#he crowed at 4 pm yesterday

[riverashes]

Thank you, neighbor's rooster that helpfully wakes me and only me at 1:34 PM

[impish-crow]

[TRANSLATION] AKANE BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION SHORT STORY(SS)🎉🎂

【7:30 AM】

I opened my eyes.

"Ugh, what's this? On a day like today, I could have slept a bit longer..."

As I mumbled my complaints, drowsiness quickly caught up, and I let out a big yawn. Today is December 6th, my birthday that comes once a year. Mashiro, anticipating this, showed up the day before with some alcohol, and we spent the night drinking while crossing over the date, engaging in pointless conversations. Though I intentionally avoided looking at the clock, it must have been close to dawn when I finally went to sleep. Despite being completely sleep-deprived, my eyes felt strangely alert, and I couldn't bring myself to go back to sleep.

(I guess oversleeping isn't a habit of mine.)

Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I changed into sportswear and headed to the gym within the apartment building.

【8:55 AM】

After breaking a sweat at the gym, taking a shower, and returning—it's almost nine o'clock. As I entered the living room, Kurono's voice greeted me.

"Good morning."

"Morning... huh?"

On the table, there was a neatly sliced shortcake and a cup of black coffee.

"Since it's Akane-san’s birthday today."

"Oh, right."

Suppressing a strange ticklish feeling, I took a seat at the table. After midnight, Mashiro enthusiastically cut the cake and we had it with champagne. This was the remaining portion.

"When did we start having cake for breakfast?"

"I believe... it was the year after I moved in."

"Ugh, I don't want to count."

Because it's my birthday, cake for breakfast is a tradition—originating from a childish whim I expressed long ago. It was decided that the morning after cutting the birthday cake, the leftovers become breakfast. It's easy to say I'm not a child anymore, but stopping something I've done every year since childhood feels somewhat nostalgic.

(Well, it's only once a year.)

With a big bite, I see Kurono squinting happily. This happens every year.

"I said it last night, but again. Happy birthday."

"Thanks... by the way, where's Mashiro?"

"The bastard is passed out in the guest room."

Kurono's expression slightly turns stern.

"How late were you two up?"

"Oh... I don't remember."

"I should've kicked him out before the date changed."

"Well, let's enjoy cake without saying that."

【11:30 AM】

After soothing Kurono and finishing breakfast, I tackled the accumulated trivial tasks—checking audio files and documents, making calls, organizing mail, and other miscellaneous chores. Just as I was contemplating taking a break and stretching, my phone conveniently rang. The name on the screen was Haiji.

"What's up, Haiji?"

"Akane-san, happy birthday!"

"Oh, thanks."

"Did you drink with Mashiro-san yesterday?"

He’s quick to catch on—I thought. But yeah, that's probably it. Knowing Mashiro, he most likely posted about it on social media.

"We had a few drinks with the stuff he brought."

"Oh, unfair. I told him I couldn't make it."

"Are you coming today?"

"Yes. I'll come by in the evening."

"Once the meeting's done, I'll let you know. I'll pick you up, so be ready."

"Thank you!"

【4:00 PM】

In the afternoon, I headed to DigPro. Accompanied by Iwahara manager, we greeted the promoter and discussed concepts for next year's live performance. The enthusiasm on the other side was unexpectedly high, leading to an unplanned lengthy conversation.

"Oh, by the way. I saw BLAST."

"The energy is incredible, right? Not just RUBIA Leopard, but Impish Crow too. DigPro's newcomers are doing great."

"DigPro, led by RUBIA Leopard, has everyone with fantastic momentum."

"This was my first time on the scene, and I was surprised by the number of men more than I thought."

"There was that CM for the instrumental-only album a while back. It sparked quite a discussion even among hardcore rock fans."

"Oh yeah! That was amazing too!"

"I think there'll be more instrumentals on the next album. Looking forward to it."

I nodded in gratitude, suppressing the urge to say, "Did you finally realize we're not just a face for tie-ins?" I couldn't say it, not even if my life depended on it.

(What's his deal, holding a grudge against me?)

I stifled a laugh that was about to burst.

"So, here's the thing. We're thinking of expanding the venue a bit more next time. We're confident about the audience turnout."

"Please, consider it positively."

I glanced at the manager with a smile before interjecting, "Regarding the size of the venue in relation to the fanbase, it's my request."

I wanted to avoid blindly enlarging the scale, risking the diminished sense of delivering songs to each individual. Letting the surrounding enthusiasm accelerate on its own, rolling into areas I couldn't perceive, and collapsing at the last minute—I didn't want that again.

(I won't make the same mistake as with RUBIA.)

Consciously and unconsciously, I had been thinking about that for the past three years.

"But, I think it's about time to take a step forward."

"Thank you for considering it," I said, bowing my head. Iwahara next to me let out a small sigh of relief. He, who had been aware of everything, might have been the most anxious over the past three years. Otherwise, I couldn't find a reason for him to present the song of Impish Crow at that particular moment.

"So, as a trade-off, I have a suggestion. We've been relatively low-key so far, separate from the tour, throwing a bit of a curveball might be interesting."

"Oh, that sounds good!"

"Please allow me to assist with that as well."

【6:50 PM】

Once the meeting concluded, Iwahara promptly gestured for me to follow him to the manager's office.

"What's up, Iwahara-san? Nagging me?"

"Do you have any idea why?"

"Too many, I can't keep track."

"Ugh... let's just get this over with."

"... Alcohol?"

"Happy birthday."

"Seriously?"

"Just say 'thank you.'"

"Thanks. But, a birthday present from you that doesn't fit your character?"

"You're sharp. This is a joint gift with my housemate."

"What a hassle. A pack of cigarettes would've sufficed."

"If I gave you a present that would harm your throat and health, Haiji would scold me."

"Is it okay for me to be drinking all night?"

"Haiji is going to your place today, right?"

"A set of chaperones and a present. I see.”

【7:05 PM】

After convincing Iwahara to take a break for a smoke, I contacted Haiji and got into the car. Haiji and Iwahara's apartment was just a stone's throw away from the office. We'd be there in about five minutes.

(Everywhere is already in full Christmas mode.)

Navigating through the main street, I parked the car in a random alley and took a moment to catch my breath. I wasn't particularly fond of December. The city was lively and festive, and it felt like I was the only one standing still.

(So, that's why the shortcake.)

When I was a child, I lacked the ability to bridge the gap between the bustling city and the quiet home. When I realized that our home and others were somehow different, the most I could do was express small whims. Kurono was the only one who indulged those whims.

(But, it was okay back then.)

As I grew taller, my desires grew too, and I had more capabilities. Music filled the gaps and spaces.

(Still, enjoying it just within the confines of home wasn't enough for me.)

As my thoughts wandered off, the phone suddenly rang.

"Akaneeeee! Happy birthday, my little brother!!!"

The volume on the speaker seemed ten times louder than usual, and my brother, Mikado, continued.

"You must be happy, right? Of course! And why am I calling at this hour? Because, my dear brother, I'm in New York right now!"

"Oh, really?"

"Mikado, you have to go running soon or you’ll be late for the morning meeting."

"Oh, right, Kaede. Well then, I'm going for a run in Central Park! Kaede, I'm counting on you! That's all!"

As I was about to hang up, Kaede's voice came through the speaker.

"Wait, Akane."

"What?"

"Did you have cake this morning?"

"...Yeah, I did."

"I see. My breakfast was shortcake too. Well then, take care of Sora for me."

He said what he wanted to say and hung up. Immediately after, a message arrived—it was from our parents.

"A-chan, happy birthday. We'll send you something surprising again this year. From Mom and Dad."

"No, don't send anything."

I couldn't help but speak aloud.

(Man, my family, seriously, none of them have any sense of delicacy.)

Yet, their eagerness to make me happy came across 120%. It was quite annoying. But if I twisted about it, I'd just be a fool. I convinced myself of that, and it saw me through the sensitive teenage years. Or so it feels.

(Really.)

Throughout my life, there have been various thoughts. I've been hurt in trivial matters, but they never turned into significant pain or obstacles to moving forward because I've been incredibly fortunate. Now and then.

【7:10 PM】

"Akane-san."

The sound of tapping on the side window accompanied the call of my name. I hurriedly opened the door.

"Haiji, sorry. I was lost in thought and didn't notice."

"No, not at all. I just arrived!"

【7:30 PM】

I set off in the car with Haiji. By now, Kurono would probably be preparing some extravagant meal. While hurrying home, I received a call from Mashiro.

"Good morning, both of you."

"Huh, Mashiro-san, were you sleeping until now?"

"More importantly, where are you now?"

"I'll be home in about five minutes."

"Then, is it not snowing there?"

"Snow?"

"Oh, right!"

Haiji joyfully pointed to the sky. Snow in Tokyo at this time of year would likely stop in no time.

"I haven't seen snow in a while."

"This is such a rare sight for Tokyo in this season; it'll probably stop soon."

On my birthday this year, the events that unfolded, and the snowfall at this moment. I'm sure I'll never forget this different day.

[sakurachan7734]

Love in my dreams and In real life to

Chapter 4: park date

Saturday at 3:12 pm

Zachary: so why can’t we go on Sunday? It would’ve been less crowded.

Aristotle: definitely but I have church tomorrow

Zachary: ah ok

Aristotle: but what did you want to do here?

Zachary: just walk around and get to know each other more 

Aristotle: ok

Zachary: so do you have any other family members besides your sister and dads?

Aristotle: well apparently I do because my father said that in to months my extended family and grandparents are coming over you?

Zachary: nice! All I have is my grandmother and sister my mother died during the birth of my sister and my dad died in a car crash a year later

Aristotle: oh I’m sorry to hear that

Zachary: it’s fine it was when I was 11

Aristotle: ok do you want to come over to my house after this?

Zachary: your dads will be ok?

Aristotle: they won’t home until 11

Zachary:* blushing* will we be home alone or will your sister be with us? 

Aristotle: we will be home alone

Zachary: what are we going to do?

Aristotle: watch TV probably

Zachary: what kind of shows? 

Aristotle: something funny and get your mind out the gutter I could see the look on your face

Zachary: sorry sorry

Aristotle and Zachary go to Aristotle house and Zachary sits down in the living room looking around the room admiring the victorian Gothic style The entire castle is well Aristotle was in the kitchen getting some tea

Zachary: you have a very nice house 

Aristotle:* places a tea tea down* thank you my dads put a lot of effort trying to make it look perfect

Zachary: I can tell

Aristotle: why don’t you have some tea while I go get changed

Zachary: ok

Aristotle pov

I head upstairs to change out of my dress, pants and my boots into some comfy shorts and baggy T-shirt and I was correct this is the boy I saw in my dreams and he is exactly what I saw if not better then when he was my dreams i know it’s weird changing clothes while somebody is here but that my dress my pants and my knee-high boots get really uncomfortable after a couple hours

A few minutes later Aristotle comes back downstairs and sits next to Zachary

Zachary:* chuckles* I thought you were joking when you said that you had bird feet and hands

Aristotle: nope I wasn’t! My father said that his side of the family are a special species of animal where they are half human half animal my fathers parents are part crow

Zachary: ok I thought you couldn’t take the mask off?

Aristotle: oh I can because while we were in Florida, I cut my own mask off 

Zachary: how did you do that?

Aristotle: oh I pored rubbing alcohol over my face stole my father scalp and cut it all off

Zachary: Jesus dude are you OK?

Aristotle: yea my father bandaged up my face a minute he got home and kicked down the bathroom door

Zachary: oh good thing you’re OK

Aristotle:* leans against Zachary* I know I’m surprised I’m alive

Zachary: yea anyway you look nice

Aristotle: thanks sorry if I was gone for too long it takes forever to take my dress and makeup off

Zachary: no it’s fine

Zachary and Aristotle sat together and watched some tv until Aristotles parents came home and they snuck upstairs to Aristotles bedroom

Zachary: wow you’re room is amazing

Aristotle: thanks* sits down on their bed*

Zachary: is your bed comfortable? 

Aristotle: yea it is you can sit down if you want

Zachary: ok why do you have human biology posters all over your wall? 

Aristotle: oh it’s something I do in my spare time

Zachary: what do you mean?

Aristotle: well do you remember yesterday that I brought a dead fog back to life? Well my father taught me how to do that!

Zachary: oh that that’s impressive

Aristotle: I know right

Florence:* from downstairs* ARISTOTLE I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU INVITED SOMEONE OVER WHEN WE TOLD YOU NOT TO!!!

Aristotle: you should probably go

Zachary: ok

Zachary climbs out through a window and starts running to his apartment 

Zoe: so how was your date?

Zachary: don’t call it a date we just want to the park and hanged out at their house

Zoe: how was it like inside that castle? 

Zachary: it was really pretty I didn’t for the entire castle maybe next to go over I can look around 

The next day at Jackson cabin 

Jackson: soo what happened yesterday?

Zachary: nothing special we just hanged out at the park in their house but I had a feeling that they were trying to make a move on me and I am to stupid to notice

Jackson: well what were they doing?

Zachary: well they were leaning really close to me they invited me into their room

Jackson: i’m no relationship guru or anything but definitely kind of sounds like that they were trying to get you to do something, but don’t jump to conclusions

Zachary: I know but I still feel like a idiot

Jackson: I can see why

The next day at lunch

Aristotle: hay I’m sorry for acting weird yesterday I understand if you were uncomfortable

Zachary: nah it’s fine you probably don’t invite anyone to your house over often so you probably got really comfortable being yourself with me immediately

Aristotle: good I had a fun time yesterday I would love to hang out more!

Zachary: me to!

Jackson: hay sorry to ruin the mood over here. You guys wanna go to that concert next month?

Aristotle: yea what kind of concert? 

Zachary: my favorite band called “ eyes beyond the hate” they are really good!

Aristotle: what kind of band are they? 

Jackson: metal!! 

Aristotle: like heavy metal?

Zachary: no do you want to come?

Aristotle: I would love to! What day?

Jackson: Sunday the 10th

Aristotle: oh I have church that day……. But I could skip this is the first time I have friends! 

Jackson: you didn’t have any friends in your old houses and country’s you lived in?

Aristotle: no everybody where I used to live found me scary and since I moved so much, I didn’t see a point in trying to make friends 

Zachery: then we can get you a ticket! 

Aristotle: oh no I can pay do buy in person or online and is Charlie coming?

Zachary: in person and yes Charlie is coming we’re gonna try disguise him as human

Aristotle: ok how long is the concert? 

Zachary: starts at 12 and ends at seven

Aristotle: ok thanks for inviting me

Jackson: anytime bird face! 

Aristotle: don’t call me that again

Jackson: sorry

End of chapter











[raahosh]

Hi!! i recently discovered your writings and BOOM total fan :D i really like the Kaz Brekker x reader stuff and since i am totally obsessed with this guy i was wondering if you could write something like him x reader and she is like this one of a kind Grisha (like she can create blue fire for example) and how they met and how was she taken as a members etc. Thank you, love you and keep doin what u doing :X

Type: Kaz Brekker x reader.

Fandom: Six of Crows.

Summary: The story of one of the most trusted member of the Dregs since the beginning.

Warnings: Mention of blood, injured people and a kind of fluff and I think Kaz Brekker being Kaz Brekker needs a warning itself, mentions of trauma.

Authors note: First I'd like to thank you, I'm really happy that you like what I do, you're so sweet. Second of all, I thought about doing it like this, I really hope you liked. And sorry if it's too long.

ㅤㅤㅤHow you guys met

Kaz Brekker knew about every new person in Ketterdam that could be useful in the future. He kept an eye on every single person that stepped on the Barrel and that wasn't different for you.

He made at least 2 people get information about you, whatever type of it, he just wanted to know more about the new Grisha that had come to the Barrel. Soon he discovered your name, age, where you came from and the place you go most frequently. Of course, Inej had helped him with all of that, her hiding skills were impressive but she had to show up to get some further information, making her your first friend in Ketterdam.

The other guy that was sent to follow you everywhere you go almost got killed by the other gang which tried to do the same as Kaz, but this one wasn't even a little kind or subtle.

You got a lot of gang requests, a lot of people came to you trying to make money from you but you were here for different reasons. You just ran off of Ravka to find yourself, you didn't want to be part of the army, didn't want to be with those people for long, you wanted to find something you truly liked.

One day you were at a bar and saw Inej coming from the door in a hush to talk to you. You were tipsy. And yes, isn't a good thing to get drunk in a city where you didn't know anything about. Ketterdam was still a mystery for you, you were there for 3 months and familiar with the place but not actually how it worked.

"So, Y/N, do you want to be part of something?" Her voice was low like she was sharing a really important State secret with you.

"Of course I want, what's your-" You almost fell. "your proposal?"

"Ok, I have something for you and you'll have to trust me. I know I told you not to trust Berrel people but it's going to be in a public place. Meet me at the Fifth Harbor tomorrow at 8 AM"

Before you could ask the exact place of the Fifth Harbor she was gone.

You stayed there for a while and then went back home, you needed to sleep if you wanted to be up at 8 AM. You weren't exactly helpless, actually, you're a strong Grisha, trained in Ravka but always look twice when there's a man walking with you on the street. It was mechanical and God knows how you wanted to be more courageous, it was something whatever enemy could notice and take advantage of.

The next day you were at the Fifth Harbor when the same girl from yesterday came up to you and took you to somewhere you didn't even know existed. There you found a guy with a crow cane and another one that carried a gun with him like his baby.

The cane guy soon was recognized as Kaz Brekker, the gun one was Jesper and the girl you already know. He gave you a good proposal, you listened a lot about the Dregs the time you were in Ketterdam. At the end of the day, you accepted to work with them, with some conditions but nothing they couldn't handle. And in the end, you didn't have to go back to that hotel room, not that the place you're now in was much better but at least it wasn't dripping water from the ceiling.

Kaz made sure you were strong enough for your job, so in the first month, he gave you a lot of work to do, since stealing information from the most powerful men in Ketterdam. At first, you didn't like it, he was so cold, with that voice tone but then you just got used to it.

ㅤㅤㅤWhen you got your Dreg tattoo.

For Kaz, having you in the team was a great achievement. You were one of the most powerful kind of Grisha and were trained properly. That gave Kaz an advantage over the other gangs. He knew you'd be really useful, when he told you to join the Dregs he didn't actually know how powerful you were, it was a surprise for him when you first used it.

You didn't know why Inej didn't want to get that tattoo, it was so pretty if it was a gang tattoo or not. The day you met Jesper, the gun guy from the day you changed your life forever, this guy turned to be one of your greatest friends. Nina was there too, the other Grisha on the team, you felt a little more secure with her there. Not actually secure but at least comfortable to have someone like you.

"Let's go, Y/N, this isn't to going to bite you but Kaz will if you don't make this tattoo." You could hear Nina's voice from the end of the stairs.

"I'm not going to bite anyone. I told you, I'm not the one who's going to force her to do it, she does what she's comfortable with." Kaz was irritated, not at you but at the time we've been through.

From your door, you rolled your eyes, even though they couldn't see you. You put on your boots while coming down the stairs. When you were at the last flight of stairs you stumbled and grabbed Kaz's arm as a mechanical movement of survival.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." You said as you were taking away your hand. He didn't say a word when left for his office.

You knew he wasn't the contact guy type but this wasn't with intention. Ok, that's not important for now, the important thing is that you and Nina went to make your new Dregs tattoo and another one you wanted badly to do.

It was painful but with Jesper and Nina's there turned out to be funny. You guys laughed a lot and then went back to Ripa's.

"Y/N, how dramatic you can be, this didn't even hurt that bad."Jesper tried to tease you while he, you and Nina were drinking.

"It's easy for you to say when it wasn't you the one who was getting hurt." You showed your tongue for him.

"You guys are going to kill each other one day." Nina were laughing as much as you and Jesper.

"He can't live without me, he would never do such thing." You made your best puppy face.

"Wow, wow, wow. Don't try me, ok, blue flame." He said and you gave him that middle finger gesture.

"I'm happy you really made the tattoo." The first thing he said when you got into the room.

The moment you stepped in Kaz came in you direction and told you he wanted to see you in his office. Actually what you didn't know is that the mission he'd send you would be the one to change your life completely, not just yours but everyone with you.

"I couldn't wait longer, I like it a lot actually." You said analyzing the Crow sipping from the glass of wine in your arm. "So, what's the deal?" Actually, you had better things to do.

"I wanted to talk with you. What about 4 million kruges and more respect in this city? Maybe going back to Ravka, but I don't really know what you're going to do with the money when we get back." If he's being honest he didn't want you to leave but that is something he wasn't going to admit either for himself.

"Are you serious? Of course, I'd like to. So, what do I have to break into?" You said excitedly and your hand went to hold your waist.

His eyes followed your movement, then he just shook his head a little and went back to meet your eyes. "The Ice Court." He said casually and stood up with some papers in hand.

"What? Are you mad, like really insane?" And now you were eyes wide open trying to ratiocinate what he was saying. The Ice Court was impenetrable, the people that tried died in the first step.

"No, but I'll need your help and some other people but just you know that for now. So, you're in or out?" He started moving in the room. It wasn't big but neither small.

You thought for a bit, bringing your fingers to your chin trying to think of the possible consequences. Then you sighed and took a step closer to Kaz's table, you turned abruptly and leaned backward, your hands holding the table and your thighs resting on it.

His eyes studied your movements for a bit. He crossed his arms almost telling you to leave but he didn't and that's why Kaz Brekker was thinking so much. Why couldn't he tell you to stop being so comfortable in his office? Is that because he didn't want to?

He'd know later that is because he loved to see you getting confident around him, he's a guy after all and when you came to the city, your first weeks you were so professional and the old Kaz liked it but now...

"Ok Brekker I'm in but I'm going to think until tomorrow. I'm going to analyze." You signed. It was a hard decision. You were indebted, not like Jesper or the rest but owed some money for some people.

"I'll give you until tomorrow. Meet me here at 10 PM and if you don't come I know you're out." Did you notice all the looks and analysements he was doing at you? Well, you were too focused on this suicide mission to notice anything.

When you went to your room this night all you could think of was that Kaz Brekker called you for a super important mission and which things you should bring with you. Maybe he trusted you, maybe not, but if not why would he tell you about something like this.

ㅤㅤㅤThe moment he realized he trusted you.

It was chaos, our plan failed, they knew we were here. You got seriously injured, Nina was trying to heal you but it was so back. When you tried to use your powers against a Fjerdan soldier he used something to make your flame doesn't work. Of course, they'd have it but you didn't think it'd be used at all, not as fast as that guy did.

He hit you so bad that your leg was invaluable right now. Nina was doing her best to heal you, you were losing a lot of blood and you didn't know what to do, you were trying to stay awake and Jesper was giving you water, you were all in the ceiling of the building, and Kaz...Just God knows where Kaz is.

That's when he appeared behind Nina and when his gaze met your body the concern in his expression turned serious. He was trying to hide it but it was impossible. He came fast and knelt before you.

"What the fuck happened here? Why's she losing so much blood? Nina, does something." His tone was cold but obviously worried.

"I'm trying ok, Brekker." That's when she did something that made you stop bleeding.

You tried to move again but it was difficult, painful but you couldn't let it. You tried to stand up and leaned on Kaz to do it, he was so astonished that didn't even remember to think properly. His breath was in your neck and his arm around the back of your waist, giving you some kind of stability. Your arm was around his shoulder trying to stay up and be awake.

Y'all stayed there for a while when you not fully recovered but you could at least walk properly. Kaz told the parts of the new plan that was convenient for you and you listened to every bit of it afraid of being a weight for them.

"Ok, if you want I can lend you my cane. If you can't walk." He was cold as a stone but that concern didn't vanish.

He wasn't sure why he did that, why he said that. Would he really give you his cane?... Of course, he would but why? The pieces don't align... Did he trust you? Of course, he did, that's why he asked you to come with him. Ok, we don't have time for this now.

"Doesn't need, thank you anyway. Let's go, we can talk when we're out of this place." You giggled but he did not. So you two went back to your parts of the plan.

ㅤㅤㅤThe first real moment.

You were looking for Kaz, some told that he was in his office but he wasn't and some told you to look at his room and there he was. You knocked on the door and when he said you could enter you did.

It was a small room, like every other, but on the last floor of the building. He liked the sensation of having a floor just for him. When you entered the room he was organizing some things and you just leaned on the wall.

"I thought you'd like to know that my leg is better now." That was a lie. You didn't think that but you wanted to see him, for the last time maybe. You'd go back to Ravka, the place where you regretted leaving and Nina would go back with you.

"Yeah, I don't know why you thought that but-" He turned around. "You look good." His eyes were glazed on you, not because you had a bandage on your leg but... Is Kaz Brekker mesmerized? His eyes were sparkling, there's something different with Brekker today.

"Thanks, Nina did the first whole thing but then we went to see a medik and-" You said when he interrupted you. "No, I'm not talking about it- I'm just-" He didn't finish.

So you came closer to him, step by step until your body was in front of his. Your hand went to his face cupping his cheek. He was still looking at you. Actually, he was glad you were alive, he feared for you in that ceiling and if you died he would change the whole plan just to kill everyone who did that to you. But no, brick by brick.

He closed his eyes. Normally he doesn't let anyone touch him, but you were different, you were. The beat of his heart paced, he could feel it desperate to leave your chest. Your thumb traced his chin and your gaze met his mouth where your thumb was now sliding on.

The cold water was coming closer, closer to him and he didn't know how much he could hold on but he didn't want you to go. He didn't want you to leave.

"Please, don't go... Don't go back to Ravka, stay here- with me." Don't ask me, neither he knows where these words came from.

"Stay here and... What do I have to do here, Kaz?" You took a step closer. Now your bodies collided, your mouths were centimeters of distance. His breath was deregulated, yours too, he urged to kiss you. The cold water retired for a moment and that's when he thought it was over but when he opened his eyes he saw that you didn't go anywhere, you were right in front of him analyzing every move.

You leaned forward, touching your lips slightly, very very slightly, making him shiver. The touch, flesh with flesh contact terrified him and he was trying to stay stable or even pull away, but he couldn't. At the same time, he wanted to do it his trauma didn't let him. But instead of pushing he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, and thank God, it was clothed. You just turned your head a bit, to fit your lips with his better deepening the kiss but not at all.

Mouths, lips, yours were so soft, he could do it forever.

Wait, soft, lips... He had to push you when he felt like drowning, when the water consumed him, the memory, everything, it was like jumping into the lake but the water was deeper than you thought.

To be honest you never talked about it again. Not for a long time. But you earned his trust, his love, and this was going to be counted when you were in danger. Of course it was, he were that type of guy "Touch her and I'll kill you".

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 26 April 1835: SH:7/ML/E/18/0024

7

11 ¼

Good kiss last night and not so long over it her own bringing on nothing said. fine morning - cold - F47° at 8 at which hour breakfast - A- and I off to the Sunday school our premier essai (walked) at  8 25/60 and there in ½ hour - just in time - met Washington and Mrs Ann Lee at the Crownest gate - 53 girls - A- read prayers - gave me the 1st class (15 girls) W- the 2nd and she and Mrs Anne Lee took the rest - my class read very well- said the collect for the day - found the lessons for the morning and evening service - said 5 or 6 verses of part of the 119th psalm and one of Walt's hymns and read the 24 chapter of Luke besides answering a form of questions on the old and new testament - home (walked slowly) in ¾ hour at 11 ¼ - read from p. 338 to 357 Quarterly Review n°106 published this month - good article on Hope’s history of architecture - very favourably reviewed - at 12 read prayers to my aunt and A- and Oddy and George in ½ hour - A- and I off at 1 27 to Lightcliffe Sunday school and drove there in 18 minutes - ¼ hour too soon - I drove down to Crow nest - left the great plan with Washington and brought him back in the carriage to the school - taught the girls as in the morning - 50 minutes teaching Ephesians ii. 4 and 5 - ½ asleep or more all the time - Mr W- kept the girls to hear them their catechism that we did not go back with them to the school but Ann Lee was to dismiss them at church - home about 4 ¾ - A- a little while with my father and Marian and I staid talking to the latter till after 6 - dinner at 6 ½ - coffee - about ½ hour with my father and Marian - Letter 3 pages and ends and under the seal from M- Leamington - Dr Jephson has got her 10 £20 shares at the original cost (now selling at £4 premium) in the Droit-wich Alkali Company for little Mariana the first £100 to be paid in a fortnight - so M- wishes to have this sum from me - ‘Do you think I was wrong?’ (to take the shares) - I will not say wrong - but in her place I think I should not have taken the money out of safe hands into such a speculation - M- tells me of a

SH:7/ML/E/18/0025

bright bay mare ‘with 4 black legs, 5 years old this May, and 15 hands high’ ridden all last winter by a lady belongs to a friend of M-‘s on whom she can entirely depend - price 50 guineas ‘it is perfect’ - debated whether to offer her own horse to me for A-‘s riding - begging to be tired of riding - I do not like a mare - M- does not say where the mare is thorough bred or not - mentions having heard of A-‘s and my visit to York and of my adding if a warmer climate would be of service - ‘and I heard too of ‘Miss Walker’s reminding you just before you went away that you had not inquired after little Miss Belcombe’ how is it my Fred, that this interesting little creature has so invariably escaped your memory - it was the same, even when I was your 2nd self. you know it often grieved me and I used to say you would not forget those belonging to others in the same way - many a time have I puzzled over what it could possibly be in your composition that made you so little interested in what, next to yourself, interested me -  I often searched my own heart but never could find anything there to match with such indifference. In some of my letters I see your complaint ‘is often made. In one I opened a few days ago I found the following sentence on another subject ‘Fred if it is destined that another should take my place, I will wish  for you every happiness but do not ask me my friendship for more than yourself, above all do not ask me to see me again’ - How much of all this feeling is still hanging round my heart, and yet we have met, and Adney sends me her kind regards, and I am on the point of returning them - she hopes to see me some of these days - yes, some of these days perhaps we shall all meet, but we will wait a little, wait till sorrows are rather more forgotten now they are consoled rather than unremembered’!!! and all these sorrows were her own forcing on! Mr L- has determined to give up his house at Leamington - M- is sorry - they may spend the summer at Lawton - Letter also from Mrs Chaytor (Spennithorne hall Bedale) dated yesterday and direct to ‘A. Lister. Esquire’ - 2 years since John Clarke left her service - ‘by no means a finished footman but I believe he is honest sober and good tempered civil and obliging neat in his person, and tolerably active about his work -I am sir your obedient servant Ann Chaytor’ - what has the man been doing these last 2 years? Shall he come here on trial or not? - wrote all but the 1st 6 lines of today till now 9 55 then 25 minutes with my aunt - fine day till 11 ¼ am afterwards several snow showers and very cold - F46 ½° now at 10 ½ pm

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VERSUS BONUS CD ー 24 HOURS [Laito ver.]

Original title: 24H ライト編

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS BONUS CD [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Daisuke Hirakawa

Translator’s note: This track was surprisingly...tame? It’s Laito after all so I was expecting much more blood sucking scenes and obscene moaning but all in all, it wasn’t too bad. He does take you to a love hotel and plays around with some of the ‘toys’ there, but all the naughty bits are just vaguely alluded to. My favorite part is probably Laito trying to be sneaky and seducing the female teacher to pass the class, only for his plan to fail. I wonder how many times he attempted something similar in the past, and how often he actually succeeded. It seems like these boys barely study but somehow all triplets did make it to their second year.

Shuu ll Reiji ll Ayato ll Kanato ll Laito ll Subaru

15:00 ll 3 PM

ー Laito wakes up.

“Nn...Aah~ I woke up a little early. ー Aah, Bitch-chan. Good morning~ Ah, right. We slept together last night, huh? Hmm~? You still seem a little dazed. I guess yesterday was a little too intense after all? 

...Why don’t we take a bath together to wake up? ー Aah. But if you bathe together with me, you might not be able to get up instead. Fufu~”

16:00 ll 4 PM

ー The sound of water can be heard in the background.

“There’s still time until we have to leave for school, so messing around in bed wouldn’t have been fine as well, but once in a while, taking an early morning bath together isn’t bad either~ 

I know! Hey~! Let’s wash each other’s bodies. Every little nook and cranny of Bitch-chan’s body. Heh ー No. Even the very depths of body, I’ll clean it all thoroughly, okay~? Nfu...Fufufu...”

17:00 ll 5 PM

ー Crows are crying in the background.

“The sun has started to go down. Aah~ It feels as if morning has come. Nfu~ What’s wrong? Seems like you’re still spacing out. Did you soak too long in the bath? After all, it was quite the lengthy bath. As a result, I’m wide awake now. I wonder if it’s thanks to your blood?”

18:00 ll 6 PM

ー A door slides open.

“Ah-aah~ It’s a pain but it’s almost time for school. If we don’t get changed and head downstairs, Reji will give us an earful. Oh! Bitch-chan, you can sit still. To make up for everything I did to you in the bath, I’ll change your clothes for you. 

Eh? You don’t want to? No need to be shy~ To say that you have a bad feeling about it...You really are too distrusting. I’m always trying my best to be a gentleman above all~”

19:00 ll 7 PM

“We have to get into the limousine soon. Ah! Of course, it has already been decided that your seat will be on my lap~ Or else, you’ll become the target of those ferocious brothers of mine! 

...Eh? What’s wrong? Did you say something?”

ー He shifts closer. 

“I feel like I heard something amongst the lines of ‘As of now, that’s preferable’? ー It’s just my imagination, right?”

20:00 ll 8 PM

ー Students can be heard talking in the background.

“Haa...We arrived at school. Ah, Bitch-chan, did you do your assignment? Eeh!? When did you...I...Nfu~ No way I did it. Ah-ah~ What a pain...This subject’s teacher is a woman, so maybe I should pull some strings behind the scenes so she’ll let me pass~

Eh? What’s up with that face? Are you jealous, perhaps? Haha...! No need to worry~ I’m always yours after all. Rest assured. Fufu~”

ー He pecks you on the lips.

21:00 ll 9 PM

ー The bell rings.

“Aah~ I want to go home! In the end my sneaky plans didn’t work out. For God’s sake...This is exactly why I hate stubborn women. Next time I’ll suck her blood! 

ー Wait! It’s just a lie~ Right now I’m more than satisfied with your blood, okay? I don’t need even a single drop of another woman’s blood.  Nfu~ I’m speaking the truth so I wish you would put some faith in me. Haha...Hahaha...”

22:00 ll 10 PM

ー The bell rings again.

“Haa...I just feel so sluggish today, I’m thinking of going to the infirmary but...Won’t you accompany me, Bitch-chan? Maybe it’s because I’ve only drank your blood once in the bath today, but I feel dizzy. I need to replenish my nutrients~”

ー Laito gets up from his chair.

“Let’s go then. At this hour, there’s nobody at the nurse’s office. Okay~?”

23:00 ll 11 PM

“Just one more hour and then it’s finally lunch break. Haa-aah~ Let’s take it easy here for a little longer. Oh? You’re totally listless ー Guess you aren’t in the mood to move anyway. Hahaha...Thanks to you, I’ve completely regained my energy~

This is the perfect opportunity...Guess I’ll tease Bitch-chan while she can’t move~ Nfu...Fufufu~”

24:00 ll 12 AM

“Haa...It’s lunch break. Ah-aah~ Why does one day go by so slowly? Oh well, I’m a Vampire, so that might be why I feel that way. We are immortal after all. To someone like me, this useless school life might not even be too bad. 

Oh well, it’s fine. Bitch-chan, aren’t you hungry? In that case, want to try drinking my blood?”

ー You run away.

“...Huh? Aaah~! Bitch-chan!? Where are you going!?” 

1:00 ll 1 AM

ー Students can be heard talking in the background.

“Fufu~ Bitch-chan, you’re yawning? Is it because you’re full after eating lunch? Eh? I’m wrong? Seems like you still haven’t gotten used to this lifestyle. To me this is the time where I’m the most active, so I’ve kind of gotten worked up. I think that it’s because you are so closeby to me~”

ー He scoots over.

“Say...Why don’t we skip afternoon classes and have some fun? Whichever place you prefer, anywhere is fine.”

2:00 ll 2 AM

ー A dog can be heard barking in the background.

“Fufu~ You are a bad girl, Bitch-chan. To think you’d actually skip school...Oh well~ Because of that, we’re all alone like this. So, where are we going? 

...There aren’t any places open at this hour? Hmー Come to think of it, humans are asleep at this hour, right? That’s a problem...For now, why don’t we go for a walk while holding hands like this?”

ー He grabs your hand.

“That’s nice for a change, isn’t it? Today’s special, okay~?”

ー The two of you start walking.

3:00 ll 3 AM

“Hmm~ To think there would be such a wonderful castle in the middle of the city! That’s new to me. On top of that, this place is open 24/7, right? What’s wrong, Bitch-chan? You’re getting all flustered. Weirdo~”

ー He steps around.

“Aah...There’s a bed and a large bath as well! It might not be bad to spend the night here rather than returning to the manor. Nfufu~”

4:00 ll 4 AM

“Aah~ You’re sexy too when just out of the bath. Seeing you in a bathrobe is kind of refreshing too, I’m glad we came here! Nfufu...Fufufu~ 

Now...Come here.”

ー He steps closer.

“For starters, give me some nutrients, okay? You just soaked in the bath, so your blood circulation should have improved. Seems like I’ll get to drink some delicious blood~”

ー Laito licks his lips before biting you.

“Nn...Nn...Aah...”

5:00 ll 5 AM

“Haa...I ended up drinking too much blood and now I’m kind of sleepy. Hm? That isn’t the case for you? Fufu...Guess it can’t be helped, I can be rather intense when drinking blood after all.

In that case, I don’t mind tending to you until you’ve calmed down. You see, I found this interesting thing in our room earlier.”

ー He shifts closer.

“...I want to test it out on you. Nfufufu~”

6:00 ll 6 AM

“Nn...”

ー Laito yawns loudly.

“I ended up taking a little nap.That thing from earlier sure was interesting~ Seems like you can purchase them, so I might have to buy one soon. ...Then, let’s enjoy ourselves at the manor as well.

...That being said, Why don’t you have a little snack, Bitch-chan? It seems like you can order from here. Look, look, there’s plenty of choice!”

7:00 ll 7 AM

“Hm...You can’t look outside from here so it kind of feels like the night continues on forever. Wouldn’t it be better for all of us to move in here rather than forcing ourselves to live in a manor with windows?

Then again...This place doesn’t have a torture chamber, so that’s a downside. It would be troublesome for you too, right? After all, that room is your favorite after all~ Nfu~”

8:00 ll 8 AM

ー The two of you are back outside.

“It’s actually morning already. Reallyー When we were there, it seemed like time had stopped. Aaah~ I wanted to enjoy it just a little longer. It even had a karaoke and all. If only we hadn’t been called back by Reiji...Oh well, guess it’s fine~ Let’s go again some other time!”

ー He takes a few steps forward.

“Next time, let’s go for a round bed, okay? I’m a little curious about the ‘Japanese-style’ rooms as well. Which kind of room would you prefer, Bitch-chan?”

9:00 ll 9 AM

ー Laito paces around the room.

“Hm...It might be because we slept in the castle at town, I’m not very tired at all but guess we should rest soon. Bitch-chan looks a little sleepy as well.

Aah~ To think there’s school again after sleeping...What a drag.

Eh? You’ll do your homework? Good grief...Just how serious of a student are you? Oh well, you can go ahead and study. I’ll be embracing you from behind and...drinking your delicious blood~

Huh? That way you can’t study? Nfu~ That isn’t...true, right? Nfufufu~”

10:00 ll 10 AM

ー The sound of a ticking clock echoes while you’re doing homework.

“Yaaawn. Hey, are you still working on that? Let’s just sleep already...

Eeeh!? I don’t want that! I’m the type of person who can’t sleep by themselves. Come on, come here.”

ー You walk over to the bed.

“Exactly. Behave yourself, okay? I need to have a drink before going to bed or I can’t sleep. Nfu~ Yes, yes! You know, don’t you? Well then...Relax. Expose everything to me and...You’ll let me drink your delicious blood, right?”

11:00 ll 11 AM

“Nfu~ I really drank a lot. Look at you all worn out...Bitch-chan, you’re so cute. Your innocent reactions as if every time is the first..Ah~ I can’t get enough of them...

...Huh? Were you awake? No, it’s nothing. Well then, goodnight. Outside the sun is shining bright, but to us this is our night. Sweet dreams. Nfu~”

12:00 ll 12 PM

ー Laito wakes up with a loud gasp.

“...Ah! ...It’s been a while since I last saw that bad dream. The more I want to forget it, the more I remember it. Haha...Even though that person is no longer in this world. I feel like I’ve been starting having those dreams again ever since I started sleeping together with Bitch-chan. 

Well, it must just be imagining things, right? Bitch-chan is...sound asleep. Guess I should sleep some more as well. Mm...”

ー He kisses you in your sleep.

13:00 ll 1 PM

“Nn...Bitch-chan? What’s wrong? Is it already that late? Wait! It’s still this early! Eh? You woke up because it’s hot? I see. It’s hot because you’re wearing such a nightgown. In that case, I’ll take it off for you. Scoot over, okay?”

ー You return to the bed.

“After I’ve stripped you...I’ll make sure to properly lick off the sweat from your whole body, okay?” 

ー Laito licks his lips.

14:00 ll 2 PM

"Aah...I’m still sleepy. No good...I only got a light sleep...Did I drink too much of Bitch-chan’s blood? It’s quite thick so when you have too much, your body heats up preventing me from getting a good night’s rest. Why does she have such mysteriously charming blood? Bitch-chan, you~”

...For now, guess I’ll get some more sleep. The night is still young after all. Nfu~ Bitch-chan...It’s ‘goodnight’...for just a little longer. ...Muah~”

[stone-man-warrior]

June 17, 2020: 3:24 pm:

Neighborhood Assessment: It’s quiet outside. The Sun is out today, it’s a beautiful day, a slight breeze brings cool air. There are peacocks at Sunflower terror cell making the required announcement to the neighboring terror cells that I stepped outside, and was within view of the people who control the peacocks. Think of the peacocks, and the sound they make, as bullhorn being used to make sure everyone can hear what has been said. That is how the peacocks are used at the Sunflower terror cell on Russell Road. There were some strange bird calls today, and last night. Today the strange bird calls were like the ones a crow makes, but not exactly. The new bird call today came from behind the 520 address in the woods. That other new bird call was shrill sort of repeating sound, fast chirping, and that came from the direction of the Strong terror cell and from behind the Monroe terror cell, yesterday. Yesterday at dusk, the neighborhood began to show signs of aggressive behavior. The sound of trucks, motorcycles, quads, and other sounds of revving engines, all coming from a direction that included the part of Jackpine that includes where my house is on the street, and towards Freeberg’s, and Dietricks terror cells. It was a reminder of the way things have been in the past, roaring engines of all kinds used as terror tools, for communication, and noise cover. I am still very sore from the arrest on Monday. I can still feel the place on my back where the officers knee struck me repeatedly, and on my neck where I was hit, and pressure applied there at my left side of my neck and shoulder. I am concerned about my knee, it took many years for that to heal from old wounds, and other people keep targeting that knee, over and over, and over again, such that the wound is never going to heal. Terror bastards like to use hyper extension when they want to hurt someone, and that is what is going on with that injury. Repetitive hyper-extensions over course of many years has been applied to my knees.

There are no doctors available in Oregon anymore. The medical services are all terror controlled, only serve the needs of the terror army, and SAG members. They get the best medical treatment available, while the US Citizens are Victimized, tortured, farmed of assets, killed, and then replaced with impostor look-a-likes who assume the identities of the murdered US Citizen Victims. The impostors vote the way they are instructed to vote, on both sides of the voting ballot, for SAG shill candidates who are cast onto the ballots, by SAG leadership. I am going to be sore for a while, a doctor cannot change that anyway. A doctor could make me feel more comfortable, but not completely pain free. SAG likes it when US Citizens are sent to a doctor, especially when the patient is insured with Medicare, and has Part-D. That kind of patient, helps to keep SAG members very comfortable, all of the time. Think of Ironside, meets Marcus Wellby, MD, to understand, then switch to McGiver, for ingenuity. Get yourself a shoe-horn, and think some more. ==============================

I’ll explain about how what to expect at the Jo-Co jail if you happen to be sent there. It was not as bad of an experience, as it could have been. It could have been much worse, there might be a message in that idea, so, I’ll just say what it looks like in there, and how the booking procedure is done. When you arrive in the sheriff car, there is a gate, the officer says what is going on, and why he or she is there. “Co-Operative Male in Custody”, the answer was a repeat of what was said, and then acknowledgement. The car is driven into a garage, and the garage door closes behind the car. There is doors there, that lead into the booking area. Once inside, a search is done there, the officers ask some health questions, so they don’t get AIDS or a virus. Any jewelry, and other accessories, are bagged right there at the search area. Then, into another room where there is a toilet, and a shower, a bench, sink, and coat-rack on the wall. The shower does not work. Maybe the deputy has to turn that on at a master control. The room is about 12 by eight feet. There, you remove your clothing, and are given some jail clothes to wear. The intake officer has a visual search through a window opening in the wall, a property receipt is signed there at the window, detailed, items listed. Some more health questions are asked, this time it’s more about medical history. The door opens, and it’s off to the booking area, a bigger area. From the time the car pulled into the garage, to the time the jail clothes are put on, is about thirty to forty-five minutes. It was done expeditiously, did not take all day. Then, into “Holding” area. There are a number of small cells, I was put into room number one, about a 16 by 20 feet room. Everything is super heavy duty and indestructible in there. The whole jail, is super heavy duty, nothing is ever going to need repair inside of the jail. Steel, concrete, block, and stainless steel, is what the place is made of. In Holding Room One, there were Two other unfortunate men. The room is suitable for three men, to lay down, if one uses the floor. Others could also fit, and lay down on concrete, while waiting for the remainder of the booking process to happen. I was asked if I wanted some food, and/or a blanket. I took the food, not knowing how long I might be there. I declined the blanket, but one was handed to me through a hole in the door that is made for passing blankets and food through. I was asked to fill out four different forms of information, everything there is to know about ID, body markings, some more health questions, and very detailed financial information was asked on the forms. Marital Status questions were repeated on each form, and some family and emergency contact information was asked for on the forms. I was asked to come out of the Holding room three times. Once to sign the forms and swear to the accuracy. Once to have a photo taken, and I asked that the intake officer also take a photo of some scarring that I have, in anticipation of further arrests in the future, and making sure that the ones who make the arrest are knowledgeable of areas vulnerability. And one more time I was asked to leave the room for fingerprinting, which is done electronically, with a computer scanning machine, at the initial intake area, where the jewelry was taken, and initial search was done after coming out of the sheriff car in the garage. At about 4:30 pm, I was inside my house reading and writing, at 9:00 pm, I was having my fingerprints taken at the Sheriff’s office, County Jail. I asked for a phone call three times. My question was heard, and I was told there would be a time for a call. That last time I asked, was during the fingerprinting, it was just after 9:00 pm. The printing officer told me what my bail was, and explained that the banks are all closed, and the phones close at 9:00 pm anyway, so, maybe tomorrow a phone call can happen, but I was also told that I was going to be going to court the next day, so, phone call won’t help. I explained that I have animals to care for, and no one knows that I was there, that I wanted to at least tell someone where I am. I was told that I cannot tell someone where I am on a jail phone call, you can only talk about bail, on a jail phone call. My pinky finger on my left hand, refused to scan for a print. Many scans were made, but it just would not scan. There was a manual override on the software to make the machine accept the scan as it was taken. Back into holding cell one, I went.

(The sound of big trucks outside tells me that Centurylink internet service has decided that what I am writing about right now, requires that Pacific Power send Dietrick are to make a lot of scary truck sounds around my home. It’s a staple of terror, to use what they have available, to do the terror, and they have a lot of big noisy trucks to teach the citizens with, over time. Big noisy trucks are driven by young strong construction crews and road builders are on board also. That is what the message is.) I think I will stop for writing for now. end terror report: 4:52 pm.

====================================

(I am doing something I never do, I used the edit feature here on Tumblr to continue saying about the booking process at Jo-Co County Jail. Begin again: 5:34 pm.)

The intake finger print officer took me back to holding cell one, a different way than the way we had gone to the finger print machine. We went through a hallway, and into a large, dark, and cold place, another room that was very similar to the booking area, which consists of a centralized service desk, with counter tops all around on three sides. So this other room, was a duplicate of that centered service counter booking area, darker, and noticeably cold. We went out of there, down another hallway, and into holding room one. My guess is there is the holding area for newly arriving people who have been arrested, and, this other cold, dark place, also with some holding rooms, that serves the actual main jail inmates in some way.

So, I was in holding room one with those two other men, no one spoke to one another. The two other men, looked like they were dead for the first half hour I was in there filling out the forms, I had to check to see if they were breathing. Finally, they both moved a bit. Each one was laying and completely covered with the blanket that is offered in there. Each of them was called out of holding room one, twice while I was there, and then returned. After a short time after finger printing, I was called to be “housed”. A body scan is taken at that time, electronically, with a large machine. It has a conveyor belt on it and some hand rails. You stand there, and the machine moves you through there, on the conveyor belt. Instructions are given to stand a particular way. At that point, it would be very easy to do the wrong thing. I felt that it was very important that I do exactly as instructed, listen carefully, and not be distracted by actions of others nearby, at any time while in the jail. Words are more important then visual movements, while in jail. The body scanner machine is big, made of stainless steel, with a conveyor, it has a computer attached to it on the service counter side where the officers are at. I suppose it’s like the machines at airports for looking at luggage, but that one, looks inside of people. I was asked if I had a implant of some kind in my right kidney area. Another officer was asked to look at the scan, and she could see no implant, while the other officer said he had seen something in my kidney area. We got past that part, I was frisked against a US American Flag poster, made of paper. I was given a cup, something in a tube, may have been toothpast, but was clear, like shampoo. I did not look at it closely. There was spoon, a pen, some bar soap, and paper with my booking number on it and some other information, that paper somehow is not in the things I came home with, it was either lost, taken from where I put it while Housed in jail, or, was taken at the time of release by an officer. There was a small ticket sort of paper in the cup, has information necessary to “Create a Turnkey Account” at the jail. And, a roll of toilet paper was given to me. A giant size Sheriff deputy, not a jailer, passed by me at that time, and asked “How are you doing?”. I was given a bed roll. Off we went, down a hall with a lot of doors along the hallway. My guess, is those are holding rooms for one person from the main jail if they cause problems. We passed by those, then, I was given a mat to sleep on. It was more stuff than I could carry, but I managed, and we got to the jail main housing, the jailer said “Places”, then the door opened, I went in, and the door closed behind me. I had been given a bunk number. There were men seated at some tables watching a television. In unison, there was a lot of “Que pasa?”, “Howzit going”, “Hellooooo”.... I replied, “Greetings all, I’ve been better, thanks for asking”. I went to my bunk. Three others helped me find it, and they also showed me how the sheet is supposed to fit onto the mattress pad. It was like trying to cram ten pounds of stuff, into a five pound bag, it didn’t work very well, and took three jailed men, and a new guy, to  get the mattress, into the sheet. It’s like a sock, fits on the mattress pad like a sock. All was good. The people were not mean, not too nice, it was ok.

A guard came through the jail a number of times during the night. I spent my time quietly. The mattress pads are not very thick, and the bunks are made with heavy steel. There was no sleeping for me, it was very uncomfortable, and I was too sore to sleep on that. There is an upper, and a lower bunk, I saw only one person sleeping on an upper bunk. There was at least one lower bunk with no one on it, and the place was pretty much filled up with people sleeping on the lower bunks. There was only one person that I could see sleeping on the upper part of the jail housing area. I estimate there were 33 men in jail while I was there. No one else came into the jail while I was there. Next day, I had a look around. There is an upper sleeping area, and a lower one. The lower one has thirty-two bunks. I don’t know how any are upstairs. There is a shower area, has curtains, somewhat private. There is a restroom area. All is made heavy duty and unbreakable.

There are some phones on the wall that require an account with that “Turnkey” account number I was given. There is a computer on the wall that works like “Jail eMail”, messages can be sent and received there. I was told you can request medical services with it, and talk to a jailer with it, see your court scheduling and some other similar kinds of basic communication can be done on the Jail Email. There is another electronic gizmo on the wall also, no one touched that one, but the message machine was something that I saw being used. I did not see anyone using the phones. There are some books on a book cart, not many. Seven large stainless steel picnic tables are solidly bolted to the ground. There are no windows in jail. There are some skylights, with bars over them, the ceiling is about thirty feet high. The jail is about one-hundred by seventy-five feet inside the main jail where the people are kept. There are some acoustic panels on the walls to help with the echo, reverberation, quality of the sound that can be heard in the room. Even with the acoustic panels, when information is spoken over the intercom, such as a call for a particular person to come to the front door service area, the sound quality of the room itself prevents what can be heard. The people in there, have become very attentive to announcements made by intercom. The jailers do not repeat what they say, it is said only one time. It turns out that all of those items that were given to me, the cup, spoon, toilet paper and such, are very important while in jail. Breakfast came in the morning, cereal cornflakes and some corn bread, watery milk, and some honey.

The breakfast treys are made very thick, and are hollow. They are more than one inch in thickness. It looks like a whole stack of treys, but is only one, hollow, trey. The jail was clean. It’s well built, never going to fall down, ever. There is a lot that could be said about the people in the jail. This is not the place to say any of that. At no time, did I feel threatened by anyone in the jail main housing area. No one touched me while I was in jail. I spoke to others for a total of about two minutes while I was in jail. The people in the jail were of mixed race, Latino, and white. There were no people of other heritage that I could see. My recommendation for being at jail, is to do as you are told to do, listen carefully, follow instructions. Don’t make eye contact, don’t make hand or other signaling, only speak if someone else speaks to you first, and then, be courteous, without being overly friendly, or overly rude. End terror report: 6:55 pm.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 29 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Okay y’all...listen. I meant to get this part up yesterday, but the Met Gala ate my fucking soul. Billie and Cody finally together at an event since MONTHS AGO at Ryan Murphy’s Walk of Fame ceremony is a thing I have been waiting for...since then, which was back in November. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED. Cody looked like some kind of cerulean space prince, and Kenzie looked like a goddamn glitter princess barbie, and then they started screaming along to Cher together and I DIED and now I’m speaking to you from heaven. IT’S BEEN A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE WE GOT ANY COLLIE CONTENT. I was on cloud nine, and I still am. It’s the intense, magnetic chemistry between them that birthed Millory in the first place, and Millory, of course, birthed Duckenzie. The two of them so happy together after months of not seeing each other was just so incredibly wonderful, I feel so grateful to Leslie in particular. I still feel like I’m high off of all of it, but especially the two of them, who are just absolute royalty to me. AND NOW ON TO THE CHAPTER: This is a big one. I’ve been waiting for a long time to introduce Rosemary to all of you--who is (did you guess?) my Angela Basset/Marie Laveau AU. I’ve known for awhile that she was going to play an important role in this story, and it was as wonderful for me to meet her as it was for Duckenzie here. She’ll show up one more time before the end; and I might do a little one-shot eventually where they go to visit her in New Orleans. She makes a really mean gumbo. Her top is like this, her skirt like this, her headscarf, her boots, some of her necklaces: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A reminder that Kenzie’s dress in this part looks like this. The Fates, at least, my version of them (certainly based on the Moirai but also on the many incarnations of Hecate, as she bestows magical powers on Kenzie and Duncan, and on the witches in the AHS universe, and all witches in all universes, at least in my mythology), were always going to be the Triple Goddess, the Goddess many witchcraft practitioners (myself included) pay homage to: once again, the Divine Feminine energy that guides true goodness in the universe. Her mythology is partially my own invention (giving her a Heaven, making her the force of Light that fights against cosmic Darkness/the Devil, rather than a patriarchal god), partially in accordance to many witch beliefs. I loved that “god” appears to Michael in APOCALYPSE as a little girl; if anyone remembers that I put Ariana Grande’s GOD IS A WOMAN way back in Part 4 (cuz y’all, even then I had plans), you get a cookie. Duckenzie’s High Destiny has long been in the works in the grace notes of my story; it’s the cosmic energy of their union bringing a balance into their world. I’d need some weed to deal with the information they’re given, hence they smoke some weed. To finally have a chance to explain the way in which Duncan and Kenzie are Michael and Mallory was a big moment for me and for this fic; and to explain that she will always be his saving grace, too. I didn’t want to focus on sadness or despair regarding Duncan’s fate as Michael; rather the joy of the redemption of Duncan’s universe. I had to put WITCH-QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS in this part as an homage to Rosemary being Marie Laveau in another life (also, it’s a fucking jam). Had to include a nod to Purity Ring’s BEGIN AGAIN in Duncan’s thoughts when he’s eating Kenzie out in this part, the most Millory song of all time to me. A reminder that this is the Demeter/Persephone illustration. This is the one of Selene looking down on Endymion. The excerpt Kenzie reads is indeed directly from the book. This chapter marks the closure of an important arc of my fic; from here on out, I’m moving forward into the last 1/3 of the story. As ever, your reblogs, comments, asks and edits (moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, everything) mean the world to me. If you’re reading, please take a minute to reblog the masterpost, thank you. 

The light was high when he finally woke; the day was half over, Duncan could tell immediately, before he even opened his eyes. We slept all morning. Oh god, that’s so fucking wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I slept all morning. Something had woken him, he knew with a vague knowledge. A loud sound.

His dream drifted off. I was in the woods, dirty, starving, tired, and a little girl was offering me an apple, but I wouldn’t take it for some reason...I was waiting for someone else...and he forgot it, moving up from sleep into the summer daylight. The room was balmy-warm, the golden sunlight past the window, coming from somewhere overhead, the wind drifting on the curtains again, the sound of a crow cawing outside somewhere over the lake. It was at least midday, but Duncan could smell the remnants of the hickory fire wafting through the window. It really was a good fire. And I made it. I pulled it out of my own heart, that fire.

There was a long, low buzzing--the doorbell, Duncan knew. Or rather, the bell for the front gate, the keypad and security feed downstairs beside the walnut-wood front door. Who the fuck could that possibly be. We didn’t tell anyone but Madeline where we were going. Maybe it is Madeline?

He stirred, his arm instinctively coming around Kenzie’s breast, his nose turning down into her hair; it smelled like the grass, the sun, her sweet sweat, and the residue of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. The bed was so wonderfully soft, the feel of her so exquisite--Duncan sent out jabs of resentment towards the sound that had woken him. How fucking dare you.

Kenzie stirred a little against him--he leaned up, brushing the hair from her cheek to kiss it. The buzz rang out again, low and insistent and bracing. Her eyes fluttered and she let out a little moan, turning her face up towards him.

“Dunny, what is that,” she murmured. “Turn it off.”

“It’s the buzzer for the gate, baby,” he replied, his own voice coming out in a groan. “Someone’s at the gate.”

Her eyes came open immediately at that. “What? Who?”

“I have no idea. Did we even tell anyone where the cabin is?”

“I didn’t. Did you?”

“No...I don’t think so…”

The buzzer rang again; Kenzie moaned, turning into him, burying her face in his bare chest. How fucking dare you, he thought again, bringing his face down, kissing beside the dip of her eye. How dare you make me get out of bed, away from her. Who could have possibly found us? He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating staying and letting whoever it was ring the buzzer until they got tired and went away--but no, he thought, with a twinge of precognition. It’s someone important. It’s someone we have to see. Oh god, I hope it isn’t Annette.

Duncan got up, pained to move away from her, sliding over the softness of the bed. He trod naked to his suitcase, feeling Kenzie’s eyes on him, her eyes falling down to the half-hardness of his sleepy cock, a pout around her mouth. We came out here to get away from everyone, and still, someone found us. Somehow. Fuck. He pulled on briefs and another pair of jersey shorts, these in dark black, and one of the plain black tee shirts, ruffling a hand through his hair, and yawned.

The buzzer. Again.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “Who the fuck is that?”

“If it’s Annette, I’m going to freak out,” Kenzie said, and Duncan watched her affectionately as she kicked her legs under the soft covers in frustration. He glanced at an elaborate golden-framed clock, beside one of the laurels. It was 12:17 PM. Fuck, it’s past noon. We slept for a long time. Fuck it. We earned it. We had a perfect day yesterday, full of wonders, and a perfect, long sleep. And now what--now what.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Duncan hesitated, then winked at her. Fuck it. I’ll move through space again. Why not. He closed his eyes and grinned as he heard Kenzie’s delighted hum towards him, felt her knowledge at what he was about to do. That’s it, Dunny, show me your magic. Then her laugh cut off--he ached at the loss of it--and before he opened his eyes again, he already knew he was downstairs, facing the inside of the front door.

There was a small iPad beside the door here, the intercom below it and remote buttons for opening and closing the gate. Duncan tapped the tablet with a finger, and the security camera feed came up, facing the outward side of the road. There was a red Toyota Camry parked there, and the woman in the front seat was pressing insistently at the buzzer--he heard it ring again through the house, heard the far-away sound of another exasperated groan from Kenzie upstairs. He couldn’t see the woman’s face very well from this angle, but he could see the chocolatey color of her skin as she extended an arm through the car window. Her nails were long and red.

Duncan switched the cameras; now the one on the feed was from straight above the outside buzzer the woman was pressing so incessantly. Now he could see into the driver’s seat clearly. He didn’t recognize the woman at all, but she was stunningly beautiful; she had sharp, slanting cheekbones, pursed in impatience, full lips in deep mauve, a dark silk titian-colored scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes flashed out at him through the camera; they were dramatically intense and bright, brimming with secret knowledge. Her skin was warm cocoa-brown, and flawless. Duncan shivered.

Who are you?

He pressed the talk button on the program’s interface, puzzled, frowning.

“Can I help you?”

The woman started; Duncan saw her jerk back in her seat, surprised. Her expression shifted from frustration to one that seemed to be relief--it was difficult to tell on the feed, but she seemed tired, as though she’d been waiting for a long time, or had missed sleep, her expression drawn. As he watched her on the iPad screen, she pressed a hand between her eyes, then lifted her palms together skyward, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.Then she leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Praise be to Her, is this Duncan Shepherd?”

Duncan balked. Fuck. Shit. They found us. Someone found us.

“May I ask who you are and what your business here is?”

“I know that’s you, I can feel that it’s you, honey--and I can feel Mackenzie Stone here, too. I need you to let me in. I drove almost 17 hours with some very poor sleep in between to get here from New Orleans, pulled by the Will of the Goddess with a forceful hand, because She wants me to speak to you two and tell you what She told me, that the time is upon us. Now, if you would be so kind, I am starving and would appreciate some breakfast, and I need to park this car before I crash it into a tree, blue eyes.”

“How did you find us? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We’ve been here for a day--”

“Sugar, honey, listen, I told you. The Goddess. Sent. Me. She came to me and She told me where you were and She told me everything. It’s gonna take awhile to tell you everything, so you best let me in and make me some eggs and some black coffee and roll me a big joint of that strong blue weed I know you got.”

What the fuck.

“Who are you?”

The woman let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes, dipping her chin up, then turned back to the intercom, enunciating with a pointed impatience.

“I am Her Hand, and She sent me, and Her will is to reveal your High Destiny. My name is Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, and you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd, best let me the fuck in.”

Her words came like a heavy weight against Duncan’s mind, a pressing hand squeezing on his heart. This woman was powerful; he could feel her power from here, surrounding him, pressing against him, running along the edges of his skin, brushing the sleep from his mind, stoking him wide awake. This woman is a seer, a priestess. She can see things that are happening, have happened, will happen. She’s the one who was coming--the thing on the horizon that we felt on its way. And now she’s here. It’s her destiny to come to us, it’s our destiny to receive and hear her. Okay, Fates. I get it. I’m picking it up, loud and clear. Shit.

Duncan double-tapped the button beside the intercom; OPEN GATE.

He watched the beautiful woman through the screen; she smiled, her teeth shining out from her face--he could see her eyes flash, marvelously clear despite the smallness of the iPad screen.

“Blessed be,” she said, pushing a pair of large dark sunglasses over her eyes. Then she laughed, and the laugh sent a shiver up Duncan’s spine; it was lit with a bright joy that seemed to descend from the top of his head down into every part of his body, a tingling, vibrating energy charged with prophecy. It’s here. She’s here. The thing that was coming has arrived.

He turned away from the intercom and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time; his heart was hammering and he felt far too nervous, suddenly, to try to use his still-mysterious power once more.

“Kenz,” he called as he reached the landing, sprinting down the hall. Something was lifting him up now; kindling his excitement, pitching his nerves to a high place. “Baby--” He ran through the bedroom doorway, skidding to a stop, falling onto the bed on his knees. Kenzie was sitting up now, clutching the blanket against her naked torso, her chestnut-light hair tangled around her shoulders, staring at him with an apprehension in her sleepy eyes; then she saw his face, lit with that strange excitement building in his gut, and smiled at him, nervously.

“Dunny, what? Who was it? What is it?”

“Kenzie, it’s--I don’t know who she is, but it’s her. The one that was coming. The one we felt. You know? She’s the one. She’s beautiful, Kenzie. She’s a medium--or something, I can feel it. You know how we were talking about going to see a psychic? Well--I think she came to us. She felt us. Kenzie, she said she just drove here for 17 hours from New Orleans. She said her name is...Rosemary. Something. She said--fuck, Kenzie, she said The Goddess sent me, She told me where you were--”

His words were tumbling out at break-neck speed--he slid over the softness of the bed to grasp Kenzie’s (beautiful, tiny, beloved) hands, and he could see the uncertainty in her gaze bleeding out into the excitement he felt.

“Duncan--really?”

“Really, my love. Oh, fuck. Really.”

Kenzie let the blanket fall away from her, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself--he clutched at her, under the sweet roundness of her little breasts, pulled her against him, immediately devouring her mouth in a kiss that flooded his body with tingling energy. Her divinity washed over him--the tide of her. Mackenzie Stone. We’re here, at the doorway, our Fate is on the other side. I’m not afraid. You’re here with me.

“I found you,” he murmured into her lips. “I found you, I found you, we’re here, we’re here together, I’m ready--”

“Oh, baby--” and Kenzie was kissing him breathlessly, her smell the sweetest thing in all the world, roses crushing into him. Duncan leaned away to look at her; Kenzie’s eyes were gold-flecked and infinitely bright, and her beauty was iridescent in the noon sunlight winking through the curtains. Mackenzie Shepherd, angel of my life, the part of me that was cut away, the fixed, irrevocable light of my soul.

“She said she has a lot to tell us. She’s coming now, she’s probably almost at the door. I’m going to make us all some breakfast. She knew things, Kenz, I don’t fucking know--I feel like she knows everything about us. You’ll see. Even through the screen I could feel her power. It was coppery-purple, like a sheen all over her...come downstairs when you’re ready, okay, baby? Take your time. I can feel it, can you feel it?”

“Yes, baby, yes. I can feel it so much I can hardly breathe.” Tears were in her eyes; he kissed her again, and Kenzie clung to him, her softness overwhelming to him, and for a moment he wished he could throw her down into the bed, kiss every inch of her nakedness, every tiny secret place of her heart. Then they broke apart; Duncan knew as he could feel she did that the time was upon them, and his adorations would have to come later. 

The time when we find out who we really are.

Kenzie slid away from him towards the edge of the bed and he grasped her waist, helping her down--she stood there, naked and shivering in some phantom breeze, her golden hair falling down her back in a shimmering wave, then she kneeled to her suitcase, tucking the strands that fell into her eyes behind her ears, looking away from him, determined. Duncan gathered up the bag of weed, the lighter, his grinder and his gold pipe from one of the laurel mantels where they’d left it yesterday, then went to the door, looking back at her again for a moment, trailing a hand through the side of his hair.

“Kenzie, baby--”

“Dunny, I know. I know. Just go downstairs, okay? I’ll be there soon. I know. I feel it too.”

He nodded inside her gold-flecked gaze, then turned away, sniffing back the tears he felt coming, trying to stave them. I feel the hand of destiny, and oh Fate, it’s heavy. It’s fearsome to behold it, to contemplate its weight, this Thing, this knowledge we’re about to be given.

Duncan heard a sharp, determined knock on the door downstairs then, and his breath caught. He ran down the hall, throwing himself down the stairs; he reached the door, flipping the double turning locks in fumbling fingers, yanked at the long handle--as he pulled the door wide a burst of golden sunlight drifted over his eyes, caught in the dappled trees. He lifted a hand to shield his face, and saw the woman standing there, silhouetted in a golden shroud that was like a holy halo around her. A halo, like Kenzie’s, Duncan thought. And then he heard her laugh again--and her laugh was even more beautiful now that he was standing before her. A laugh the angels would sigh to hear.

She reached out for him--Duncan felt frozen inside her dark-bright eyes, intensely focused on him beneath arched, graceful brows, the sharpness of her cheeks glowing dark sienna in the sun. She was immediately imposing; regal, her posture graceful, her poise intimidating and unmistakable. Her mouth smiled that radiantly white smile he’d glimpsed through the iPad screen; his breath caught to see it in the flesh, struck by her majesty, the expression on her staggeringly beautiful features, knowing, wise, and expectant. Her burgundy-colored blouse had long, drifting sleeves that fluttered in the slight wind, and her long black skirt fell to her ankles with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. On her feet were heeled knee-high boots in dark brown leather. Around her neck were what seemed to be a dozen necklaces, gold and silver chains mixed in with leather cords and multi-colored ropes of beads; a raven skull, the claws of unknown animals, the symbol of the waxing, full, and waning moons (like the one Kenzie has), the voluptuous shape of a woman, a huge pointed obsidian, and countless tiny quartz points.

“I see what she’s done to you, Evening Star,” she said, and Duncan felt his breath gasp, suddenly caught in his throat. That’s what Kenzie called me. Sword of the Evening Star. “Snatched you from the jaws of darkness in this world. And I am moved to see it. As I knew I would be. The time of your High Destiny has come.”

Her hand came around his; her touch was very warm and strong. As she stepped closer Duncan could smell myrrh and resin and musky vanilla. The urge of tears rose in him again--the woman clasped her other hand around his, so she was gripping it in both. Her face was about level to his chin in her heeled boots, and she looked up at him with an approving grace; she seems taller than me, though, he thought. The energy around her is so focused; so carefully, intricately controlled.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked, and heard the trembling in his voice.

“Rosemary Antigone Delacroix. High Priestess of Her Will. The Goddess, from whom all life in this universe flows; from whom the life in every universe flows. Mother of all, three-faced, infinite. Your mother, and mine, and the mother of the High Princess, the Hidden Sphere Herself, whom you are blessed to love. Infinitely blessed, sweet Prince, with whom you will heal this suffering world.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickling instantly, wildly. I knew it. I felt it. That she’s divine. That she’s holy.

“Please, come in.”

Rosemary’s smile lingered as she stepped past him, scattering its light over him; she moved into the house, beyond the staircase, her steps determined, her movements refined, hands clasped together in front of her, through the front room and towards the kitchen. She seemed to know where it was without needing to ask him, and Duncan followed, mesmerized by her. As they reached the kitchen Rosemary sat at the wooden island, reaching out for his hand again--this time, he knew, for the one that held the weed. He passed it all off to her and she sighed; the sound of her voice was deeply lovely, but he could hear the tinge of tiredness.

“Make me some eggs, would you, sugar? I like ‘em a little runny, lots of butter. And some of that turkey bacon I know you have in the fridge there.” Duncan stared for a moment, blinking as she rolled a big bud in her fingers, then began to sprinkle it inside his grinder. She paused, looking up at him expectantly. “And a big-ass coffee. I’ll pack this bowl. All three of us are going to need some fortification for these revelations.  Don’t you worry, your seer is here. I know you’ve been waiting, I feel it in this house, you filled it with your hopes and dreams and your confusion as soon as you got here. I feel it on your skin. You two have power unlike any I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t learned how to control it yet, that’s for certain. It’s zooming around in this space like it’s been snorting cocaine.”

Duncan turned as if waking out of a dream to the fridge, pulling out the eggs, bacon, and a stick of butter, retrieving a frying pan from a line of them against the wall, listening to the smooth clarity of her voice. Her energy seemed to be settling into the kitchen--dusky purple, warm, steady. He could almost see it, the way he could see Kenzie’s gold sometimes. She was taking the edge off him--bringing him down to her calmness, her certainty.

“So...Rosemary. Who--what--how--” He went to the Keurig that sat on the counter, starting a cup, then brought a hand absently to his chin, looking back at her again. She was deftly packing the bowl to the brim, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “How did you...what did She...”

The Goddess, triple-faced, infinite.

“Shhh, blue-eyed Prince. You need to take it slow. All of this--” she gestured around the kitchen, but Duncan knew she meant all of it--the cabin, the lake, the forest with the clearing of black oaks, the field open to the stars--”this place is potent, full of your power, like a power outlet for your magicks. It’s why they’ve been so strong since you got here. This is an in-between place, and anyone who has even a little bit of the power you two have can feel it. But for the High Princess and her sweet consort, it’s like being given an electric shock--one that goes on and on. It’s the reason your lusts have been so potent, too.”

Duncan blushed at that. Lately, mine always are.

She smiled at him, knowing, then lit the bowl and breathed deeply from it, blowing out in a satisfied stream, leaning back against the wooden island.

“Hoo, that’s some good rich people shit,” she hummed. “Ooph, that’s good. Just what I needed, Praise be to Her. Thank you, Mother.”

Duncan got to work on the eggs, carefully cracking two into the pan and slipping two sides of the bacon next to them, deftly pressing the edges of the egg whites with a steel spatula. The smell made his stomach immediately begin to rumble; she’s right, we definitely need to eat before we get into all of this. All...of what?

“You two.” He could hear Rosemary laughing a little now from where his back was turned. “You two have burst upon the world like a garden. The media was not prepared. The public was not prepared. The world is not prepared, but they will get prepared--real quick. The current of time has turned towards fortune. And that, my dear Prince, is a beautiful thing. Beautiful beyond words. That I have lived to see this time is a great blessing.”

“Rosemary, what do you mean? How did you find us here?”

“Wait for her. For the Princess. The little golden goddess. Then I’ll begin.”

Duncan pulled down a plate and slipped the eggs onto it, a little runny, glassy with butter as she had asked. He flipped the bacon to let it fry for a bit longer, and brought the plate over to Rosemary, who appraised him with power drifting in her gaze. She took it, her warm hand brushing against his again; he felt the current pass through them, felt her strength, the depths of her knowledge touch his mind.

“You’ve been manifesting powers here, have you? And before you got here, too.”

“Fuck, yes. Non-stop, practically. I’ve been--transporting myself with my mind. Teleporting? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Transmutation. Salire per spatium. The ability to move, magically, instantly, from one space to another, without physically occupying the space between.” Rosemary took another long puff from Duncan’s gold pipe, then sliced into an egg with her fork, dipping it between her very white teeth. “Mm, baby. Perfect. You can fry an egg for certain.”

“Yeah. Yes. And Pyrokinesis. That’s what it’s called, right? The ability to conjure fire.”

“Create, control, manipulate. All of it. You can do all of those, I guarantee it. Try it.” She nodded to the stovetop, which Duncan had turned on manually. The bacon was sizzling, done--Duncan took a deep breath, then drifted his fingers close to the element, concentrated. Go back now. Go back. The fire went low, blue-white, and then died--the stovetop began to cool instantly.

“Mm--mm-mm,” Rosemary hummed. “Lovely. I can do a little myself, but nothing so smooth as that. That’s lovely. And I can only imagine what she’s been doing.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rosemary. She is so beautiful. I can’t even tell you…”

“You’re biased, baby blue, but I’m sure you’re right. Any other things you’ve found out you can do?”

“She can sense my emotions over long distances...I found out something I hadn’t known the other day that really upset me, and she felt my emotions even though we were on opposite sides of the city. And...we can read each other’s thoughts. You’re the first person who knows that, and I don’t even know who you are. But...yeah. It’s like colors--she looks and feels like gold...she says mine is blue. I can kind of see mine, sometimes, if the emotion is really strong. Now that she’s here. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do any of this before. Before we met.”

Duncan brought the bacon over to Rosemary’s plate and slid it down from the pan. She immediately dipped a graceful hand to it, blowing on it, crunching it in her teeth. He brought her coffee over, starting one for Kenzie now. “I can hear little bits of other people’s thoughts now sometimes, when they’re really strong. I think Kenzie can do it almost all the time. And she can heal people--their bodies, their hearts, their anger. It looks like gold when she does that, too. She can sort of...press it into people, like she’s wrapping them in a blanket.”

He started more eggs in the pan, silent for a little while as Rosemary sipped her coffee. Then he went on.

“Two nights ago there was a Gala--”

“The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, everyone knows that, honey,” Rosemary cut him off. “You two are on the front page of a lot of shit since yesterday.”

Duncan winced, plating the other eggs and getting to work on more bacon. “Really? We turned our phones off before we left. We really wanted to just get away for a few days. It’s been...really intense since Kenzie and I found each other. The scrutiny’s been intense.”

“I understand, Duncan. When my task is done--that is, to tell you your destiny--I’ll be gone, for I have many duties, and you will have a little more time to be alone together. But the Goddess told me what to do, so I’m doing it. When She speaks, everyone best listen. Let me give you a warning. When the two of you go back--back to DC, I mean--the world will have changed. As if time opened a new window. You are on the path now, one heading towards a bright future, not just for you and Mackenzie, but for this universe. There are many--universes, I mean. Not all of them are kind, or light, or good, some of them have no light, and some have a depth of both. This universe has much darkness, but like clouds parting from the sun, your union here will bring transcendent light. As there is a balance of greater darkness in other universes, this one will swing to the light. A major obstacle will have passed when you return, but there will be a new onslaught of attention focused on you and Mackenzie. You will need to be her sword at every turn; you will bow to her light and others will follow your example. So gather your strength.”

Duncan’s head was pounding. What does any of that even mean? Other universes?

“Are you talking about...quantum theory? Like, parallel universes?”

At that moment Duncan heard a soft sound in the doorway--he looked up to see Kenzie coming into the kitchen on bare feet. She was tucking her chestnut-golden hair behind her ear, her face nervously turned down, eyes huge, fingers at her mouth; she wore a floor-length white linen dress, covered in a print of pale pinkish roses, with a dipping neck and short, puffed sleeves. The Tiffany moon glinted at her throat; as she moved her arm the Cartier bracelet flashed there in gold and diamond. Rosemary had turned to her, and Kenzie’s eyes were wide on the other woman. God she’s so beautiful so beautiful so powerful I can feel her lovely power like a field of a thousand violets, like the water flowing out from the sea...Duncan could hear Kenzie’s thoughts falling out of her in a long stream.

Rosemary’s face was cast into an immediate affection--a curious wonder. Her mouth dipped open, away from the black coffee cup which had been poised at her mouth a moment before, and she sighed; the sigh of relief that comes after a long, anticipatory wait.

“Child. Sweet child of heaven.”

“Hi,” Kenzie whispered. She stopped in front of Rosemary, and the woman reached out her beautiful dark fingers. Kenzie slipped her small hands against Rosemary’s; Duncan felt speechless, his heart feeling crushed by the moment, his eyes immediately blurred by tears.

“I am Rosemary Delacroix, and I am a mouthpiece for Her, the three-headed, the absolute, the Goddess. She has many names. Time. The universe. God. Goddess. Fate. Destiny. But she is the one who brought all life to be, kindled it, nurtured it, tended to it. She is the one who remakes life, rebuilds it, cycles it through every age, in every place, in every aspect. She made me; she made you and your sweet blue-eyed Prince from the stars burning like these diamonds, many eons ago.” Rosemary’s finger drifted to the bracelet; her dark eyes glanced up at the one on Duncan’s wrist, knowingly, and he shivered. “She made the thread that tethered you together, Mackenzie Stone and Duncan Shepherd, long ago, before she made Time, because you, sweet High Princess, asked her to. You loved him; you asked to be together always. And she granted your wish. Because you were--you are--beloved in the sight of heaven. You are a High Princess of Her Body, and of the Garden. You are the Hidden Sphere.”

Long, aching tears fell from Kenzie’s cheeks--she glanced over to Duncan, biting her trembling lip, her thoughts crushed gold. I do love him. I do love you, Duncan, more than anything. I do love you. I love you. This woman knows--knows I’m divine, the way you said you knew. The way I can feel it, now, and I can’t find the words.

“It’s fine to cry, honey. It’s fine. You cry as much as you want, mmhm? Come sit with me, angel baby. You come sit with me and let me bask in your sweet light. I can feel it now, like taking a bath in a pool of gold. Goddess, praise be. That’s just fucking lovely. Praise be to Her. She made the masterpiece, sweet sugar, in you--that gold, like a waterfall. What a soul.”

“Duncan’s the one who looks like a masterpiece to me,” Kenzie was laughing a little through her tears, settling down on the bench next to Rosemary, who had dipped a long arm under Kenzie’s elbow to steady her. Duncan brought Kenzie’s breakfast over to her, trying to hide the tears on his cheek with a swift hand--she looked up at him, biting her lip, nodding. “Thanks baby,” she whispered. I love you so much, he heard her thought. I’m not afraid.

“What do you mean, asked to be together always?” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “Are you saying there’s a goddess...that controls the universe, and Kenzie is...what, her daughter?”

Rosemary looked at him for a long moment, her eyes staggering with depth. For a time Duncan felt lost, mesmerized inside them; like the whirling gold galaxies he’d seen in Kenzie’s eyes in the dream, or the blue nebulas she said she saw in his, he felt he could see violet supernovas, cascades of cosmic dust in Rosemary’s gaze for a moment. Something infinite and eternal. Something constant, and huge beyond imagining.

“Make yourself some breakfast first, Duncan. You’re going to need something in your stomach before we really begin. I want both of you to know right now--there is much to tell. It will take some time. My heart is full of all of it. I need your strength, my dear one, to help me tell you everything.” Rosemary pulled Kenzie’s hand into her lap again, gripping it with strong fingers. Kenzie was nodding--a silent, secret thought seemed to pass between them, one Duncan could not see or hear in his mind. He felt immediately frustrated to be cut off from them; then he heard Kenzie speak to him alone in gold waves: be patient, baby, beloved, be patient, okay? Take a breath, the kind you showed me after my nightmare, when you held me so sweetly.

Their eyes met; Rosemary’s gaze shifted between them. Okay baby, Duncan thought, breathing in through his nose, holding it, breathing out. He turned back to his eggs, his stomach in knots.

“To be near both of you gives me strength already.” Rosemary’s face clouded with emotion; she seemed close to tears, and raised the coffee cup to her face again to gather her composure. “The Goddess has made all things in perfect balance, the light and dark, the day and night, and both of you--the perfect balance of these things, the great duality of her creations. To be here with you is to behold her Wonders. Eat, child.” Rosemary gestured to Kenzie’s plate, and Kenzie nodded, picking up a piece of the bacon, biting into it. Duncan brought his own breakfast over to the island, and sat carefully, across from her, reaching out his hand. Kenzie took it, her eyes wildly bright.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, Dunny, she thought.

Mine too, my sweet Kenzie. Oh, god. Goddess. Whoever is listening. The Fates who have been guiding us…

“Rosemary,” Duncan said, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Since we met, I keep going back to this one image, of the Fates, you know, like in mythology--Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. I keep seeing them in my mind’s eye, seeing them weaving this thread for us, the one that brought us together. Does that mean something?”

Rosemary finished the food on her plate, sighed a little, contentedly, and brought his gold pipe up to her lips again, breathing deeply. She dipped a hand under her chin, her eyes taking on a serene expression.

“It’s Her. She is the Fates. The Goddess--She has three faces. Many know Her by them, and worship Her in these aspects, She has many names. She is three-headed in that way; She is never totally the same from one moment to the next. When She came to me this time, She was very young and beautiful--Her skin like the tanned sand under a long sun--Her eyes bright in unbroken joy, her body smooth. But She does not always appear this way. Her aspect is ever-changing, the color of Her skin, Her hair, Her eyes, Her face; when I see Her, I feel it is Her, for She never appears the same. Sometimes She is very old, and sometimes She is a mother, her belly swollen, and sometimes She is not a woman at all, not entirely--She is some other great thing, made of stars and strange matter. I’ve seen Her this way, in dreams.”

She passed the pipe to Kenzie, and Kenzie took it in her small hands, head dipping to breathe in from it. Kenzie was still crying--Duncan’s fingers slid over her palm, sending the strongest wave of comfort he could into her. I love you, baby, I love you, everything is okay, everything’s going to be okay, better than okay…

“The Fates are her aspects--all three are Her. You thought of them because you thought of Her--because you knew, you know it was She who brought the two of you together. Your destiny--the High Destiny, as it has been called--was written when the stars were new. Mackenzie Stone, you are the High Princess of her Heaven. You were an Angel, once, Exalted; there is no earthly word for what you were, but an Angel is the closest word to it. You were the most divine of all. You were loved above all by Her in her heaven; and you still are. I know you feel that, child. I know you know you were loved so. And that you are loved--so much. Her eyes have looked down on you from her heaven and thought Beloved, for millions of years.”

“Yes,” and Kenzie was crying earnestly, her lips trembling as she spoke, shoulders shaking, eyes awash in tears. “Yes, Rosemary, I know. I can feel it.” Duncan gripped her hand tightly, aching to hold her; her fingers clutched him, like he was her only tether in a vast ocean.

“Before conceivable time, you fell in love.” Rosemary nodded to Duncan. “You fell in love with him. Listen to me, Duncan: you too were an Exalted being, an Angel, like Mackenzie. They called you the Sword of the Evening Star, as She has told me. You were a Knight--like a Knight, a Prince in the service of Their holy protection--of Her Holy Court; the fairest of all of her Knights, who are very fair indeed, fair beyond earthly eyes. There is a great Darkness in the universe--in the pantheon of universes. It aches to snuff out the light of Her Heaven, the love that dwells there. Some call it the Devil; Satan; Lucifer. He--It--has many names. But It is mostly the Darkness; the energy that must juxtapose her Light. It wishes, eternally, to destroy Her. But her Knights hold it at bay; her fighters, her warriors, her faithful. In that age, you fought for Her Light, and prevailed many times. She loves you very much. She chose you from many to lead the protection of her Sphere; the Heaven she made, long ago. It is Hidden from that Darkness, made safe through the power of her Grace. Get me some water, Duncan, honey.”

Duncan stood, feeling dizzy, going to the fridge. A Knight for a Goddess. A Warrior Prince. He couldn’t even feel incredulous--he was beyond disbelief. Whatever Rosemary is saying is true, he knew. She knows everything--and she has to tell us. My inability to understand doesn’t make any of this impossible. It just makes my ability to conceive it inadequate.

“Each time you are reincarnated--yes, Mackenzie, reincarnated--” Rosemary said, as Kenzie let out a tiny gasp. “The Darkness, in His cunning, tries to get at you. Sometimes, He has succeeded. As there is Feminine energy in the universes, there is also Masculine energy; there is an endless battle of wills, balance of energies. Their duality is not fixed, rather it shifts and changes from universe to universe, age to age. Yes, Duncan, quantum theory, as it’s called--there are many parallel universes next to this one. Infinite universes, in fact, beyond our ability to conceive. A version of you--both of you--exists in each universe. And as there are many universes, there are many lives you have lived before this one, in this universe, as well. There is another life you have glimpsed here, a life you lived in the past--”

“The Mirror,” Kenzie said, softly. Her eyes were staring into Rosemary’s face, but Duncan could see that her thoughts were fixated on the vast golden Mirror he knew was resting silently in the penthouse bedroom, many miles away, a relic to a past that had been unknown to them until this moment. Frederick knew, he thought. He may not have totally understood, but he knew it was special, that it was magical, and that it was always ours.

“Yes, chickadee, sweet honey,” Rosemary sipped her coffee again, cradling it in her graceful red-nailed hands. “That Mirror belonged to you in another life--you were royalty then, a Viscountess, a powerful witch--that is, a seer for Her--at that time too, with many of the skills you are manifesting now. And in that time you found each other as well, but there was an accident; you both were murdered in the Revolution at that time, in the streets of Paris. And so time turned to another place, another page--and your spirits moved on. But the Mirror has magick. It’s no ordinary Mirror. There are strands of the Golden Sphere in it; strands of the divine instrument given to you by the Goddess, Mackenzie, when you were in her Heaven, in her embrace. A gift that symbolized her love, and her Heaven, which will always be your home. When you were cast to earth when the Law of Time was written, the Sphere fell with you, but it was mostly destroyed when the Darkness tried to rend it. What remained--the fragments left over--were made into the Mirror by one of her seers of old; a disciple of her Light, as I am. And so it will always find you in this world, too, for it cannot be destroyed until this world ends.”

Duncan was standing beside the fridge, still holding it open, the water glass poised in his hand, frozen in her words. Kenzie gaped at Rosemary with her mouth dipped open, her golden hair falling around her cheeks. Rosemary glanced between them, then beckoned to Duncan, and said.

“But that is the Law for the two of you. To exist, always, and find each other, always, into eternity, until the Law of Time is over, when you will return to the Sphere of her Grace. No one knows when that will be, or if it will ever be. That I do not know. I only see small bits and pieces of the future, and their shape is always strange to me.”

Duncan’s hand was shaking as he brought the glass he’d filled to Rosemary--but her hand was steady, and she smiled up at him, reassuringly. I think for now I just need to listen, and try to understand, he thought. I can’t even imagine anything to say. Just please hold my hand, baby.

Kenzie reached out again as he sat, twining her fingers through his tightly. She brought another slice of bacon to her lips, eating despite her tears. Duncan moved his fork to his plate, resolved to the same. They ate quietly as Rosemary went on. What else can we do.

“You met, as was meant to happen, in the Garden of All Delights, where the known universes were all born. It’s a very beautiful place--beautiful beyond all conceivable beauty to our pitiful human eyes. It’s made of colors--oh, colors you can’t imagine.”

Those colors I saw in my dreams.

“Like this universe, Duncan, when you laid eyes on Mackenzie there, the first time, you knew she was your love for all time. There you stayed together for eons by our measure of time. The Goddess saw, and She smiled to see your perfect happiness--the selflessness of your love for Her Princess, Her Joy, Her Golden Child, and Her selfless love for you, the perfect embodiment of Her Grace. Your Names, in that perfect state--there aren’t words for them. She didn’t tell them to me, and if She had I could not speak of them. But you know them, in your secret, hidden hearts. They are beyond all human language. I know She’s shown you the forms you had then in a dream--and so you know those forms are beyond human comprehension, nearly beyond description. Please know that those are your true forms. There is more time before you adopt them again, but someday you will return to them again. In some other age.”

Yes, Duncan thought; he knew. Kenzie with her white-gold hair with a thousand flowers, each one a universe. Her eyes like golden galaxies. Her clothing made of impossible geometry. Her wings inconceivable and more delicate than those of any beast on earth. He could feel Kenzie thinking similarly of what she had seen of him in her side of the dream; his long golden hair and eyes like blue nebulas floating in ether, his shining aegis, impossibly slender and delicate, the strange wonder of his own wings.

“When the laws of the universe, of Time, were written, it was dictated that you--you, Mackenzie, and you, Duncan, would always find each other. In every conceivable universe, and every conceivable age. The Goddess, infinite in Her wisdom and mercy, could not spare you from the Great Law--the law of pain, death, and rebirth--but She could ensure that as the cycle of all things goes on, you would find each other in perpetuity. That you would never long be parted from one another. And Her law has been proven true, as it ever was, in Her Grace. I promise you, in every time, in every age, in every universe, you’ve found each other; for the places in which you haven’t yet, you will. And each time either of you dies--for you have both died countless deaths, as I have, as every living soul has--the cycle begins anew. You cannot long be separated. The Old Law of your love--the Great Love, true as dawn--is known and honored for all time.”

“You mean--Rosemary, do you really mean--we’ll always find each other, no matter what?” Duncan clutched at Kenzie’s fingers as he spoke, looking between them.

“No matter what, I promise you. You were the first Soulmates; in your love was written the Law.”

Duncan took the golden pipe from Kenzie’s hands, which were shaking like leaves in caught in a strong wind--he could see his own shaking too, but felt strangely removed from them, lost in the incomprehensibility of Rosemary’s words. He lit the bowl, breathing deeply, holding the smoke inside his lungs for a long moment--it settled into them, and he breathed out, counting. 1, 2, 3, 4...he handed the bowl, still lit, to Kenzie, who breathed from it again. Her tears seemed to dissipate, soften, her shaking fading into calm stillness.

“Rosemary, can we go outside? There’s a gazebo out there--it’s lovely. We can look at the lake. I think Kenzie needs some fresh air.” Kenzie glanced at Duncan with eyes filled with overwhelming affection as he said this. Rosemary nodded, her aspect calming, soothing, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of her words. This is truly a woman of exquisite power. “You bring that bowl, honey.” She reached for Kenzie’s hand and helped her up.

They all made their way out onto the deck and down the stone path, to where the gazebo lay in the pleasing solitude of the early afternoon. Duncan could see a flock of ducks swimming on the surface of the middle of the lake, beyond where the canoe creaked with a pleasant rhythm; there were more clouds in the sky today than yesterday, but it was still bright and warm, the breeze present again. Rosemary helped Kenzie onto one end of the long couch; Kenzie’s face was pale and her hands still seemed to be trembling. Rosemary moved to the other end, and Duncan knew innately she was leaving them space. Space to be together; to hold each other. He felt a wave of gratitude wash out from him towards the beautiful seer, this woman who had appeared as if out of thin air, by magic, in a car that had driven for an entire day, from thousands of miles away, to tell them impossible truths. He felt Rosemary’s drifting indigo-violet energy come against his, and knew she acknowledged his secret power, and his gratitude, as he acknowledged hers.

He slid next to Kenzie, his arms coming around her tightly, his nose falling against her hair to breathe her in. Roses, vetiver, geranium. Her own underlying musk, the heady scent of her and her alone. Kenzie’s head fell against his chest, her arms gripping him at the waist. Kenzie, we’ll always find each other, no matter what. I could die, I could shout into the sky, I could cry and never stop crying. My heart is full of you. My happiness in this knowledge is absolute. Kenzie seemed beyond words, but the drift of her gold against him was so staggeringly lovely, so intense, he fought to breathe. My Persephone. Flower of the universe.

“Now. There’s a lot more She told me to tell you. Listen carefully, my sweet moon children,” and Duncan heard Kenzie’s thought, like a memory, two moon children in love--

“As I told you a little bit ago--there is a great Darkness in the universe, in the pantheon of universes. As She is older than Time, so is the Darkness. He--It--has a far-reaching hand. You know that Darkness in this world; but this world, unlike others, does not have the depth of power that allows it full sway. The magic in this universe is not as vast as it is in others; here it exists in the hidden aspects. Your coming together has brought some of that magic to life here, but it is finite, and it has limits. There are other universes where your power is stronger, but the Darkness is stronger in those universes, too.”

“We’ve been having these dreams...” Kenzie said in a small voice. The air seemed to be soothing her; the breeze ruffled her hair as Duncan’s hands drifted against its softness.

Rosemary was nodding. “The Darkness had you in its grip here, Duncan, and it was attempting to tighten that grip. Your family in this world, its notoriety, its intentions--they have long been conspiring with the Darkness, long been courting its gifts. Your adopted mother, your uncle; they have done terrible things in the name of their own desires, and they wished to drag you into the shadows with them. They almost succeeded; you were almost fooled. But the Old Law prevailed, as it always does, one way or another. That Law is Love; that Law is Mackenzie; that Law is your High Destiny. The Goddess knew that your love would defeat that Darkness every time. And it always will. The Law she wrote is strong and it will hold. But the means by which it holds is never clear until you meet.”

Rosemary had brought her water glass out with them, and sipped at it for a moment, pausing. Her face turned to the lake; as she gazed at it, she smiled, but her smile had some sadness threaded into it. It was a smile that knew the bittersweet taste of life--knew the balance was impregnable.

“There are universes where your ending is not a happy one, I’m afraid. Despite finding each other, you don’t always get to be together this way. You suffer acutely in some; you die. But the death is written too--the death comes at your own hands, or you die together. It’s the Law; if you cannot be together, you must begin again, which means you first must be taken out of that time, the obstacle therefore removed. Duncan, I must tell you; there are universes where the Darkness claims you. And in some of them, in some of those lives, you cannot be saved but through death.”

Duncan felt a heavy hand settle on his heart--felt the breath drift out of his body as he gasped for air. Kenzie held him closer, and he heard the tiny sound of her sob against him. Oh baby, sweet Kenzie, please don’t cry so. Don’t cry for me that way. I love you. Here, we’re together. Please don’t cry. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Is that what the dreams mean?” he asked, cradling Kenzie’s shivering body against his. He felt the terrible heat of her tears soaking through his shirt, her face turned into him, hidden, overcome.

“Yes. They are another life. Another universe. One where your ending is not a happy one. One where Kenzie’s love saves you; as it did here, as it ever does; but not to such happy ends, I’m afraid. It’s just one example of the window of infinite lives you have lived, lives you are living as we speak, in other places, in other universes. That life, that universe, is particularly potent. The magick there is much stronger than the magick here. It encircles that world like a dense fog; it surrounds it and seeps into everything. There you have powers beyond imagining, both of you. The power to raise the dead. The power to turn time backwards. The power to change the shape of things; things that should otherwise be immutable. Or destroy them entirely, completely--utterly.”

“Blue butterflies out of rose petals,” Kenzie whispered. “You making snow, Duncan.”

“Yes,” he whispered against her hair. You, Kenzie, blood on your mouth, turning back time.

“The power to travel to Hell, even, Descensum; to the pit of Darkness. Because there, Duncan, you are a being of Darkness. In that world, you are Michael, the Son of Darkness--in that world, the Darkness claimed you when you were born into it, and the Goddess cannot reach you. There, you are a powerful conjurer, a warlock, and Kenzie--Mallory, as you are called there--you are a powerful witch, in fact, the most powerful of all witches in that world, more powerful than the witches of any other world. A Supreme. Kenzie does not save you in life in that world, however; but through your death. So it is written.”

Duncan felt unable to speak; I think I knew that. I think I knew, when I had that dream on the beach, the dream where I was dying, and grandma told me to go to Hell. And Kenzie was there, her hair dark on her shoulders, she was that other version of herself, the Mallory self, and she held me, and I died.

“My nightmare,” Kenzie burst into a sob again, the wail in her voice making Duncan bury his face, his eyes closing, against her hair, making his heart clench until he felt as though he would suffocate in the agony of her sadness. “My nightmare. That man with your face, Duncan--that man was you in that place, that man was you, consumed, that was real, oh, no, oh no, no--”

Duncan couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; could only hold her, his heart pressed down with the depth of her sadness, determined to hold her as long as she needed him to. Even for that other me, the depth of her grace is staggering. The immensity of her love. I feel lost inside it; it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. Whatever darkness is in me, no matter where I am, who I am, it’s nothing next to her light. I know that. Absolutely. I’d die a thousand times for you, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven. A million times. I’ll die for eternity to be with you for just a moment. That, I promise you. I swear it. I will worship and love you endlessly, as I promised to, when we were Exalted--as we will be again one day. I know I will always recognize your soul.

“Sweet golden child of Her Grace,” Rosemary said, staring at Kenzie with violet, soothing warmth. “Do not despair--there is no need for it. You save him in every world. Your love is what saves him. Reach out with your heart into every hidden place. You know it’s true. There is no place your love cannot reach him. And death is not the end. In her Will, it is never really the end. And here--” Rosemary gestured out onto the lake, to the sky beyond. “Here, in this world, in this life, you’ve been infinitely blessed. In this world, you get to be together; truly together. And not only that. Not only have you found each other, basked in each other, found a haven hidden from the eyes of the world in which to feed each other in power and affection. In this world you have been given even more, for the Goddess does not take away in one world what she doesn’t bestow again in another. Here, you have worldly riches, too, is that not so?”

Yes.

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered. “That was our destiny all along, too, wasn’t it?”

Rosemary gazed at him, and her expression was omniscient in the stretch of this moment; it kindled his spirit up, thrilling his nerves, achingly beautiful against his soul. Yes. That was the plan all along. That not only would you heal each other infinitely, here; you would, together, heal this world, and that, too, would be your happiness.

Kenzie had begun to quiet against him; she turned her tear-stained face up to him, and her eyes glittered unbearably in the afternoon light: gold, russet forest, green like growing leaves.

“The High Destiny,” she whispered. Duncan brought his hand up, wiping under her eyes, pressing the dampness into his shirt, cradling her face.

“Yes, sweet golden honey.” Rosemary was grinning; her face was effervescent in its beauty. She reached for the golden pipe again from where Duncan had set it on the low table beside the lantern, raising it languidly to her chin. “Praise be to Her, in whose eyes all is made clear and wondrous, three-faced, sweet as blessed wine. Your High Destiny is to bring a long peace into this world. And when others in this world behold you together, that is what they see. Your divinity, your goodness, and their redemption.” Duncan continued to look down at Kenzie--she stared at him with a dawning happiness spreading over her face that made him clutch her cheek, dip his mouth to kiss her, uncaring that Rosemary watched--Kenzie, my Kenzie, oh my Kenzie--

Rosemary breathed in another long drag of the gold pipe. Then she continued to speak, her legs crossed with ease, her hand drifting against her many necklaces, thumb trailing at the obsidian, the raven skull.

“I know what’s coming, what’s at the door; by the time you return to the Capital City, Bill Shepherd will have been dead for a day. Yesterday, he signed his Will, at Annette Shepherd’s behest. Duncan: you are now the sole heir of Shepherd Unlimited and all its holdings. Bill Shepherd, as is his way, has over $15 billion dollars in overseas assets that he hasn’t been filing with his taxes. Those assets will be yours in a few hours’ time. With Shepherd Unlimited LLC and the tools at its disposal, it is your High Destiny, Duncan and Mackenzie, to heal this world.”

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered.

“Holy shit,” he felt Kenzie grip his shirt with her little tear-stained hands. “Duncan, oh my goddess. We knew. We felt it all along. We felt our destiny.”

“And Praise be to Her,” Rosemary said, and then she laughed; she laughed long and low, and her voice was like honey, and it seemed to fall into Duncan’s mind like a crashing, heady wine. Her laugh rang out onto the lake, stirring the ducks to flight; as they flapped up from the water, the sun dappled in their water-flecked wings, turning to patterns of gold.

-------

It was late now, the light growing low as it had the night before, gradually then all at once, and Duncan had conjured another fire in the copper pit. This one, if anything, was even brighter and more beautiful than the one before; it was almost transparent, burning wildly high and hot, kindled in the euphoria of his mood. Now that he knew the powers they had were real, not only real, but destined, he felt confident in the ability to strengthen them; felt confident in their reality. I’ve been blessed, and so I’ll use my blessings. I can see the shape of these powers now, their outline like a lingering vision after a bright burst of light. I was destined to have them, and so I’ll use them as wisely as I can.

They had all smoked so much of the weed through the rest of the afternoon he had begun to feel untethered from his body, lost in the softness of Kenzie’s touch, the sweet smell of the space under her ear and along her neck. Rosemary didn’t seem to mind, skillfully ignoring them as they kissed again and again, drifted their hands along each other lazily through the rest of the afternoon. Duncan felt split between his gratitude towards Rosemary and the intensity of his desire for Kenzie--he had been fighting off the urge to slide his hand up her bare leg under the dress for hours, and as he sat in one of the wicker chairs by the fire, watching Kenzie and Rosemary dance a few paces away on the lawn amid the fireflies, the strains of Redbone’s Witch-queen of New Orleans pumping through the outdoor speakers, he sent out drifts of his deep need towards her. She was spinning in the long rosy dress, her chin tilted up and the diamond moon flashing on her neck, his black cardigan falling off one of her shoulders--her hair was tossed by wind and sweat glinted at her temples, and all he could think of was how radiantly lovely she was; High Princess of Heaven, Goddess of the Golden Bower, Angel of the Hidden Sphere, my High Destiny, forevermore, everlong, no worship is ever enough. And now you’re going to marry me. And I know what kind of ring I’m going to give you. A moonstone. My moon, everlasting.

She’ll put a spell on you, she’ll put a spell on you

He tried to contemplate the wonder of everything that had happened in the past two days; of the past few weeks. It’s truly only been a few weeks? It felt like years, and also like no time at all, like hours. He tried to contemplate the immensity of time they’d loved each other, and the smallness of the time they’d been able to love each other in this present--felt too lost in it, had to move his thoughts away. He tried to conjure up the image of the Fates in his mind, knowing now that it was Her, aspects of Her, the spectrum of Her face. Too stoned, sorry. Just wanna fuck my baby. So fucking much. Forgive me, Goddess. He grinned to himself, into his hand. I know you do. I can feel that you forgive me.

Tho' she'll never return all the Cajuns knew, a witch-queen never dies

Kenzie and Rosemary were gripping each other’s arms now, whirling in a circle, both laughing uproariously. Kenzie tumbled to the ground, throwing her head back and laughing up into the sky, bleeding out into blue darkness. Rosemary clutched her belly and laughed up at the sky too.

“Oh Goddess, to be alive,” she crowed. Duncan looked up to her from his seat, grinning. Rosemary had told them the story that afternoon of how she had found the Goddess when she was young--had gone into a cave in the swamps of New Orleans as a young girl, finding a bower of strange golden flowers growing there, had had a vision of Her, as an old woman, wizened with the ages and also inconceivable, told her of her power to conjure and to incite light in others, kindle their dreams and hopes, their destinies. Another Thin Place, he thought, like that balcony, or our circle of oaks. They had made more of the chicken and other vegetables in the cooker, a charcuterie spread out on the deck table, and had been nibbling at it for a hours between the weed and glasses of wine--now the day was hazy and drifting away, and Duncan felt lost in the happiness of it; absolutely found in it. Rosemary tumbled herself into one of the wicker chairs across from him, her feet dipping up over one of the arms. She gazed into the fire, a serene expression in her eyes.

“Evening Star, you sure can make one hell of a fire,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “It smells so sweet and feels so nice on my poor aching bones, thank you very much. The Goddess knows I put the work in since yesterday to find y’all, now she’s giving me a break, and Blessed Be.”

“Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming all this way--for telling us everything. Who we are. What we’re meant to do.” Kenzie had heaved herself up from the ground and was skipping over to him, throwing herself into his lap and lifting her mouth up to kiss him as he spoke. He cradled her little body against him; her eyes glittered, her thoughts achingly sweet. To be held by you, baby, is the sweetest and most beautiful of anything. My Evening Star. My Hades who I plucked from darkness. You owe me so many kisses.

Oh I do, do I-- He dipped his mouth down onto hers again; he could feel Rosemary’s eyes on them, slitted, an adoration and pride in her aspect that he could feel as though it were visible. He knew she thought they were infinitely beautiful--the thought was a feeling of warm violet that emanated out from her; and I agree, if only because being loved and loving her so much has made me beautiful from within, he thought. I can feel the beauty in everything because of her.

“Rosemary,” and Kenzie turned her face away, looking over at the other woman’s beautiful cocoa skin, shimmering like soft copper in the firelight.

“Yes, golden honey,” Rosemary murmured, turning her face up a little, her eyes closed from tiredness, peaceful in the quiet of the crackling fire.

“What do the thin places mean?”

“Thin places?” Rosemary’s eyes opened a little, meeting her eyes.

“In the woods there’s a clearing. It’s surrounded by these huge black oak trees, and they’re all growing together, in a weird, tight circle. Inside it are so many wildflowers,” Kenzie laid her head on Duncan’s chest, under his chin, “and they’re growing in a spiral, like, I dunno, like they mean something, time or the universe, something like that. We were there yesterday, and…”

Kenzie blushed, trailing off.

“You fucked there.”

“Yeah. And it was strange--I mean, it felt like--Dunny, how would you describe it--”

“Like we were untethered from the earth for a little while,” Duncan said, his hand drifting against Kenzie’s thigh, under her breast, holding her against him, gazing into the fire. “Like we were in some kind of between place. Between this world and another one.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose the Thin Places, as you say, have many names. I call them The Veil, because they aren’t really places as much as doorways, gateways, the between of one place and another. The Goddess has tethered every universe together with threads--energy that passes from one place to another, acting as a bridge--and sometimes the threads wear thin; I suppose Thin Place is a well-suited name. As you are so close to your divinity still, these places are more obvious to you than to other people.”

“The night we met, we were on this balcony, with all these roses, and I think it was one of those places,” Kenzie was murmuring, eyes glittering on him, close to tears again. “It was thin--I could see him, Rosemary. I could see into his soul. I knew how beautiful he was inside. It was like a lamp shining out of a lighthouse. He said hi and he was looking at me like he knew me, like he hadn’t seen me in a long time and had missed me. And my heart just--stopped. I felt like he had set me on fire, wonderful fire, like this.” She looked at the fire Duncan had made--made with my mind, my senses, my will, for you. His heart twinged, reached out for her.

“The heart knows what nothing else can tell you,” Rosemary murmured, her voice growing soft again in her sleepiness. “It was only a matter of time before you found each other again.”

“Sometimes I think I see a golden thread between us,” Duncan said softly.

“The Goddess has tethered you this way. Since you are so close to her--because she loves you both so dearly--you can see the innerworkings of her magicks sometimes. They are not conceivable to human eyes. You’re feeling them. For all her works speak to the inner self, the hidden senses.”

“Rosemary,” Kenzie started again, and then Duncan heard the tears in her voice, cutting her words off. Her face turned into the crook of his arm--he felt her cheek shuddering there.

“Shh, Kenz, it’s okay, Kenzie,” he whispered into her. She nodded.

“Rosemary, thank you.”

But Rosemary didn’t reply--she was sleeping softly now, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hand dipped under her jaw. She was magnificently beautiful in the glossy sheen of the firelight, her dark skin illuminated, her sunset-colored scarf glowing, her obsidian and quartz stones shimmering, feet bare now, and grass-stained; she looks like a painting, Duncan thought, oh that Waterhouse had painted her, Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, who has given us so much joy in so little time. Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you. Now, we’ll let you sleep. I only hope I can give you something in return--and soon. You and everyone who has surrounded us, helped us, comforted us, shielded us.

“Princess Kenzie, let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. Kenzie’s eyes turned up to him, her mouth dipping open. Her hair fell down behind his arm, a sheet of gold. He felt wildly awake; acutely aware of the softness and the scent of her. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I want you so much. Take a bath with me, angel. Please?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, a laugh playing at her mouth. “Okay, but I wanna read stories to each other after we fuck. You have to promise we can read stories after.”

“We can read stories for as long as you want, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“What should we do, baby--about everything? We already know what’s going to happen. Rosemary told us. When we go back--”

“Shhh,” and he pressed his mouth, shivering, aching, against hers, intent to worship her, pulling her chin up insistently to reach her, his hands falling against the sweet softness of the dress over her breast. “Tonight, let’s just think about how divine we are, and how lucky we are, and how beautiful the night is, and how beautiful everything is, the stars, the lake, and you--” and she was nodding into him, climbing up to straddle him, the firelight licking its shadows against her hair, over her skin. “And you, baby,” she whispered. “My Evening Star. Goddess, I love that--”

“I’m gonna find you the most beautiful garden house on earth, Princess Kenzie,” he was whispering into her throat, his tongue licking out to the sweet saltiness of her sun-kissed sweat there, and he knew he meant it, knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it, “and together we’re gonna plant the most beautiful garden and so many flowers you can use them for a bed, and I’ll get you as many horses as you want, and I’ll read to you every night, kiss you a thousand times every day in our bed of a hundred of the softest blankets on earth, Kenzie, my golden goddess--”

“I want so many flowers for our wedding, baby,” she was murmuring against his mouth, the supple feeling of her skin driving unbearable waves of heat into his cock now. “I want a hundred dark red roses to hang over our bed between all the wildflowers, flowers in our hair, please, baby, please?”

“Fuck, baby, a thousand flowers, as many as your heart desires, I love you, anything you want, my flower of the universe, my Princess of the Garden of All Delights--fuck, baby, I wanna see it, I wanna see that garden in heaven, where we used to love each other, for eons, Rosemary said, eons--”

Kenzie was laughing against the tickle of his mouth as he groaned into her, standing and gripping her to him under her thighs, his hands finally (fuck, finally, no offense Rosemary) on her bare skin there under the long dress. Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her up to the deck, eagerly turning his chin up to her where her face hovered above him, needy for her kisses.

“I never wanna leave,” Kenzie whispered into him, and he shuddered, pulling her closer, so close the pattering of her heartbeat was flush against his chest, her hair falling against his cheeks. “I wanna run away into the woods with you, into our secret circle of oaks, baby, let’s just stay here and fuck in the field and in the trees and throw away our clothes and worship the Goddess under the starlight until the world ends--”

“But She has shit for us to do, angel, we gotta save the world--” and he was laughing against her as he stumbled with her near the stairs. Kenzie slipped out of his arms (how does she do that) and ran up the stairs away from him before he could grab her wrist--”we gotta save the world, Miss Stone--”

The weed was sweet inside him still, and he thought, The Fates are the Goddess and the Goddess is the Fates, and even if I have darkness in me, so does everything, so does everyone--I know I’ve chosen the light now, and that’s all that matters, I know it was my choice all along--I’ve found my sweet Kenzie, and nothing can fucking hurt me, nothing, nothing can fuck with us, baby--I can’t wait to kiss you with a thousand roses around us and the evening light and the sweet sound of music, slip your moonstone on your little finger and kiss your sweet hands with the tattoo of all my love--

He ran through the bedroom, seeing the little slip of her shoulder, the wave of her hair, the flick of the hem of her long linen dress disappearing through the bathroom door. Kenzie slammed it behind her and he heard the lock click into place. He fell against it, groaning, jiggling the handle to no avail.

“Baby, fuck, ughhh, lemme in, please.”

He could hear her giggling, hear the copper tub’s faucet turn on, its sweet low drift and the sound of her little movements, her tiny laughter kindling a needle of heat into his groin. My angel of heaven. Have mercy.

“I just realized something, Kenzie.”

She fell silent behind the door, as if pausing--for a little while he only heard the faucet running. The bedroom was bathed in low, golden light, and his eyes fell on Cupid’s flower crown in the painting, the tenderness with which he kissed Psyche’s cheek.

“I’ve loved you for thousands of years.”

There was another long pause. He pressed his head against the door, closed his eyes. I have, haven’t I. I really have, When I saw you on the balcony that night, I felt the immensity of time. I knew that it had always been you.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled through it; Kenzie was throwing her arms around him, making him stumble further, against her this time (oh thank Goddess), and then she was pressing him harshly into the bathroom wall, her hands insistent, demanding. He was leaning down to her, trying to wrap his arms around her, but she pressed them down, her hand drifting to his jaw, clenching there.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you assassinate someone for me?” She laughed at this, her words hovering between facetiousness and seriousness, and her smile melted at his heart, made him desperate for her.

“If I had to, yes.” Duncan’s answer was serious, and they both knew it; he stared at her, his eyes unwavering, and saw her lips fall from the smile, saw that she could see the ache of him, insatiable, unending, for her.

“Look at the bruises you left on me.”

Kenzie lifted the linen dress up over her head, edging out of his reach as he tried to grip her. He realized she was naked underneath it and heard the tiny reverberation of his moan, following after her. She turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Duncan groaned to see the dark bruises he’d left on her asscheeks, the product of his own hands. He kneeled, aching regret pressing on him, and cupped her at the top of her thighs, drifting his mouth down to the bruises, whispering against her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I love you so much--”

“I love them,” she whispered. “I love the marks you leave on me. I asked for them and I love them and I want more. I don’t care how long we’ve been together in the past, it still only feels like it’s been a few weeks now and I want more. The marks from your hands and your lips, your attention, your love--I want more, more, more--” Kenzie was leaning back into his hands now, against the wet, open dip of his mouth, her hair brushing along his head. She turned and his face hovered right over her cunt--Duncan dragged her against him, opening his lips further, cupping them into the lips of her sex, turning her hips under his hands and pressing her into the wall. Kenzie’s arms drifted above her, up the wall’s incline, hands reaching heavenward, her back arching, leaning into him; Duncan pulled her thigh up so her knee rested against his shoulder, and held his tongue to her shivering clit, eliciting a long, drifting moan from her mouth turned upward.

The scent of her was rich with summery sweat and the salty gathering of her arousal, and it made Duncan feel as though he were drifting out into some ether, unchained from the earth, as if they were back in the black oak circle, between worlds.

“Baby,” she was humming, “how are we gonna know what to do? To change the world? What are we supposed to do with the company? Like--how--unnnh--” her words bled out as he drifted his tongue back and forth between her clit and the opening of her cunt, urgent and concentrated. No more worrying tonight, Kenzie, just be here with me, let me worship you…

“Mmhmm, baby, uhhuh,” she whined, and he knew she’d heard him, felt the bluish drift of his comforting thought. I’ve missed tasting your sweetness here, angel, I wanna build an altar to your sweet cunt alone, its secret places, curves, hidden clefts, the rich singularity of its scent. I’m gonna eat you out every fucking day for the rest of our lives. He pulled his tongue back, pressing his lips around her clit, sucking carefully, strongly, looking up with languid patience to the shadow over her face as her head fell down, her hands drifting from where they had stretched along the wall to his cheeks, his forehead, the curves of his eyelids, through the sides of his hair, and Duncan had to close them now, for fear he would die inside her eyes--that his heart would simply stop with the glorious weight of her (you Kenzie you my universe and I turn around you, I am your moon spinning around your earth, and when we end we begin again, when we die, we are reborn to each other--).

“Fuck, Duncan,” and Kenzie was biting into her lip, eyes falling closed, her body smooth and hot and terribly soft under his long hands, the wetness at his mouth an insistent undoing, the telltale trembling beginning in her thighs, “I think I’m gonna come already, sorry, baby, I can’t, god, that feels so fucking good, you’re too beautiful, annhh--” and he was shaking his head, rebounding his tongue against her, hands clutching at the bruises along her ass, fingers digging against them so she gasped in the half-patina of pleasure and pain--come for me, come as soon as you want to, as much as you want, as constant, for I will worship you always and my devotion will not end, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven, yours is the one true beauty, the gold that you hold in the center of your soul--then, with a pilling satisfaction that urged heat into his groin, he heard the high, lilting sound of her voice crying up in her ecstasy (“Dunny, fu-u-uck-k, my Pri-ince, Evening Star, my fucking baby, unnnnh--”), the sound of the water filling the copper tub crashing against her and drowning out her drawn whimpers, and he thought of Sirens, singing on rocks in the sea, mesmerizing to sailors, causing them to plunge to the depths with desire. My Kenzie, sing to me. Sing your pleasure out for my ears alone.

She quieted, her breath heaving, her legs shaking against him, her cunt twinging--he pressed another long, adoring lick between the lips, shivering with wetness from his mouth and her deep orgasm, then he stood, her hands drifting from his hair to his shoulders to his stomach, his height enveloping her, as it ever was. He brought his arms down around her and Kenzie began to work at his shirt, pushing his pants and briefs to the floor, his mouth, damp with her sex, tasting at hers with lazy need. He lowered his arms, reluctantly, letting his shirt drop to the floor, then swung them down around her shoulders and the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms. Duncan carried her to the copper tub, the steaming water within almost having reached the rim--he lowered her into it and Kenzie sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed in an expression of deep, contented loveliness.

Duncan lifted away from her, turning off the faucet, balancing on the edge of it for a moment, naked; Kenzie’s hair had immediately begun to drift around her, and he thought again of Sirens in the sea, calling out to Odysseus.

“You look like a mermaid, Kenz,” he said, smiling down at her. She grinned, dipping her face under the water, blowing bubbles up to the surface, eyeing him coyly.

“Come, come to me, come to the sea and be drowned, wah-haha,” she laughed.

“By you, gladly.” Duncan stepped over the rim and settled down into the serenely hot water. The tub was quite large--larger than the claw-footed one in the penthouse, large enough that he could stretch his legs out entirely and crook them around her, drawing her into him, his cock, hardening, straining, brushing against the inside of her leg and stomach. She shivered and he moved his mouth down to her cheek, her jaw, pressing tiny kisses there.

“Remember when you put all those roses in the bathtub, baby,” Kenzie was whispering, lifting herself up to him, her nose nuzzling against his. The water felt almost unbearably warm now with her against him this way, and Duncan wanted to cry out against her hair, on her bare, flushed, damp skin. I fucking love you, my love is ever-hungry, ever-urgent, as if it wants to tear me into pieces so I can feed myself to you.

“How could I ever forget that,” he whispered. “You were so fucking beautiful that night. That dress, the half-moon around your neck. I think that’s the first time I knew--really knew--that you were divine.”

“I’m gonna ride you again like that now,” she murmured against his chin, her eyes glowing, and her little slender hand was grasping his cock, now terribly hard in her fingers, easing up and down its thickness with her hips under his fingers, her little tongue dipping out along his lower lip--Kenzie eased herself down onto him, a shuddering, high gasp falling out of her mouth into his, and he cried against her, the pitiful need in his voice ringing in his ears. She moved, slowly at first, then more pressingly, her hands coming up to dampen his hair with water that fell through it in a glistening trail.

“It feels like we woke up from another dream today,” she was whimpering into him, and Duncan was kissing her neck, his mouth tingling with her, lost in the tightness, the clenching, devouring space of her cunt around him, the water’s steam rising around them in droves. “Now we know, baby.”

“That you saved me--” he whined into the dip of her throat now, his voice shuddering as his orgasm inched closer, through his thighs and his groin. “You saved me, angel, you saved my soul from darkness here--that you save me, over and over--you are my miracle, fuck, Kenzie--”

“I am, aren’t I--” she laughed against him, then her laugh bled into a moan as she ground down onto him in the glorious heat of the water, her little hands drifting along his neck, through his curls, her head falling back, and his mouth was around her nipple, sucking with deep hunger, his heart already breaking for the moment he’d have to stop--then he felt himself, eyes blurring with heat and tears, his voice crying wordlessly to heaven (thank you Fates, who are Her), coming harshly up into the golden space of her, the depth of her, the absence of void--she was fullness, truth, reality, the essence of life, she was the beginning and end of all, the solace of his existence. My angel, my miracle, my savior, my Kenzie, for all time.

And for awhile after, they held each other in the blessed quiet and the wonderful heat of the water and the soothing feeling of one another, and he kissed the tiny tears from her eyes, and everything in all of that stretch of moments, small, brief, and somehow also infinite, was sublime.

-------

Kenzie was laying with her face towards the ceiling in the center of the golden bed, the delicate, hanging golden lamp there bowing down on her, kissing at the waves of her chestnut hair. She wore the little silken pink pyjamas and the silk black kimono, gifts from me, I want to shower you with gifts for the rest of our lives, my delight, my sweet love, and one of the downy pillows was propped under her head as she held D’aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths up to her face with her little hands. The other books were in a pile beside her on the silky spread; the ghost story books, Jane Eyre, The Golden Compass and the stargazing book from Duncan’s penthouse library. Duncan was propped up with a pillow on the headboard, facing her, wearing just a pair of black briefs, one of her tiny feet in his large hand; he rubbed it carefully, tenderly, fingers drifting back and forth along its graceful curve, over the rise of her little bones, eyes on her face as she read. The curtain was floating against the wall, and Duncan could smell the fire from the pit downstairs rising up. He wondered if he should go wake Rosemary so she could sleep in one of the guest rooms, but was loathe to move away from the bed, out of Kenzie’s warm sphere. In a little while, he thought. The night is warm and beautiful, besides, as beautiful as last night. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.

“I just love this picture so much,” Kenzie whispered, turning the book to him. The picture was the one of Persephone and Demeter rushing into each other’s arms in a golden field of flowers. “It really makes me think of me and Momby. She’s going to be so happy when we tell her. I keep imagining her face when you call her Momby,” and Kenzie’s grin clenched at his heart.

She turned the book back to herself, resting its edge on her belly, flipping through the pages. Duncan could hear the peepers out on the lake, the drift of the water obscured by them, the low crackle of the fire pit below. Kenzie stopped on a certain page, gazing at it intently, her little mouth pouting, eyes concentrated.

“What’s that page, baby,” Duncan murmured, switching to her other foot, kneading at her toes.

“Selene and Endymion,” she murmured.

“Read it to me?” he asked. I love your voice in the soft night. Singing, speaking, breathing sighs, the gasp of you when you come, the little crying sounds in your sleep.

Kenzie smiled, eyes whirling dark green at him, cleared her throat a little, and read in a clear, measured voice. Journalism major, he thought, brimming with happiness so full it was like a golden cup running over through his body.

“Selene, the moon, came out at night to light up the sky while her brother, Helios, was resting. Slowly she drove her milk-white horses across the sky, and her pale moonbeams fell gently on the sleeping earth where all was peace and quiet.”

Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like to meet Kenzie for the first time--not on the balcony, he thought, but in that other place, the real first time, after I saw her on her throne, like that dream we had, the throne where she held the sceptre--the Hidden Sphere, the one Rosemary talked about. We met in the Garden, Rosemary said, the Garden of All Delights. Kenzie’s hair, white and shimmering, was full of galaxy-flowers. Her eyes were a golden universe. And her wings were like the vastness of heaven in an unbroken sunset.

“One night Selene’s soft light fell on Endymion, a young shepherd, who was sleeping beside his flock. She stopped to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep and was so young and handsome that she completely lost her heart to him,” and here Kenzie glanced up at Duncan, her face cast in a soft corona of light, her eyes held in the aureate bow of her lashes, and he felt her thought--that’s how I felt when I saw your smile, baby. “She drove through the night, but she could not get him out of her mind.”

Duncan was sliding down over the coverlet to her, his hands drifting up her thighs. Oh you did, did you. She smiled at him nervously, then her eyes fell back to the page and she read again.

“When her duties were over, she went to Zeus and asked him to grant Endymion eternal sleep so he would stay forever young and handsome...Zeus granted Selene’s wish and Endymion slept on and on, smiling in his sleep. He dreamed that he held the moon in his arms. But it was not a dream after all…”

Duncan was pulling her up to him, into his mouth, easily lifting her small weight against him, and the book fell from her fingers to the soft spread and her hair fell back, her eyes fluttering closed against him, the silken feeling of her all too much, and Duncan thought of her as the moon shining against him; as the goddess she once was, of what had felt like a dream, had seemed to be one in the nimbus of sleep, but hadn’t been, her, so wondrously, soul-shakingly real now, in his arms--

No, no. Not a dream after all.

[go2harsha-blog]

Krishna on the Beach

Harsha Prabhu wanders on a beach in Goa and stumbles upon the God of Love

Arambol, Goa, August 2019

The Photoshoot

It was the weekend of the global protest against the destruction and burning of the forests in the Amazon basin, aided and abetted by the Brazilian government.

A few of us decided to hold a pop up demonstration at Arambol beach against this act of environmental vandalism that threatened the livelihood of the indigenous people of Brazil - and 20% of the world’s oxygen supply. The demo would be in the form of a photo shoot, with people holding placards that spelt: SOS Amazon! We needed a quorum of 12 people to hold the placards. Seemed easy enough.

But it wasn’t. It took us a full hour of hustling on the beach to get the magic 12. Many we asked begged off for one reason or another: they did not understand what I said (Russian tourists); they were waiting for someone; they had to be somewhere else; they had to discuss it with their group before agreeing to participate. Some of these procrastinators were clearly entitled, middle class Indian tourists from major metros, visiting Goa as part of a package tour, sporting t-shirts with the tour logo. Somehow, we managed to find 12 souls willing and able to be a part of the the visual petition against the Amazon destruction.

After the photoshoot I wandered along the beach. Then I heard the sound of bells. Turning, I saw a group of men striding down the beach. One of them was carrying something on his head; the others were playing zills and chanting “Radhe Krishna ki jai!” (Hail Radha and Krishna).

The man who was carrying an idol of Krishna - Bal Krishna, Krishna as a child - placed it on the beach. His companions dug holes in the sand and placed incense sticks, to light which they borrowed my lighter. Slowly, people gathered around the idol; bits of camphor were burnt as offerings; prayers offered.

There was a large group of young boys who were playing in the sand nearby. Ever the opportunist for a photo grab, I went up to them and, addressing the biggest boy, asked: “Have you heard of the burning of the forests in the Amazon in Brazil?” “Yes” , he replied “ I saw it on the news.” “Would you like to help us stop it?” I asked him. “How?” he asked. “Simple. Just join with your friends in holding these placards,” I replied, “ I’ll take a photo and send it to the Brazilian government.”

“Yes, yes,” he shouted and turned to explain to the rest of his friends what was proposed. Before I could say ‘Krishna’ I had 12 eager and willing young participants in the photoshoot. In an attempt to get them all in the frame I almost stumbled onto the Bal Krishna image on the sand.

Krishna Lila

It was only then that I realised the young boys where part of a group that had come to participate in the Krishna ritual on the beach. In my mind’s eye, I saw them as the gopas (cow-herders) of Vrindavan, Krishna’s accomplices in his childish pranks, which, to the devotee, is an expression of the God’s ‘Lila,’, life as play.

And play they did, that evening on the beach, first the young boys, then the older youth and some men joining in. Games of tag, of skill and strength and guile. Then they attempted to smash the ‘Dahi Hundi’, the pot of yogurt - an object of mischievous fascination for Bal Krishna, called ‘Maakhan chor’, the butter-thief - held tantalizingly out of reach by a man wielding a rope and pully. Both groups of young boys and older youth managed to smash the Hundi, splattering themselves and those nearby with yogurt.

Where were the gopis (milk-maids) in all this play? Some stood by watching, like the ladies from Rajasthan, looking, with their aquiline features, nose rings and veils, like they had stepped out of a Kishangarh miniature, the 18th-century school of painting from Rājasthan, celebrating Krishna as a lover. Other gopis, possibly tourists from interstate or overseas, cavorted in the sea, holding hands in the water, playing their water games, framed by the setting sun.

Then it was time for more prayers and - as the sun set and the horizon turned maroon - time for the ‘Visarjan,’ the ritual immersion of the Krishna idols - the Bal Krishna being joined by a Krishna playing the flute - in the sea.

Who is Krishna?

Yesterday was Gokulashtami , the birthday of Krishna. Today is Visarjan. Who is Krishna, this God who was born yesterday and is committed to the waters the very next day?

Who is Krishna? This question bedevilled Arjun, the hero of the Mahabharata war, contemplating the field of battle. Is he my charioteer? My devoted friend and wise councillor? Or is he a God whose true face I dare not see?

There are many Krishnas; you can pick and choose.

There’s the culture hero of the Ahir, a tribe of pastoralists found in north and western India. The Ahirs are mentioned in the Mahabharata and some Ahir claim descent from the Yadava clan of Krishna.

There’s Bal Krishna, the baby Krishna, whose exploits form the material of songs mother’s sing to their children, whose devotion parallels the cult of baby Jesus.

There’s Krishna the lover, flirting shamelessly with the gopis of Vrindavan, all the while knowing his heart is with Radha, another man’s wife, in an erotic wheel-within-wheel of transgression, celebrated in much Indian song, dance and art.

There’s the Krishna of the Bhagvad Gita, Arjun’s initiator into the terrifying mysteries of cosmic time, including the need to do one’s caste-defined, destiny-propelled duty, regardless of the consequences (nishkamakarma).

This was the Krishna that troubled M K Gandhi, possibly the greatest Vaishnav (Krishna devotee) of them all in recent times. The arguments in the Geeta rationalising violence, no doubt the work of Brahmins versed in the arts of sophistry in defence of the status quo, stuck in Gandhi’s throat. Gandhi would have agreed with D D Kosambi, polymath and Marxist historian, who said: ‘This slippery opportunism characterizes the whole book. Naturally, it is not surprising to find so many Gita lovers imbued therewith. Once it is admitted that material reality is gross illusion, the rest follows quite simply; the world of "doublethink" is the only one that matters.’

Bhakti

There’s the Krishna of the Bhakti saints, the social movement that was anti-caste, that talked up love for one’s fellow human as the highest goal.

The Bhakti saints came from all castes. Nammalvar was a peasant. Namdev was a tailor. Gora was a potter. Cokha Mela was Dalit. So was Ravidas, guru of Mirabai and contemporary of Guru Nanak. Jyaneshwar, who introduced the Gita to Marathi-speakers, committed ritual suicide. Tukaram, the greatest Marathi Bhakti poet of them all, was a peasant, who ran afoul of Brahmins,  and is supposed to have drowned himself in the river Tungabhadra. There’s more than a hint that he was murdered by caste Hindus. Luckily, his abhangas (poems) survived…

What made Bhakti so radical?

Here is Chandidas, the 15th century Bengali poet:

"Shobar upor manush shotto tahar upore nai,” (“Above all is humanity, none else”).

Or Kabir, possibly the greatest of India’s many poet-saints, also from the 15th century, and a Muslim to boot, though not a practicing one by the looks of it. He wrote in the vernacular and, even to this day, his poems explode in the face, like existential firecrackers.

Saints I see the world is mad.


If I tell the truth they rush to beat me,


if I lie they trust me. — Kabir, Shabad  4, Translated by Linda Hess and Shukdeo Singh

Or this:

Saints I've seen both ways.


Hindus and Muslims don't want discipline, they want tasty food.


The Hindu keeps the eleventh-day fast, eating chestnuts and milk.


He curbs his grain but not his brain, and breaks his fast with meat.


The Turk [Muslim] prays daily, fasts once a year, and crows "God!, God!" like a cock.


What heaven is reserved for people who kill chickens in the dark?…


— Kabir, Śabda 10, Translated by Linda Hess and Shukdeo Singh

Or this one:

If God be within the mosque, then to whom does this world belong?


If Ram be within the image which you find upon your pilgrimage,
then who is there to know what happens without?…


— Kabir, III.2, Translated by Rabindranath Tagore and Evelyn Underhill

Interestingly, Kabir ran afoul of both Muslims and Hindus during his lifetime. It is said that, upon his death, both sets of believers fought over his corpse. When they lifted his shroud, all they found were flowers.

Knowing the pain of others

Here is Narsi Mehta, the 15th century Gujarat poet-saint, with a song that was a favourite of M K Gandhi:

Vaishnav jan to tene kahiye je/ Peed paraayi jaane re /Par-dukhkhe upkaar kare toye /Man abhimaan na aane re

Only he is a true Vaishnav Who knows the pain of others Does good to others without letting pride enter his mind.

Indian PM Modi also claims to love ‘Vaishnava jan to.’ He launched a version of the song in October 2018, sung by artists from 40 different countries, as the start of the year-long celebration of the 150th birth anniversary of Gandhi.

Does Modi know the pain of others?

This was his reply to a Reuters journalist in 2013, when asked what he felt about the communal carnage in Gujarat that lead to over a thousand deaths, mainly, but not only, Muslims, and the displacement of many more while he was CM in 2002: “If someone else is driving a car and we’re sitting behind, even then if a puppy comes under the wheel, will it be painful or not? Of course it is.”

Does Modi know the pain his policies, including demonetisation and high GST rates, have caused his people?  The pain of all those who have lost their jobs due to an economy in shambles, largely due to the wreaking-ball of his government’s own policies? Does he know the pain of the farmers who commit suicide due to failing crops, drought and the inability to pay back loans? Or the pain of all the human rights defenders and tribals who languish in jail on trumped up charges? And what about the pain of the Kashmiri people?

What about the pain of Gandhians? The fact is that M K Gandhi himself was assassinated by a Hindu ring wing terrorist, a member of the Hindu Mahasabha, an off-shoot of the RSS, the very organisation that Modi belongs to.

What about the pain of all those people - mostly Muslim, Dalit or Christians - who have been lynched in India by mobs yelling “Jai Shree Ram”?

In July this year, eminent writers, filmmakers and intellectuals wrote an open letter to PM Modi, beseeching him to act, saying: "It is shocking that so much violence should be perpetrated in the name of religion! These are not the Middle Ages! The name of Ram is sacred to many in the majority community of India. As the highest Executive of this country, you must put a stop to the name of Ram being defiled in this manner.”

Modi has yet to respond to the letter.

Clearly, when it comes to knowing the pain of others, Modi has a lot of catching up to do.

Krishna the Redeemer

The Krishna story should make all tyrants everywhere worried.

For Krishna is also the redeemer. He comes to deliver the people of Dwarka from the rule of the evil tyrant Kamsa. Indeed, all tyrants dream of everlasting rule, but Kamsa himself hears a voice that tells him his end is near. This sets into play the whole Krishna myth, of the child abandoned by the palace, like Moses was among the bullrushes, a foundling fostered by another family, who grows up to avenge wrongs and claim his rightful throne.

According to Joseph Campbell: ‘The work of the incarnation is to refute by his presence the pretentious of the tyrant ogre.’

Further, Krishna, as the God of Love, refuses to allow himself to be weaponised by the armies of the Hindu Right, as opposed to the fate of poor Ram, where “Jai Shree Ram” has become a rallying cry of the lynch mobs.

Ironically, the actual form of greeting in parts of North India is “Jai Sia-Ram”; ‘Sia’ being a short form for ‘Sita’. But there’s no use for Sita, the Goddess of the Earth and Ram’s wife, in the hyper masculine world of Hindutva politics. The Goddess - and women - are the first casualties in Hindutva’s Raas Lila (sacred dance, dedicated to Radha-Krishna), where rape is a political tool to terrorise and subjugate people, sanctioned by V D Savarkar, the father of Hindutva ideology.

For Krishna devotees, Krishna is nothing without Radha; therefore it’s always “Jai Radhe-Krishna.” Behind Krishna stands the Mother Goddess. Vrindavan, the scene of the Krishna idyll, is the sacred grove (vana) of the Goddess Vrinda, another name for the Tulasi (holy basil) tree. To this day, the marriage of Krishna to Tulasi is celebrated every year in Vrindavan as Tulasi Vivaha. And even in Goa, for my landlord, Pritesh, was married to three Tulasi trees before he got a wife. Thus does the Great Mother break through Hinduism’s patriarchal bonds.

And it’s not just Hindus who worship Krishna.

According to literary critic Kuldeep Kumar, writing in The Hindu: ‘Many Muslim poets, the most notable among them being Raskhan, wrote devotional poetry to celebrate the Krishna legend and to rejoice in his bhakti. Abdur Rahim Khan-e-Khana, who is known in Hindi literature simply as Rahim, wrote many Barwais, Dohas and Sorthas in praise of Krishna. For example, this couplet is worth reading.

Jihi Rahim man aapno keenho chandra chakor Nisi baasar laago rahai Krishna chandra kee or (The way chakor always looks at the moon, similarly my face is always towards Krishna’s face that is as beautiful as the moon is). ‘ Chakor is a kind of partridge.

Passion Play

The passion play I witnessed on the beach was part of an ancient story, of the birth and sacrifice of a God. Like the Greek hero, Achilles, Krishna dies when an arrow pierces his heel, betraying his tribal, pagan origins. The culture hero dies, but the energies of an archetype never die, but live on, forever green in the hearts of men and women.

Surely Krishna - the hero with a hundred faces - will come to the aide of his people, wherever they may be, on a beach, in a temple, in the factories, on the land, in the forest, the vana, his favourite playground - or at the next political or environmental protest.

In a time of human-induced climate chaos and species extinction, driven by corporate fascism’s dystopian republic of greed, ruled by the global police state, the Radha- Krishna myth - of the world as a garden of plenty, as a playground for the divine erotic impulse to manifest, of love as the highest form of worship - is a very compelling counter-image.

Another world is possible. Krishna tells us it is.

While lovers of radical equality and seekers of bliss rejoice, tyrants everywhere better beware. Even as we speak, Krishna is on his way to Dwarka…

Pics: Harsha Prabhu

A note on the photoshoot:

Amazon photoshoot, Arambol, Sat 24 Aug 2019

SOS AMAZON! SOS CLIMATE EMERGENCY! Arambol, Goa, India Sat 24 August 2019

Members of Extinction Rebellion Goa staged a pop up demonstration at Arambol beach in solidarity with the native people of Brazil’s Amazon basin, whose forests are being burnt by the Brazilian government to facilitate development projects, including roads and big dams, in an ecologically sensitive bio region.

The burning forests of the Amazon are also a matter of grave concern as they supply 20% of the world’s oxygen. These forests are characterised as the lungs of the planet, taking in carbon dioxide and breathing out oxygen.

In addition, this wanton destruction feeds into the cycle of human-induced climate change. With the accelerated melting of the Greenland ice field via global warming predicted to raise sea levels by a frightening 25 feet, coastal communities like Goa are at special risk of being inundated by such irresponsible actions.

Activists also pointed out that India’s environmental record too was a scandal, with the continued destruction of forests, especially in the Western Ghats, leading to flooding in several states, including Goa, Maharashtra, Karnataka and Kerala. In Mumbai, the Aarey Forest in the centre of the city, also earmarked for development, and coastal mangrove destruction, are causing environmental stress on one of the world’s mega cities, also subject to periodic flooding.

India ranks among the bottom five countries on the Environmental Performance Index for 2018, according to a biennial report by Yale and Columbia Universities and the World Economic Forum. India also has the dubious distinction of overtaking China and Russia as the world’s top sulpha dioxide polluter, according to a Greenpeace report released on 19 August 2019. Sulpha dioxide is a by-product of coal-based electricity generation. Fossil fuels are also the key culprits in the global warming feedback loop and the proliferation of plastic pollution world-wide, including on Goa’s beaches.

With extreme weather events - like drought followed by floods in India - the norm, activists worldwide are calling upon governments to address the climate emergency, stop the reliance on fossil fuels and rapidly move towards adopting sustainable solutions to meet world energy needs.

The Brazil solidarity action - which included Arambol youth and local and international visitors - was part of a global weekend of similar demonstrations to put pressure on world governments to act now before it’s too late!

Pic: Harsha Prabhu, Design:Camelia Oberoi

#SOSAmazonia #SaveOurForests #ClimateEmergency #extinctionrebellion #extinctionrebellionindia #extinctionrebelliongoa #arambol #goa #DeclareClimateEmergency #SaveAareyForest #SaveWesternGhats

[rayraywrites]

Title: Long Distance Love

Pairing: Miyuki Kazuya x Sawamura Eijun

Characters: Miyuki Kazuya, Sawamura Eijun

Rating: General Audience

Total Word Count: 1788

Gift for @eijuhn

AO3

This is a little thing I wrote for @bakamvra on twitter! Nez was tweeting her headcanons about graduated miyuki x 3rd year eijun. So...I wrote something, inspired by them!

The screen flickered, tiredly buffering the video till there remained only a grainy face on the computer. The face smirked and laughed, while he himself scowled and cried. The face gestured back to the room, pointing out the struggling plant in the corner and pile of practice jerseys sitting on the bed, waiting to be folded and put away. He pointed at his own room, showing how nothing had really changed, even with the new roommate, and the blatant loss of another. Even though everything had changed.

Eventually the time on the bottom of his screen blinked into the AM, so he had to wave goodbye to the face. He pouted, and teared up even as he growled out demands for the other to catch for him soon. The face, instead grinned wider and refused the requests, even as the eyes softened and their was a glisten to them that crossed over, even through the poor quality. It took another few minutes to convince themselves to end the call, both having early morning practice to focus on, both aiming for the day where they could play together again.

Groaning softly, careful not to wake up his sleeping roomate, he pushed himself away from the desk and stumbled into his bed. Head filled with messy brown hair, glasses that glinted to hide sorrowful eyes, and a sharp smile, he managed to fall into a fitful sleep. As he had done every night since his second year had completed. Since Kazuya had officially moved out of the Seidou dorms, and he had been left behind.

When he woke up the next morning, the dark smudges under his eyes seemingly painted into his skin. Yet he awoke with a bright smile, tugging on his shorts and a clean shirt before reaching for his shoes and phone. And there it was, the half-awake good morning text from Kazuya, who had no reason to be awake this early. And yet, there was always some ramble or a barely coherent greeting.

My catcher: goonsjafd mowderning (4:29 am.)

My catcher: gppd mronung (4:30 am.)

My catcher: good morning (4:31 am.)

Giggling softly to himself, he replied back, a much more legible text of course. At first, he’d been really confused to receive texts from Kazuya this early, when at Seidou he would never be caught dead out of his bed this early. Even for Eijun. But the last time he’d gone to visit Kazuya in his apartment, he saw an alarm set up on his phone:

Wake up to wish bakamura a good morning - 4:29 am.

He had openly teared up, even as he quickly closed the clock app on Kazuya’s phone, and pretended that everything was fine. He wasn’t sure that Kazuya had believed him, but the extra attention had been well-appreciated. A little additional care and love as Kazuya slid onto his lap, arms raising to wrap around Eijun’s neck as he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. A moment of silence as Eijun’s eyes were drawn towards Kazuya’s lips and where their breath mingled for the briefest of seconds. Then the distance disappeared, as their lips met in an unhurried manner, moving gently against each others’.

His Ace!: (•‾⌣‾•)و ̑̑♡ Mornin’ Kazuya! (4:32 am.)

His Ace!: You better eat properly today Miyuki Kazuya!! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ (4:34 am.)

They had both refused to live as if every moment together was their last, so they took the time to deepen their relationship before pursuing anything. But it had been hard to control themselves; at Seidou it had been easy – anyone could walk in on them so discretion wasn’t simply wanted but a necessity. Now, Kazuya had graduated, living in his own apartment. But even then, there was the distance between them – Kazuya hadn’t moved far, but away from Seidou enough that he couldn’t simply walk there. And the timing – both of them were extremely busy with baseball and school, they couldn’t meet as easily as they had in Seidou.

So, as he headed out for his morning run, Eijun couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped him. Even with all the available methods for keeping in touch it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see Kazuya in person, to run his fingers through unbelievable soft hair, to pull off his glasses and watch as Kazuya began squinting cutely to try and make out Eijun’s face. He wanted to stroke Kazuya’s jaw before bringing them closer to each other and pressing kisses to his stupid face. Drawing circles in Kazuya’s hip as they clutched at each other tightly. He wanted to play catch with Kazuya, not just in games, but simply for fun during practice. He wanted to hear that satisfying sound again, the one that meant he’d thrown a perfect pitch right into Kazuya’s mitt.

He scrolled through his phone, gushing internally at the dorky selfie Kazuya had sent him yesterday while he was out with his college team. Apparently everyone had gotten wasted while he’d remained sober. Kazuya had taken a selfie of himself drawing a swirly moustache on his passed-out senpai with the silliest smile Eijun had ever seen. It had immediately become his wallpaper, replacing the sleepy Kazuya photo Kuramochi senpai had sneaked him a few months ago. Eijun had replied back with an equally dorky smile, loudly commenting on Kazuya’s drawing skills.

My catcher: MIYUKI KAZUYA!! What kind of stache is that! THIS SAWAMURA EIJUN WILL HAVE TO TEACH YOU NEXT TIME! ٩(๑òωó๑)۶ (11:48 pm.)

With another loud sigh, he repeated the phrase, “Only a little longer!” which had quickly become his motto over the past year. He had initially tried to keep how alone he had felt without Kazuya, but it hadn’t been possible for long. Kazuya had seemed to realize something was wrong when Eijun’s loud crowing on their video chats became sparse and harder to entice. Plus, he had a feeling that Harucchi and Kuramochi-senpai had been in touch.

But Kazuya being the dramatic person that he was – Eijun refused to accept that title after he’d met Miyuki Kazuya, had simply shown up one day after practice not too long after the school year had begun for them. And with no preamble, he had dragged him away. Even attempting to give a token protest had resulted in a glare that had him shutting up.

Kazuya had grabbed onto his hands, intertwining their fingers together tightly, as they marched towards the 3rd field. Eijun followed along, stumbling as he tried to keep up with Kazuya’s purposeful strides. His eyes were locked on their joined hands, still slightly in disbelief that Kazuya was here after not having seen him for weeks in person. Eventually they seemed to make it far enough that Kazuya was happy, as he quickly slowed down and slumped to the ground. Their hands being tightly woven together, meant that EIjun was tugged down alongside him. Collapsing against Kazuya, he struggled to set himself upright, but instead he was immediately grasped by the waist and pulled into Kazuya’s lap. Blushing, Eijun looked around them, trying to see if anyone would find them, but his head was slowly guided back by a gentle hand pressing against his cheek. Eijun’s face burned red as he found himself caught by Kazuya’s piercing look. Reaching forward, he ran his fingers down Kazuya’s cheek, familiarizing himself again with the contours on Kazuya’s face.

“Kazuya...what are you doing here? What’s going on?” Eijun was extremely happy to see his boyfriend, but he was sure Kazuya had said he would be busy this week with mandatory practices for the whole team every single day in preparation for the college tournaments.

Instead of replying immediately, Kazuya cupped Eijun’s cheek in return and simply smiled softly, unlike his usual smirks. “Baka, you think I haven’t missed you just as much as you have?” He seemed to ignore the soft gasp Eijun let out, and kept ploughing on. “I’ve noticed how much you tried to hide it – you can’t hide those bags bakamura, you haven’t been sleeping! Mochi said that you’ve been staying out even longer to practice! You can’t be injuring yourself Eijun.”

Flinching, Eijun looked away, not wanting to admit that he’d been using baseball as a distraction from how lonely he’d been feeling. He hadn’t wanted to worry Kazuya for this specific reason, that he’d try and fix the problem even if that wasn’t possible. Eijun simply had to finish this year, win Koshien again, and then he’d be back with Kazuya. A simple enough goal that had been weighing on his shoulders constantly for the past few months. But he couldn’t hide anything when Kazuya was only there to help, and was giving him an understanding smile. So he spilled the beans, so to speak, rambling about how lonely he’d been, how unprepared he was for being a third year, the weight of being the Ace but also competing with not only Furuya but the extremely talented first years to keep his title. How he had missed Kazuya, missed being able to hug him whenever he had wanted, to go to the catcher’s room and just lounge there when his own room had been too rowdy. How he had missed pitching to Kazuya, because Okumura was good, but it wasn’t the same.

And Kazuya had simply listened to him, quietly nodding as he brought Eijun’s head to his chest and began carding his fingers through Eijun’s hair. He had not contributed anything, simply allowing Eijun to let everything off his chest. But eventually Eijun stopped, and he began speaking. They slowly worked out solutions to as many of their problems, namely that Eijun would speak to Kazuya whenever he felt this way. They couldn’t hide things like this from each other. Kazuya had also bared his soul a little having felt similarly, but having experience being alone, he was able to handle it.

Now, focussing on his run, Eijun simply smiled and thought about his plans for the weekend. If he was sad now, that was okay, because he would get to see Kazuya that night again on another facetime, but more importantly he would get to hold his catcher again this weekend. In his pocket, his phone buzzed one last time, but he knew exactly what it would say. He grinned, an extra burst of energy in his run.

My catcher: You better not be overworking yourself either, you idiot?! Can’t have Ace-kun injuring himself so close to the championship! (4:45 am.)

My catcher: Also, don’t forget your calculus notes this weekend. I promised I would help you didn’t I? (4:45 am.)

[carmineclock]

I Still Feel The Same About You

Clover Last Saturday at 10:37 PM

The funny thing about your luck is that sometimes you can walk into the right place and just wait, and it'll be the exact right time for the person you're waiting for to show up. So today, rather than a book and a photo, you settle yourself on Trace's bed.

Trace Yesterday at 1:13 AM

> Well, lucky him because you indeed return to your room shortly after. You didn't even plan to stay there for long, just get a new change of clothes maybe. You notice the trail leaning inside though, so you're at least prepared when stepping inside. "Well hello. Come here often?"

Clover Yesterday at 1:17 AM

> You snort and wave to him, smiling that one smile he definitely knows by now that means you're planning something or other in the next few moments. "Quite often, lately!"

Trace Yesterday at 1:26 AM

> Of course he got something planned. Sigh and roll your eyes with a smirk. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Clover Yesterday at 1:30 AM

"Guuuueeess what I found."

Trace Yesterday at 1:37 AM

"My dignity?"

Clover Yesterday at 5:22 AM

"Better!"

Trace Yesterday at 2:18 PM

"Now I'm curious. What is it?"

Clover Yesterday at 2:27 PM

> Carefully retrieve a photo from within your vest and hold it out. > It's what he asked you to find.

Trace Yesterday at 2:30 PM

> You immediately know what it is and you smile (a little sad maybe, but relieved). > You walk over to sit on the bed next to him and take the photo to look at it. "Thank you."

Clover Yesterday at 2:34 PM

> Prrrr. "Did you ever find a place to put things or should I just let you know where the rest is?"

Trace Yesterday at 2:48 PM

"I asked Sitri if I could store some things with him.. Unless you got a better place for it."

Clover Yesterday at 3:07 PM

"I trust you."

Trace Yesterday at 3:20 PM

You flash a smile. "I trust you too.. Thanks for keeping my things safe."

Clover Yesterday at 4:15 PM

"You got an hour?"

Trace Yesterday at 4:16 PM

"I think so. Why?"

Clover Yesterday at 4:17 PM

"I can show you the place if you promise not to leave tracks."

Trace Yesterday at 4:18 PM

Smirk. "I like to think I'm pretty okay at that."

Clover Yesterday at 4:52 PM

"And a kiss?" > You're joking- you get up and gesture for him to come with.

Trace Yesterday at 4:55 PM

> You smirk and get up to follow, but before that- lean down to give him a smooch on the side of his face. He deserves it, honestly.

Clover Yesterday at 5:23 PM

> You make a noise equivalent to heart emoji spam and do a tiny little dance in place before leading him to leave the manor. When you flag a taxi over, you mention, "Almost nobody knows where this is, y'know. Not Snow, not Scratch, not Crow, not even Nep yet. So it's the safest place I could put anything 'til that changes."

Trace Yesterday at 5:24 PM

Huh. "And you're sure you want to show me?"

Clover Yesterday at 5:29 PM

You take his hand in yours and hum. "I want to be yours."

Trace Yesterday at 6:26 PM

On the list of things you didn't expect today-- You look at him quietly for a moment. There's no trace of any negative feeling, hardly even surprise, you just need a moment to process and figure out how to react. Your hand gladly rests in his though. "In what ways, exactly?"

Clover Yesterday at 6:50 PM

"Through thick and thin and hell and high water. I'm through with trying to think I can play the whole world on my own, an' I want to be at your side. So I'm trustin' you, aye?"

Trace Yesterday at 7:36 PM

"Aye." You smile and give his hand a squeeze, then lean back and get comfy in the car.

Clover Yesterday at 7:50 PM

You lead him to a rather stylish apartment on the border between Felt territory and neutral, letting him in and leading him through the living room- the shelves are full of old pictures, he might notice, and some of them featuring green faces that don't show up in his memories- to one of the bedrooms. You gesture to the closet with the rest of the stuff you packed before the raid. It's not as if you saved his whole room, but there are the little somethings.

Trace Yesterday at 9:38 PM

You linger at the sight of the pictures. Seeing other green faces is odd enough.. but some of the faces might be uncomfortably familiar, even if you can't quite put your finger on it. After a short moment you manage to pull yourself away to follow him into the bedroom to your stuff. It's okay if it's not a lot, you never expected that (and probably would have made Doc very suspicious), but you're glad for every piece Clover saved and returns. "You're a darling. Thank you.." You sigh rellieved and sit down in front of it, then immediately start rummaging through everything and try to find some of your most treasured possessions. Some especially important photos, the jar with the flowers, a couple of gifts you got, and so on.

Clover Yesterday at 9:43 PM

You settle beside him and lean slightly on him, quietly in support. Some part of you can remember why this was originally half out of spite, but you couldn't even try to feel what you had felt back then again. It seems almost silly now.

Trace Yesterday at 11:37 PM

You lean a bit against him as you go through your things, occassionally showing him something and telling him a tidbid about it. Just a week ago, you could have never imagined to have such a moment together ever again.

Clover Today at 12:02 AM

You keep every little thing he says close to your heart, and you seem happy to hear it all.

[awed-frog]

tl;dr: nope

I got a couple of anon asks about this, and I’m also tagging @twist-shout-and-shells because they asked me to, but I have to say - I don’t know anything about comics, I don’t know Marvel at all, so this review is just a meaningless rant. Like, I know so little about this universe that the first superhero movie I ever saw in my life was Thor, and the only reason they got me was because my mythology-loving ass assumed this would be about the actual god, you know?, so that was a very confusing two hours. Anyway - after this, I’m done with them. The ridiculous hype campaign they created around Infinity War actually activated my crow brain, which means I rushed to the theater because I was sort of expecting this would be a shocking masterpiece and any spoiler would ruin it for me, and - yeah. Never doing that again. Because, whatever - they do manage to come up with some good writing from time to time, and Black Panther’s success had made me hope they’d finally recognize that a solid, coherent and meaningful story is really the first thing you need, but apparently not? 

Ugh.

Anyway, here are main reasons why I didn’t like Infinity War.

1) No, we don’t need a new plague

Problem number one with this movie is that it fails to take into account that our IQ as a people has dropped about twenty points over the last thirty years (and I’m not even joking) and that means even a guy nicknamed ‘Mad Titan’ is actually given the benefit of the doubt (I don’t remember anyone thinking Hela might have had a point, but then again, women are known to be emotionally compromised at all times, right, so all that rage was probably PMS and crazy bitches, amirite?, can’t live with them, can’t live without them). And here, predictably, is the result:

I even checked Breitbart so you wouldn’t have to and while they seem confused as to whether they should support this movie or not (don’t watch because Captain America is played by ‘Comrade Communism’, do watch because Chris Pratt is a Good Christian Man), it’s still clear to everybody over there that Thanos, “an environmentalist wacko obsessed with salvaging the natural resources of the universe” is “espousing liberal jibberish”.

So, I’m going to keep it short and mostly sourceless because I saw a lot of people discussing this, but just to be clear: yeah, it is worrying that human population has basically tripled in thirty years, but the correlation ‘more people = more damage & fewer resources’ isn’t as clear-cut as some like to think. Also, research shows that women being recognized as human beings - that’s the actual way to solve this problem (see also x, x), which means that if Thanos had meant business, he could have used those frwaking stones to build schools and family planning centres. 

2) Your plan against evil can’t be just saying no

This is probably what bugs me the most both in fiction and IRL: saying ‘Trump is a moron’, ‘capitalism is bad’ or ‘genocide is wrong’ is not a political program. It’s a moral stance, and kudos to you, but if you want to make the world a better place, you need a lot more than that. But, nope - IW fell into this trap with such relish I can actually believe no one saw this as a problem - at all. When Thanos pointed out, rather smugly, that decimating Gamora’s planet had led to a new era of happiness and prosperity, she didn’t react in any way. We never saw Tony or Shuri mentioning the outlandish, extravagant idea that better and greener technology could actually save us all. We never saw anyone point out that when the richest 1% own half the world’s wealth, wiping out half of a Nairobi slum isn’t likely to do much for the environment. I guess it wasn’t relevant to the plot?

3) Turning your audience against the good guys = dick move

That said, our planet is objectively in bad shape, and writers and artists who are (or like to think of themselves as) engagés are more than welcome to discuss this - for all her faults, JK Rowling did that to perfection in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, focusing on the importance of conservation and taking a clear stance against animal trafficking. Other movies, of course, went a lot farther than that: my movie rec of the day is Okja, a masterful and soulwrenching look at how capitalism manages food production. But IW, on top of everything else, manages to be an anti-green movement movie? As if that was needed in any way? Apparently comic!Thanos’ goal was to impress Lady Death or something, and maybe they should have gone with that, because to me, movie!Thanos’ plan sounds like an ill-conceived and unfortunate parody of the green movement. In fact, eminent biologist E. O. Wilson’s Half-Earth explores this exact possibility - which is not about killing off 50% of the population, thank you very much, but about improving agriculture and urban structures so we can leave 50% of the world to the rest of the ecosystem. And maybe it’s just me, but isn’t it a bit weird the book came out at about the same time when IW’s script was being written? I try not to be a paranoid nutcase, but come on. Because what the movie does is that it turns Thanos into a sort of green Hitler whose only focus is the environment (“But he was a vegetarian!”), cue the creepy final shot of him going all ‘Schwarzy in the forest’ surrounded by clean-water creeks and happy animals while we are left counting our dead. The metaphor couldn’t be more obvious, and to be honest it is most unwelcome. Time and place, guys? I really haven’t seen something so revolting since I got to the end of the Da Vinci Code and realized atheists were the true monsters all along.

4) Being a hero doesn’t mean saving your friends

So this is starting to become a trend, and seriously, enough. If you’re a hero, then you need to think of something greater than yourself, and this is why your life will suck and suck and suck until your untimely death. Deal with it? And I can understand Loki giving up the Tesseract for his brother, because he’s always been more of an anti-hero than a hero, and his morals are shot to hell in any case, and I’ll forgive Dr Strange because he clearly saw something we didn’t, but what the hell was Steve thinking? Seriously, I keep seeing posts about how Pure and Noble Steve is, and guys, did we even see the same movie? Bringing Vision to Wakanda meant endangering an entire nation, and thousands of people there paid for that choice with their lives. It’s because Steve insisted in not seeing the big picture - or accepting Vision’s own wishes - that Thanos even succeeded in the first place. If they’d destroyed the stone, Thanos would never have gotten his hands on it, and Wakanda would not have been attacked by a horde of alien demons. Sacrificing hundreds or thousands of nameless (black, African) warriors to keep one (white) man safe is not heroism - it’s cowardice. It’s assuming your own feelings and your friends’ lives count more than the lives of strangers, and this is the exact opposite of how a hero should think. Not that I’m surprised, since Steve already condoned the destruction of half of Bucharest to save Bucky, but whatever. Compare and contrast with Tony, by the way, who first tried to destroy the Time stone, then chose to sacrifice himself to save someone he didn’t even like? Yeah, that’s more like it. #TeamStark

5) Every single woman is defined by her relationship to a man

With the caveat that no emotion, connection or motivation is throroughly explored in IW because it’s an action-packed movie during which people never speak an honest word to each other (relying instead on posturing, movie quotes and sarcastic remarks), here is basically what happens: men have things, and women have men. Tony’s journey is mostly about saving Peter and also sacrificing himself for the world. Steve is all about his friends and various heroics. Dr Strange is a sort of ascetic monk playing the long game. Thanos wants to save the universe or something. And Vision is on a quest towards humanity? Maybe? But the women - Gamora is important because she’s Thanos’ daughter. Scarlet Witch is important because she loves Vision. Natasha (I think she’s in the movie? I don’t actually remember if we hear her speak) is on Cap’s side because Cap. Pepper only appears to remind us of what Tony has to lose. Exceptions to this rule include Shuri, whom IW didn’t quite manage to destroy; Loki, who was always female- and queer-coded, so I’m not surprised he ends up dying for the handsome and suitably Aryan hero; and arguably Starlord, who mostly fights for Gamora (what is a virtue in a woman, however, is a weakness in a man, because Starlord ends up fucking up the plan because of his love for her). And I know they probably tried to compensate for the complete lack of women in the movie by highlighting how powerful Scarlet Witch is and focusing so much on Gamora, but I’m an annoying person, so that didn’t work for me. Because, again, Scarlet Witch is a 2D character plucked directly from a Victorian dictionary’s definition of ‘woman’ (while the menfolk around her worry about the possible demise of the Entire Earth, there she is, channelling all her energy in being a good and loyal companion to her robot husband) and Gamora has no more control over her life in this movie than she had as a child? Her main narrative purpose in IW is to make us feel bad for her boyfriend and father, who’re both driven to kill her (for very different reasons) and suffer for her death (and don’t get me started on Thanos suddenly loving someone and what a stroke of luck, the one person in the universe he gives a damn about just happens to be standing next to him on top of a cliff when he needs to kill her). Seriously, why is it that female characters’ concerns still begin and end with romantic love? This trope that romance is the most important thing for every single woman needed to die, like, yesterday.

6) None of that actually means anything

Look, I’m a sucker of time-travel of any description, but I also think time-travel must be done honestly or not at all. Movies like Back to the Future or Arrival both use time bending to great effect, because the stakes are real and painful and there are all sort of complex decisions facing our heroes. But IW doesn’t care about any of that. The existence of the Time stone is not about ethical dilemmas or even turning up the drama to eleven - the one purpose of that thing is to make us hope that our personal fave is not dead after all, so we’ll keep watching this stupid franchise until the end of times. That finale could have been innovative and heartwrenching, and instead we already know it wasn’t. Samuel L. Jackson is apparently confirmed in Captain Marvel, which will be released next year, and we also know they’re working on Spider-Man 2, Guardians of the Galaxy 3, Black Panther 2 and Doctor Strange 2. Capitalism has very nearly killed the possibility of creating a well-written and gutting story, because the rule is, If it makes money, it goes the fuck on. Hence TV shows which no longer make any kind of sense but we all keep watching out of nostalgia, affection for the characters or dissatisfaction with our own lives, and also franchises which stretch the plot to new and boring limits (for instance, it beggars belief that Tony and Steve didn’t even meet in IW, and their fight never came up at all: I guess we’ll have to wait for IW 2, or Avengers 37: The One with The Talk). And here, again, studios are so greedy that they willingly disregard the fact audiences will reward ‘complete’ stories: for instance, Logan was critically acclaimed and made tons of money, but the risk of ‘permanently’ killing off a beloved character is still considered too high. And playing it safe actually works: IW costed $320 million, which is about 5% of the studio’s budget, and that investment has already been repaid in full (the movie made double that in the first two weeks).  

(Meanwhile, 21st Century Fox gained more than one billion dollars from Trump’s TAX REFORM THAT WILL MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN - probably a disappointing amount of money for owner Richard Murdoch, who has a net worth of 15 billion and is known to use some of that hard-earned cash to support laudable & important causes such as the privatization of public education, but hey, we all need to make do and move on, right? Right.)

So this is mostly it. To be fair, IW was mildly entertaining, and I thought they sort of did a good job in juggling twenty leads - we got no character development at all and no meaningful dialogue, but we saw everybody at least once and their lines were funny? Some moments were genuinely good despite a couple of bizarre plot points (I’m still unclear on why Strange didn’t create a circle of fire around Thanos’ arm, and very tired of the overused ‘Yeah, let’s save the most powerful weapons for last’ trope), so I wouldn’t say this was the worst movie ever made, but as I said, I’m done. I’ve given more than enough money to this franchise, so when IW 2 comes out, I think I’ll be a boring adult and watch it on TV as I’m doing my ironing or something. Good times.

[gothamwillmeme]

Jonathan Crane's Pathetic Life- Narrated

Well, hello there. “What? Who the fuck?” I bet you’re all wondering who this is. “Cash! I think someone hacked the intercom again!” This young, I mean, ancient man, is named Jonathan Crane. And this is a day in his sad pathetic life. “Oh fuck yo-”

JONATHAN’S DAY Jonathan begins his day either at 4 am or 4 pm, whichever he wakes up at. Look closely at the bags underneath his eyes.

Fun fact: It’s a game in Arkham to count the bags underneath Jonathan’s eyes each day. If you’re the first one to count them all without losing count, you win a prize!

“Doc, I think I forgot to take my meds yesterday.” “QUICK RESTRAIN HIM!” “Oh, come on- OH!”

Oh, in the groin! Poor luck, Jonathan.

Jonathan is then force fed his medication for the day after reeling in pain from the aggressive dick-punch he just received. Arkham Asylum is a wholesome place for growth.

It’s lunch time in Arkham Asylum. You’d think it would be this time that everything is at its calmest.

But it’s really one big shit show.

*camera zooms out to reveal Jonathan sitting quietly at a table while everyone screams and throws food at each other*

It is at this inopportune time that Jonathan forgets to eat, per usual, and decides to get a little reading in.

*Garfield Lynns approaches Jonathan* “Oh, kindling!” *Garfield takes the book and sets it on fire*

And it’s also at this time that Jonathan gets dragged back to his cell for attempting to strangle Garfield Lynns with his own shirt.

After sitting in his extreme isolation cell for hours with nothing to do, Jonathan begins to have dangerous thoughts. “What if I made fear toxin vape pens and sold them to hipsters?”

Oh, Jonathan. You silly man.

It’s time for his weekly doctor visit. “Okay, Jonathan, please step on the scale for me.” “Alright.” “What the… Scales can’t even go negative, can they? How are you showing negative 140 pounds?” Jonathan sighs. “That happens a lot.”

Jonathan is allowed to participate in recreation time. He begs the guards not to make him participate, but since when is Arkham a healthy place for mental recovery?

*Edward and Jervis scream profusely as they are assaulted with dodgeballs* *Joker laughs in the background* *Jonathan just stands there and takes it*

After Jonathan and his friends, Edward Nygma and Jervis Tetch are pelted with dodgeballs, the three are corralled into a room with the warden.

“Okay, I’m not mad-” the warden sighs “-if you tell me which one of you did it, I won’t revoke privileges.” “It was me.” Jervis lies. “It was definitely Jervis. Take him to jail, lock him up.” Edward nods. “I know it wasn’t Jervis.” The warden says. “It surely was not me.” Edward assures. “Then it must be Jonathan.” The warden assumes. “I have no idea what this is about.” “Someone treated the water in the employee lounge water tank with laxatives.”

Edward laughs, apparently finding the matter hilarious. Tell that to my fourteen hours in the stall, Mr. Nygma. “I most certainly did not do that.” Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Then who did?” “Why would you assume it was us three?” Jonathan argues. “Because it’s always you three.”

Jonathan glares at Edward. Edward sweats nervously. “I say it was Joker.” Edward offers. It was probably Joker. “It was probably Joker.” The warden shrugs.

They are eventually released, just to go back to their pathetic mundane life. Jonathan’s anger issues overtake him and he somehow manages to punch a hole in the wall of his cell. The walls are made of concrete.

Fun fact: Jonathan has so much pent up anger and hatred in his skinny frail body that it’s believed you can see the actual fires of hell burning in his eyes whenever someone approaches him.

Jonathan hates his life. “I hate my life.”

Jonathan manages to make a prison shank with a pencil. He smuggled this contraband into his cell months ago after hiding it in his- “Don’t tell them where I hid the pencil.” -ass. “Goddamnit.”

Jonathan uses it to carefully open the screws of the floor vent and carefully enters it. Jonathan, ironically, had just finished reading Shawshank Redemption.

Fun fact: Jonathan is skinny enough to fit in nearly every crawl space, air duct, and every locker at Gotham university. He discovered the last one when his own students shoved him in a locker after he gave a lecture on the demise of all happiness.

Jonathan manages to escape, being careful to ruin as many lives as he can on the way out. Because Jonathan is an asshole.

“I’m finally free-” Finally free? You escape every other week. “Shit, you’re still here.” Time for you to go back to your pathetic home. “It’s not pathetic.” It’s pathetic. Just like you.

Jonathan makes it back to his pathetic home in one piece. He sits down on a luxurious cardboard box with his pet crow like some sort of edge lord and spends an hour fawning over the poor bird before he finally gets back to work. How long have you been awake, Jonathan? “49 hours.”

Fun fact: Jonathan has a serious problem.

What are you working on, Jonathan? “Jonathan Crane isn’t here anymore but if you’d-”

Fun fact: Jonathan is a fan of overused cliches.

What are you working on, Scarecrow? “A fear toxin that breaks the fourth wall.” Whatever is that for? “You’ll see.”

What’s that smell? I think I’m AKCODJDJDOFNCHK KKINDHAJS

Ṣ̢̦͙̲̭̠̮̺̜͌͊̅͑͌͌̑̓͘͝ć̢̧͉̗̜͕̦̹͓̯̑̀͗̄̈́̆̉̓͝ą̳̳̜̥͖̟̖̃͐̎́͌̅͑̈́͑̃͜ͅr̝̼̪̙̠͙̠̺̝̪̃̏́̀́͗̋̈́̓̚e̛̼̺̰͎̣͇̪̮͇̅̊́́̏̈́̂͘͜͝ḑ̹̦̪͔̠̤̹͙́͆̾̎̒̾̾̚͠͝ͅ ̨̖̗̱͈̬̺͇̦̣́̎̒̍͗̐͆̂͆͠y͉̯̲͎̳̻̙̺̑̂̄͋̈̆̑̓̑͌͜ͅę̡̣̘̪̹̹͉̮̊̑̾̏͋͑̔̎̇͝ͅt̨̛̤͙̝͇̠̹̬̼̄̉̾̒͊̊̀̆͘͜?̧̛͈͚͖̺̳̻͉̹̋̈͆̈̈́̽̌̿͜͝

[justsomehobo]

Hatt’s Army, Chapter 2

Constructive criticism welcome! 

(Originally published July 6, 2017)

Wednesday: June 19, 1940

The next morning, I was awakened by the warmth of the pilot light in my firebox, set alight by a cleaner who had swept the floor, polished all my controls, turned a small valve that looked as if it were built for a garden hose, checked to ensure my auraphone was rising from a low contralto at a healthy rate, and moved on to Edward on my immediate left. Simmering comfortably, I woke up slowly to see, through the crack in my shed door- for the windows were boarded up on account of blackout regulations- that the morning sky was already beginning to brighten. By the time most of our drivers had arrived on their bicycles, we were all still groggy but beginning to grow sharper.

"Good morning, old boy," greeted Boris as he boarded my cab.

He waited a while, but I didn't bother giving anything above a low groan. "Anybody home?" he joked, looking up and rapping at the glass of my fisheye.

"Stop it!" insisted Maxwell, and all-but-shoved him to the back of the cab. I gave a lazy 'tsk-tsk-tsk' in agreement.

"That's no way to start a morning," yawned Edward to whomever it may have concerned.

"Ah well," I responded, "just, erm... be thankful we're heating up in time for the Report."

Edward, who had heard the rumors of my earlier bank engine fiasco with the Wild Nor'Wester, stifled a chuckle. Henry, Gordon and James didn't bother to hold back.

"PFFFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HA ha ha ha!"

"AAAW HA HA HO HO ho ho ho huh huh huh…!"

"Eh HAH ha ha ha hah hah heh heh heh heh...!"

Edward kept quiet because he knew better than to give them a rise. I kept quiet because I knew of no other option.

Soon enough, it was six o'clock, and we were all gathered in time for the Morning Report. Yard Boss Havirty stood before us in his spruce-green uniform and Levi trousers, his goatee and thin, deer-like face standing in stark contrast to his naturally curly, unkempt hair that poked out from under his Zuckerman helmet.

"Good morning to you all, sirs," he shouted clearly after blowing his whistle, as he had done for years.

"Good morning, Foreman," we all answered almost instinctively.

"Today, I have some very important news for you all," Havirty heralded, "so please, pay close attention. I'm looking at you, James." James, who had been admiring a flock of crows against the sunrise, balefully glanced back at the Assistant Director.

"Now, we all heard Big Winnie's speech yesterday afternoon, and he said he would have some legal issues resolved so we could concentrate on the war effort. Among these issues was an ongoing labor lawsuit between a local union and the LMS's Faculty Commission. According to recent reports, the suit has been summarily arbited by royal action in favor of the Union; and as part of their demands, our local Commission representative office has been relocated, from Euston House in London to the Gallant Office Park in uptown Crovan's Gate. I expect you'll all be seeing him by my side quite often- especially you, Gordon. From Monday evening until Thursday morning each week, he'll be making his home in a seaside resort just south of here, and you'll be taking him to and from his office aboard the Nor'Wester. So without further ado, now would be as good a time as ever to get each other introduced. Wait here a moment, I'll call him out." And with that, he stepped into the turntable's control box to use the transceiver inside.

He directed our attention to a black Duesy pulling up nearby. Out from the left-hand front door stepped a man with a rather… heavy-set appearance. I have heard many call him 'pear-shaped', but personally his body reminds me more of a mango. He wore a freshly-ironed blue suit jacket and tie, with a yellow cardigan underneath, matching trousers, a pair of leather dress boots, in which he was almost tiptoeing over the ballast, and a top hat, which he was clutching tightly to avoid having it blown away. He walked over to the turntable with a security guard in uniform at his left, and a butler at his right. Both were keeping uncomfortably quiet, for he was in the foulest of moods.

"It's a pleasure to have you with us this morning, sir," said Havirty as he shook the mogul's gloved hand. Then turning back our way, he announced, "I would like to introduce to you all to Sir Charles Topham Hatt, Faculty Commissioner and Chief Inventory Director of the North Western Division of the London, Midland and Scottish Railway. I am- at least, technically speaking- his assistant.”

"So theyse ah Units 1 through 5?" Sir Hatt almost muttered in a curious tone. "I had olways wondahd…"

"Sir," addressed Havirty as he led the stout gentleman down the turntable in my direction, "here is our Fowler 3F, . Hereabouts we like to call him Thomas."

"Hello, kind Sir," I stammered, feeling almost guilty of receiving his attention. He didn't reply, seeming too intent on looking me over. Perhaps he was admiring how my long, slim funnel and dome up above my smokebox and boiler contrasted with the boxy cab and bunker behind and water tanks to the left and right. Sharp-dressed, refined men are always going on about ergonomics and functional form and such.

"Now, Thomas," stated Havirty clearly, "here are your orders for today: 

after reporting to Tidmouth Station at 7:30 this morning, you must

arrange the morning Limited for Edward at Platform 4 by a quarter to eight,

and the express at Platform 1 on the hour.

Then James's stopping goods is due out by 8:30 at Platform 3,

and a scenic train is expected at Platform 1 at 10 o'clock.

Then comes Elevenses, and between then and tea you shall report to the Tidmouth depot and cooled for an inspection, wash-down and a refill of coal and water. Then, once you are re-lighted,

you are to report back to your post by tea to disassemble the scenic.

A train of goods vans is expected in at that time, and when unloading is finished- which should be around 4 PM- you are to sort the vans evenly in the 3 spurs up-yard.

Processing for the Wester is expected to end at 6:45,

and for the Limited at half-past seven.

When you have finished shunting those, you may report to the Depot for the Evening Report at nine."

"Yes sir," I registered.

Havirty went on to introduce him to Edward. Our Number Two wasn't the strongest or newest of us, he explained to Hatt; in fact, he was at least 60 and his boiler was smaller than mine. But his age meant that he was dependable, experienced and understanding, and so Havirty had found a niche for him here, equipping him so that he could move both backwards and forwards just as well. This made him great for more urgent deliveries, as he could assemble light trains without the help of a shunter.

Henry was our heavy mixed-traffic engine, impartial to trucks or coaches. He was always recognized everywhere he went both for his wide boiler size and his unique bright green Mid-Sodor livery. He was built here on Sodor in 1916, our manager then explained when his turn came, in response to increasing pressure on the old Mid-Sodor Railway by Parliament to increase wartime production. The story goes that the technicians at the Crovan's Gate Engine Works simply cobbled him together from the spare parts of other engines, and I've heard many a disgruntled yard worker call him 'Crovanstein' behind his back. Nonetheless, when the war had ended and work slowed down, the bean counters at Euston decided we were better off keeping him than replacing him. He was always willing to prove himself to Havirty, for better or worse, and that, we all supposed, was his saving grace.

While Henry was haphazardly designed but modest in his ways, our express engine Gordon was anything but. He was a Princess Coronation, purpose-born and bred to run heavy express lines, and the way he spoke of it, he may as well have had royal blood in his boiler tubes. In his emperor's cloak of Midland scarlet, he was given the job of pulling the island division's flagship express train, the Wild Nor'Wester, from Knapford to the seaside town of Brendam, then to Vicarstown just across the strait from the Greater Isle, each morning from 8 to 9, and back again to Brendam and Knapford from 6 to 7 each evening. On Saturdays, when the express didn't run, he was often given stopping or scenic passenger trains, or occasionally heavy freight (a job he considered unfitting of an engine of his stature). As you may guess, 'Prince Gordon' often seemed to forget whose railway it was and who was giving the orders.

James, who wasn't as scrappy as Henry or as purebred as Gordon, still wasn't sure just where he fit in here. A Class 28, he had done local freight work in Lancashire in his early days; but then war broke out, the Government took control, and the bean counters decided to transfer him here. That must've been two months ago, and Edward was still showing him the ropes. James would always go back to the Depot each evening with another rumor from the lips of a workman for him to evaluate. Though James still missed his friends back home, the rest of us- along with Havirty- were beginning to count him among us in our boilers and smokeboxes.

"How come I never get to pull trains like the rest of you?" I thought out loud, listening to the other engines' orders enviously as Havirty made his rounds. "All the brave young men are off on the beaches and landing-grounds, defending their King and country. Why is it that I should stay here?"

"Bah!" James was quick to answer. "It's out of your league. You're already slow enough now, just pushing coaches in and out of the station!"

"Besides," put in Henry, "you don't even have a tender. I bet that little bunker of yours can't hold enough coal for you to make it to Crosby, let alone the Channel!"

"Ah," added Gordon slickly. "We are in agreement, then. To everything there is a season, little Thomas, and a time to every purpose under Heaven: a time to sow and a time to reap, a time to mourn and a time to dance. My season is now, and my purpose is to help run the Northwestern line. It is what I was put on this Earth to do, and so I give this cause all I have to give. Your own time and purpose, Thomas, is not so different from ours. I suggest you give it the respect and dedication it is due."

I looked over to Edward in hopes he would be holding out for me, but all I saw was a glare of frustration mixed with a dash of regret. A glare from Edward, it was rumored, could speak volumes, and the lowered eyebrow and widened aperture and eyelid-angle of this one came together to read: "Proceed at your own risk."

"Fine, then," I taunted back. "You just wait! You'll be sorry! 'Cos when all the Shunting is gotten done, I shall run away to the Beaches myself! And when I come back, I'll make you all regret every last word you just said just now, 'cos I'll be pulling a whole ticker-tape parade, I will! With a big brass band and everything! You just wait and see!"

The other engines took no notice, for Thomas was a little engine with a long tongue.

[lady-nevermore]

Third Session

June 5, 2017

Yesterday I:

5AM - Went to Church with my mom (been finding it really relaxing and peaceful actually).

8 AM - Accompanied and Went with my folks on running their errands.

12/ Noon - Went to the Flea Market (haven’t been in lke forever, saw a bunch of cool stuff like always) and at the behest of my parents, whom also decided to give this a go, got a message......I actually feel like it loosened me up a bit....feel a lot more: sensitive/tender around my shoulder area/neck...at least i don’t feel those damn kinks anymore....but  idunno if i like feeling this tender/sensitive/vulnerable around there. >_>;

1-5 PM - Went the Grocery Store and spent the last remaining hours looking for that dratted, evasive gift-bag (more details below in a sec). >_<;

6-7 PM Ate Dinner, and Took a shower.

8-9 PM - Went to bed, and actually slept well. 

Today I:

- 6:45 AM: Went with my mom, for the third/fourth time this week, walking around our local Half Library/Half Duck Pond (powered-walked for an hour and saw a bunch of the local wildlife: Squirrels, ducks, geese, robin-birds, crows, etc). It’s always very nice and soothing to see, not to mention it makes me smile. :)

- 7:00-11:00 AM: Did some housework, laundry, made and prepared dinner for tonight as well as for the following days, and tried to fix my TV (sorta worked....still pending....we’ll see). 

12/Noon Ate Lunch (made myself a small Tuna Salad with cucumbers, and spinach, with a side of baby carrots, a couple of pieces of store-bought Sushi, and a granola bar); it was really nice actually. :)

1-4 PM Tried to take my mind off my nerves/anxiety a bit, managed to listen to music, and read a bit before mentally preparing myself for My Therapy appointment at 5 PM.

6-7 PM: Ate a healthy dinner and afterwards have been writing this therapy blog up till now......Looking at the clock: it’s 9PM *sigh*  -___-;

9 PM - Gonna get off tumblr, take a shower and head to bed (whilst reading a fanfic); G’night y’all *yawn*

So yeah, Today and Yesterday have been semi-stressful (a little bit hectic) to say the least; Y’all remember my ‘Aunt C aka The Poor Excuse of an Aunt who emotionally traumatized/abused me when I was 5, well her daughter let’s call her “Jay” has a Graduation this upcoming Friday....Ironically enough, Jay is graduating from my old alma-mater/my old high school: AHS High.....I’m not that close to Jay for obvious reasons (I’ve sorta sub consciously stayed away/distanced myself away from them in order to avoid Aunt C.....but then again I rarely like to spend time with or at family reunions, nowadays anyways). >_>;

But that’s beside the point; I’m proud of my younger cousin, proud and happy for her: she’s an AP student, got a full scholarship to UC Davis (aka the College I’ve always dreamed of going as well as the same old alma-mater of my Old Mentor/Friend who passed away but meant a great great deal to me to the point where he left his mark/imparted his memory onto me), and who is so amazingly ambitious that my dear cousin jay dreams of becoming a Doctor. This is why I’m soo damn proud of her (tho a selfishly part of me does feel a twinge of jealousy/envy....but my happiness/pride of her is far greater), She’s probably going to be one of the few in our family who might actually achieve graduating from a legit University, and effing applaud her for that. I mean I know that we may not be close (nor do I know If I would ever want to be, considering her connection to my abuser aka my Aunt C/her mother)....But despite that, it is in my nature to try to look past that and kindly offer a gesture of happiness in congratulating her, cause I am honestly quite proud of her. :)

....Which is why I decided to impart to her what my old mentor/friend imparted onto me when I graduated from AHS High: A nice couple of (and by couple I mean 2) boxes of Tea, specifically Vanilla Chai Tea and Earl Grey ; My Mentor, let’s call him Obi-Wan (cause he was a huge die-hard fan of Star Wars), well Obi-Wan always said that Tea helped him to relax, and I wholly agree with him in this statement, it’s been around 9 years since he introduced me to the Wonders and Joy that is Tea (and 8 years since he passed away from Colon Cancer), but it’s something that I feel will always connect me to him, and in turn is my own personal means of honoring his memory.

So, I hope that my little gift/gesture to Jay (isn’t too cheap/offensive in her eyes or my Aunt C’s in that matter) and that it will help her to relax throughout her fun, but what I’m sure will be quite the stressful venture that is College/University (I dropped out, something I’m ashamed of, so I can’t talk or say much on the matter, but I do hope it’ll help Jay in the long run). I say this in all seriousness, because I ended up having a nervous-breakdown by taking waaaaay too many college-courses/classes (around 5-6 tops) what with my mentor/friend passing away, plus me struggling depression, pushing my friends outta of my life/cutting them off, as well as struggling with said classes and me being sleep-deprived on top of that didn’t help....it was just too damn much and now here I am now (struggling with anxiety and going to therapy....though my issues have been long since precedent and something that I’ve been dealing far longer) but the point is Jay is a High ranking AP student and off to a legit High Ranking University......that can’t be easy on her poor shoulders the bear, which is why I worry and hope she doesn’t repeat my mistakes........hence a few kind, meaningful, soothing words of wisdom on the graduation card I got for her, as well as the heartwarming gesture of Tea. But yeah, I hope it at the very least make her smile (and think oh, how appropriate, Tea: a nerdy gift from my dorky cousin Lady Nevermore). lol x)

So I told my Therapist that I woke up today feeling melancholic for no apparent reason (or so I thought); But my therapist thinks that I might me projecting my stress/anxiety from Yesterday (when I was trying to find/prepare the perfect gift for me to give Jay for her Graduation) onto today; She’s not wrong ....I was sorta freaking out, yesterday,  that we were never going to find the perfect gift-bag for the occasion (not to mention that my indecisiveness/pickiness didn't help)...most of the gift-bags were either too tacky or not appropriate (birthday gift bags for example)....but in the end I got lucky and found the perfect one, yay! :D

So yeah, I talked to my therapist about my anxiety/fear that Jay ro my Aunt C will find my gift cheap/offensive and or worse, she’ll want to start to get close to me (and considering her connection to my abuser, having my Aunt Cas her mother)......yeah that’s not something I’m at all entirely comfortable with, like at all. :/

We talked a little bit about my Mentor/Old Friend, Obi-Wan and how his passing/death affected me aka via anxiety-terror filled nightmares, etc (but I don’t really wanna get into that atm, maybe later or some other time). We discussed how my therapist is glad that I’m continuing to go outside (going to church, walking around the library-duck pond area, and going to stores or to the grocery store with my folks; it’s been three weeks more or less of this now without me feeling too overwhelmed)

2nd Piece of Homework: Note to Self: Notice and become Aware of what triggers my depression or anxiety during stressful/anxiety-filled situation and write it down (this way we can start identifying what triggers my anxiety/depression and what me and my therapist can start to work on).

****Pretty sure I forgot a lot of other stuff, and I will probably try to add more to this later or post another one of these the following weeks, but for now this’ll have to do.

Just got back from therapy (around 6 pm-ish and it took me a while to eat dinner, not to mention get on tumblr and organize my thoughts in order to write this blog) and I’m Feeling sorta tired/drained/low-key sorta cranky and i really really really just wanna go shower and go to bed right now (and recharge); sucks cause I really wanted to start pick up where the anime in Bleach left off, and start reading the manga (Bleach) and / or watch one of the bleach movies....or another Ghibli film.....or hell, at the very least cruise on tumblr (reblogging, chatting, etc) for a bit. *sigh* Ah well, maybe tomorrow. -____-;

Welp, Later, and Good Night my dears! *hugs* :)

- Lady Nevermore

[dontshootmespence]

Passive-Aggressive Partnership

Parts 1-19 @coveofmemories @bleedreid @my-xomatosis-s

Part 20

                                                             -----

Someone had been in her apartment.

“Spence, w-w-what do you mean you didn’t buy these?” Y/N asked, shaking as she collapsed onto the floor into a heap of nervous energy. In three long strides, Spencer came to kneel by her side. “How did they get in here?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I didn’t buy them. You’re gonna stay at my place for a while, while we look into this. Go pack some things.” He brought his hands to the sides of her face, taking her in his embrace.

While Y/N ran into her bedroom in a fit of hysterics to pack what she might need in the immediate future, Spencer called up Garcia. “Garcia, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything for you, 187, what can I do you for?” she said cheerily. 

He turned around to Y/N who was running around the apartment in a frenzy and motioned for her to breathe. “I need you to access the security system at Y/N’s apartment building.”

“Okay...” she said, as she slapped away at the keys. “Why?”

Spencer turned around, approaching the rhododendrons with caution. “Y/N had the day off, so she went out to do some things, and when we met up at her apartment a vase of flowers was sitting on the counter. Neither of us bought them.”

“Oh my god,” she cracked. “Someone was in her apartment? Are you still there right now? Get out of there!”

After packing some clothes, toiletries and anything else she might need, Y/N came to sit on the couch, her head in her hands as she stared blankly at the rhododendrons. “We are still here for a few minutes while she packs some things,” he said as he crossed the apartment to sit by her side. Having her out of his sight for even a second would scare him now. “Can you see if anyone approaches her apartment between 10 AM and 4 PM today?”

Spencer had put the phone on speaker, so both he and Y/N could hear Garcia frantically typing away at the keyboard. “Lemme see, lemme see...here!” she exclaimed. “There is a man in a baseball cap, picking the lock at her apartment at 1:30 this afternoon. He has the flowers in hand. But I can’t see his face that well.”

Why? Why her? Why now? She’d been through enough. And now someone was after her? “What do we do now, Spence?” As she looked around at the apartment, she wondered if she would ever feel safe here again. Someone had stood in her kitchen. Someone had picked the lock. “I’m scared,” she cracked, clutching her heart as it lurched in her chest.

“I know,” he said, bringing his arm around her shoulder. “Garcia, I need you to tell Hotch what’s going on. She’s going to stay with me tonight and I’m bringing her in with me to the BAU in the morning.” 

As Garcia got up and ran toward Hotch’s office, she warned them to be safe. “Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna find him.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

Spencer hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch. “Anything else you might need? We aren’t coming back here until we catch this guy. You’re staying with me and you don’t go anywhere without an escort of some kind.”

She hated the idea of being babysat, but someone was very obviously after her. She’d have to deal. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Once they left the apartment, she looked back up the stairs in horror. She might not ever be back in this apartment again. Honestly, even if they caught the guy, which she truly believed they would, she wasn’t sure if she would ever have the courage to come back here. However, the idea of going to Spencer’s place left her feeling a little bit better; he would be right by her side. 

Thankfully, he didn’t live too far away, so they were soon in his place getting ready to go to bed for the night. When Spencer came out of his bathroom, he found Y/N sitting cross-legged on the bed in a daze. “What if he gets me Spence?” she cried. “What do I do?”

Sitting down next to her, Spencer gathered her to his chest. “You are great at reading people. If someone gets to you, you read them, and you play along as best you can, because I promise, I will not stop until I find you.”

“Will you hold me while I fall asleep?” she asked softly, playing out every possible scenario in her head. They could find him immediately. He could catch her. He could kill her. She shook with the thought of what this man would do to her if he got his hands on her. 

As she shook, Spencer noticed she was so much more timid than he had ever seen her before. It was unsettling. And he vowed to find the person that had reduced her to this. With a deep breath, she leaned into him and pulled the blanket over them both, shaking in his arms as she did her best to fall asleep with seeing a mysterious face surrounded by flowers.

                                                            -----

The following morning, Spencer and Y/N made their way into the BAU together. Upon entry into the bullpen, the team was there, surrounding another vase. “Oh god,” Y/N said, holding her throat in an attempt to keep from vomiting. “Those were delivered this morning?”

“Yea,” Emily said, handing her the piece of paper. “The message was meant for us though.”

You can’t protect her.

With a sob, she turned into Spencer’s chest as he looked at the small piece of paper. “Yes, I can,” he whispered as she cried. “I will.”

“Y/N,” Hotch said, walking toward her from his office. “Is there anyone you can think of that might be coming after you?”

“No,” she cried. “I don’t go anywhere anymore but work, the coffee place, and maybe a store or two. Could this be someone random? Just...you know...found me and fixated on me?”

“It’s possible,” Morgan said. “But the flowers indicate something more obsessional, which would indicate personal knowledge, at least perceived personal knowledge.”

“So you’re saying that either this man knows me, or he thinks he knows me?” she asked. As she craned her head, she could see Garcia coming toward her with a picture.

It was a picture from outside her apartment. “This is the only angle I could get, but does that look like anyone you know?”

Immediately, it dawned on her that although it didn’t seem like she knew him, she did recognized him. “He was at the mall yesterday...” she started, leaning back into Spencer’s arms. “While I was trying on that leather jacket I got. He took pictures of me. When I turned around, he saw me and left. I didn’t think anything of it beyond the common creeper.”

“Okay, hon,” Rossi said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “From now on, you don’t go anywhere without an escort.”

                                                           -----

Over the course of the next week, Y/N went nowhere without either Spencer or another member of the BAU at her side. Whether she went to the office, to grab a cup of coffee, or even to use a public bathroom, someone was right there with her. Twice more, rhododendrons found their way into her field of vision. Once at her coffee shop and the other at her dry cleaner. Both owners claimed that a man came in, paid for what he ordered and left, “forgetting” a bouquet of flowers along the way. Whoever this man was, he was everywhere. Pervading every aspect of her life until she felt like she couldn’t turn anywhere without feeling a breath at the nape of her neck. Another morning, another walk into the BAU when she should’ve been going to her office.

“Y/N?” her intern, Jessica, said into the phone. “I have an emergency. Can you get over here?” Jessica didn’t panic. That was the reason she’d hired her, so if she was panicking something was definitely wrong. Assuring her she’d be there as soon as possible (apparently there was a paperwork issue), Y/N turned to the team and asked if someone would drive her over.

“I’ll take you,” JJ said. “Something wrong?”

“Jessica’s just having an issue with paperwork and she’s panicking, so I told her I’d drive over.”

“Let’s go.”

Within 10 minutes, they were outside the medical examiner’s office. “I’ll be right out,” Y/N said. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Paperwork is stupid.”

“It always is,” JJ laughed.

As Y/N walked inside, she wondered how much longer she would have to be escorted to and from work and everywhere else she felt like going. Freedom was vastly underrated. After turning the key in the lock and walking through to her office in the back, she looked up.

“I’m sorry,” Jessica said, shaking as a man stood behind her with a gun to her back. “He said he’d shoot me if I didn’t call.” Emerging from the shadows, the man that had followed her to the mall and stood outside her apartment with a vase full of flowers, stood before her. He lifted his hand to his glasses to take them off.

He had a beard now. Crow’s feet forming around his eyes from the wear of the past decade. But those eyes. Those piercing eyes. Ones she would never forget. It was him. “Professor Boyland. What are you doing here?”