nose, and -- y’know what, let’s just go ahead and make that, ‘Leave Ralph alone while he’s sleeping.’ I don’t turn into a toy when I close my eyes, got it?”

“Fine.”

“Rule number four -- same as rule number three, but about my stump. The stump is off limits. Don’t even sit on it. It’s not there for you.”

“Weird, but okay.”

“Rule number five -- whatever drama belongs in there,” he pointed at Niceland, “does not belong here. Okay? Don’t chuck bricks at windows or antagonize the Nicelanders or scream at Felix, none of that. They see you doing that from here, while I’m around, they’ll think I’m with you on it, you know? They’re all already not big fans of me, so don’t make that any worse.”

“Sure.”

“Uh, rule number six -- anyone throws garbage in here with food in it, that’s mine. You go get your own food.”

“Sheesh, gimme some credit. I got some standards on what kind of garbage I put in my body.”

He glared. “Just stay away from mine, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I wrote it down.

“Number seven… you know, just don’t steal anything in general, food or otherwise. No sticky fingers.”

“What the cuss is there to steal, numbnuts? There’s nothing here but bricks and broken structures, and like, maybe a pie tin or two--”

“Ap, ap, ap!” He pointed at me. “Numbnuts? That’s name calling!”

Rule number two was gonna be harder than I thought. There are just too many names to call him, and you know I hate to waste names. “Okay, okay. Paws off, I get it. Anything else, highness?”

Wreck-it squinted at me, and I wondered if he was trying to decide if ‘highness’ counted as name calling. Apparently, it didn’t. But then he started looking around the expanse of bricks, obviously trying to think like me, and find any opportunities for mischief. 

“Number eight,” he continued, “don’t, uh… paint any of my bricks.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“...Why?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because I said so?”

“Okay, you’re really reaching, now, Wreck-it. I think you’re just about out of rules. You’ve also only got two fingers left to go,” I pointed at his eight counted fingers. “Which is, coincidentally, what she said.”

His face screwed up. “Eugh, Devs, okay, y’know what? Rule number nine -- no dirty jokes.”

“Seriously? You’re fine with Tapper’s dirty jokes!”

“Yeah, ‘cus his are nowhere near as dirty as yours! It’s GROSS, Mavis! And, just, ugh,” he pushed his hair back, pointedly looking away, “hearing how much dirty stuff you actually know about just… gives me the willies.”

“That’s what she--” the strain was nearly physical. “You’re gonna make this very hard for me. That’s what-- Ugh,” I pinched my brow, “I’m making this very hard for-- That’s-- GAHH--!!”

I threw my hat.

“Watch it,” he warned me. “Remember rule number one!”

“How can you be so squeamish!? You live and breathe GARBAGE!”

“NO DIRTY JOKES!” He pointed at me like I was a dog, continuing the trend of my cabinet-mates treating me like an animal. “THAT’S FINAL!”

“FINE! GEEZ! I’ll keep it suitable for all ages, including nine-foot-tall babies--”

“That’s name calling!”

I broke rule number one. But, to be fair, it was more of a furious shout to the stars than a scream. 

“FOR THE LOVE OF LITWAK, WHAT’S RULE NUMBER TEN!?”

“EASY, kid! This is the last one, so listen up! Rule number ten…” he had his hands on his hips, assessing me in an odd way. He was silent just a moment longer than I’d have liked, but when he spoke again, his tone was much more serious.

“Look,” he said, “I dunno what you’ve got on you, or got back in your little hideout, but I don’t want you bringing any booze or buffs here. I can’t control what you do out there, but while you’re on my bricks… you’re sober. Got it?”

I wanted to say no. My first instinct was to call it all off. The withdrawal was only flooding higher above my head with every passing hour, and the thought of being denied my release stirred up defiance in me that bordered on violent. He had no idea how useful buffs were to me. He had no idea how painfully and desperately I wanted one, just one.

But after that split-second passed, I realized there was no use getting upset. It wasn’t like I had any booze or buffs or even the capacity to get any. That would involve leaving the game, which… I wasn’t ready to think about. Besides, like I said before, the withdrawal really, really sucked. But I recognized it for what it was, and knew it would pass on its own. Hardly my first rodeo. 

The verbal reminder of how badly I wanted a buff, however, really brought back the emphasis on how bad the withdrawals were getting. Chills hit me like, well, a ton of bricks. My stomach churned and I made a grab for the bucket I’d brought with me.

“Okay,” I nodded, breathing heavy into the bucket. “Sober. Got it.”

For a second, Wreck-it seemed a mix of confused and concerned. “Are you--”

I retched. Hard.

“GEEZ LOUISE!!” His voice went way higher than natural, and I heard his feet stamp away behind me as he cried out to the Devs. Nine-foot-tall baby. From the other side of his stump, he called, “You didn’t tell me you were sick!”

“Didn’t come up ‘til now,” I didn’t have the strength to appreciate my own accidental joke. I called back, mostly into the bucket, “Don’t freak out, I don’t have a virus or anything. And don’t you dare try to make a rule about this, ‘cuz believe it or not, I ain’t doing this for fun.”

“I know that,” I could hear the eye-roll. “I’m not stupid. It just would have been nice to know what I was in for before I decided to let you stay here.”

“Well,” I was panting by that point, and the sweat was making a real comeback, “now you know. Your guest is sick. But she’ll get over it in a few days, and she’s gotten real good at silent puking.”

“...A few days, huh.”

The pounding of his fists against the brick scared the bits out of me -- just a thing he does before settling down, like a dog turning in a circle. After I heard him lie down, he asked in a tired, but not quite annoyed tone, “So… just how long are you assuming I’ll put up with you?”

I spat. “I… can’t say right now, I don’t think. But I don’t like this any more than you do. It won’t go on a second longer than it has to.”

He grunted. “If you say so, I guess.”

The conversation ended there, for a bit. I spent a while teetering right on the edge of puking, until I backed away from that edge enough to head to the river and rinse out the bucket. Since I’d started shaking so bad, climbing back up the bricks took way longer than it should have. It made me miss flying so much. Everything did.

Once I got back, I did my absolute best to arrange my nest of pillows in a comfortable way, but you can only do so much on a pile of bricks. I could feel their corners jabbing up at me no matter what. All the same, I settled in. 

After maybe ten minutes, I said, “Hey, Wreck-it.”

He grunted again.

“I’ve got some rules, too.”

“No you don’t. This is a favor I’m doing for you, in my home. You don’t get to make rules.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “Do I get to make polite requests?”

“I dunno. Are they ‘for-real’ polite or ‘Mavis’ polite?”

“For-real.” I paused. “I think.”

“...Seems unlikely. But, I’m listening.”

“Request number one -- don’t talk to anyone about me being here.”

He hummed. “Easy enough.”

“Request number two -- don’t ask me about what happened last night. About how I ended up on that doorstep. I know you’ve been thinking about it. But I’m not going to talk about it, so don’t ask. Don’t ask anything.”

“Woah, okay, okay. I wasn’t… going to. I won’t. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Don’t try to talk to me about…” my sentence derailed. I didn’t want to say your name out loud again. Felt like it would hit me too hard. “...about the 7th.”

He was silent for a long time.

“That’s fine with me.”

“...Good.” I felt just about ready to delete from exhaustion, but had the distinct feeling that sleeping would be near impossible. I was just pulling up my blanket when Wreck-it piped up again.

“Rule number eleven--”

“No. No, you’re done with those. You can’t count on your toes, now.”

“Last one, for real this time,” he insisted. “Rule number eleven -- just… just keep your dang clothes on, will ya?”

I didn’t laugh.

It was a bizarre feeling. I knew it was funny, but my sense of humor felt like wet firewood. That little spark of laughter just wouldn’t catch.

“I’ll try,” I answered, “but I still plan on bathing.”

He grumbled, but made no further comment. That was it for the night. We went about our personal businesses of trying to sleep through the wrongness of it all. It took him a bit longer than I thought it would, probably because he wanted to sleep with one eye open, but eventually, his trumpeting snores started. They’ve never really bothered me before, but getting them point-blank is really an experience. Needless to say, they were far from a lullaby. 

Not that anything resembling a lullaby would have helped. The sleeping conditions there were even worse than Niceland. Trying to sleep out in the wide open is just unnerving to me. My little nest faced away from the entirety of the map, and the dump doesn’t extend into another forest at its far end. It just fades away into blackness, farther than we’re programmed to roam. The air is cold outside of tree cover, and the bricks even more so, but nothing felt colder than that sight.

You sure can see the stars from there, though. But, of course, it was one of those nights where that’s a bad thing.

On a good day, the stars make me think there are good things even in the darkest places. The black sky here looks like it could stretch on forever, like if you flipped our game upside down, we would all fall into it and never see light again. That really freaked me out for a long time, when I first surfaced. But the more I looked at the stars and how pretty they are, the more I thought, if the sky really did go on forever, then there could be even more beautiful things out there. Including a place better than this.

But I can’t get there. That’s the bad part. Sometimes, all the stars do is make me feel trapped. The place I really belong could be out there, but I’m just stuck in a glass box I can’t break.

Feeling tiny and alone beneath that both confining and possibly endless sky, I found myself inevitably thinking of you again. I didn’t have a couch to fool myself with anymore, or any walls to imagine closing in tighter, but… I did have your scarf.

It reeked of memories. Not of events, but emotions. Smelling it felt like inhaling pure, raw panic. It made my head spin and really aggravated my nausea, but, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, I just couldn’t put it down. I knew it was keeping me up, but I didn’t care.

As I lay there awake, feverish as hell, smelling a mix of smoke and gasoline that was so distinctly you, staring up at the stars, I just couldn’t stop thinking… did you do what I never could, and find a way to get past them?

If you did, where did you go?

If you did, how could I ever hope to find you?

If you did, why the hell did you leave me here alone?