#i eat breath and think rock lobster

[shrimp-moment]

i think my life started going downhill when i was exposed to Rock Lobster snd gained an unhealthy obsession with it. or maybe when i ate bugs

[androcola]

So when it comes to Michael, does he have an autoimmune disease like Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lupus, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, or Fibromyalgia? I could see his muscles and joints tensing up like they are in mid lift and it lasting hours. The pain can be excruciating and your whole body gets sore to the touch and you sweat excessively from the strain. He could be in the middle of walking and talking and then his body just tightens up and Micky has to carefully lift him because at that point his feet become lobster claws and are impossible to walk on. Sometimes it even can give you Bell’s Palsy symptoms and it forces your neck muscles to painfully twist to one side, tendons popping, mouth droops, liquid fire shoots up your neck, and you can’t talk. Your hands turn into claws too and you can’t pick anything up. Sometimes it can last for hours to even days and it can cause tendons to snap with the pressure. People sometimes will rock back and forth to relieve the tension or rub their feet together causing painful sores. Sometimes Lidocaine patches with the high dosage of 5% can help with the pain, muscle relaxers, or even simple ice, or heat. There’s never one clear solution and each experience can call for something else. You’re never too sure what’s going to work. But don’t let him near (NSAIDs) because they are great for pain and inflammation but they cause intestinal bleeding. I’d like to see Michael try one of those freezing chambers to help his pain that athletes use! I think he would freak out but usually the people stand right next to you and talk to you to distract ya from the below zero temperatures. Then he can go home and pass out blissfully for 2 days straight because it makes you feel that good.

Agh!! I could also see him suffering from debilitating cluster migraines.

Due to his meds that lower your immune system to stop it from attacking your body, Michael would be susceptible to getting sick a lot with flu, colds, pneumonia, stomach bugs, infections, etc etc… someone in the pad is sick…welp so is Michael. Sighs.

A lot of his symptoms reminds me of them. Or even Crohns or Ulcerative Colitis cause similar issues from stomach and intestinal to joint and muscle pain. Crohns could also cause issues within the mouth and throat like deep linear ulcers and lesions. I recently learned acid reflux, if not taken care of, can cause cancer of the throat. A lot of diseases obviously cause anxiety, depression, rapid weight loss, weakness, tenderness to the stomach and chest areas, pain in back and tail bone, chest pain, fast heart rate, palpitations, arms going numb, the risk of your intestines twisting, GERD, the risk of blockage in bowel and the intestinal lining thickening due scar tissue, breathing issues, painful stomach bloating, vomiting, diarrhea, and constipation. I could see Michael having to go on a very high dosage of Prednisone (steroids) for any of the diseases mentioned. He could get extremely angry, irritable, losing his temper, can’t keep still so cleans the house constantly despite it being spotless, non-stop talking, cooking and baking everything under the sun, can’t control his eating, absolutely ravenous, and gaining some weight in the process. That weight can be tricky to get rid of it’s mostly due to water weight, but overtime it’ll go away once you’re feeling better and can move around. But make sure he doesn’t get off his steroids too quickly. It causes painful drug withdrawals. Ooof. There’s just so much. XD sorry. I live with family who are doctors, surgeons, morticians, pharmacists, and those with these diseases including me so I like to kinda discuss these things and also torture poor Michael. Heh.

ouh waow. OKAY

So mikes arthritis is just osteo arthritis. he's had many MANY repeated and severe injuries throughout his life, coupled with bad habits and not really caring for his body the way he should, which likely contributed to the development of his arthritis. he's a very stressed out and sick guy and never entirely learns proper self care, so he has constant and very painful flare ups, mainly in his knees, wrists, elbows, ankles and fingers, which often causes very painful swelling and can make it extremely hard to do things some days, including just walking, feeding himself, personal hygiene, etc etc. He probably has about half a million different pain killers and spends some days totally knocked out on them 😓 usually during bad flare ups he'll soak in a hot bath to relieve the swelling and pain.

as for his immune system, he does have a very poor immune system and is kinda sick with Something on almost a Weekly basis. constant flus, colds, fevers, stomach bugs, and he does get pneumonia very often. constant infections like sinus infections, ear infections, etc etc. he can get sick Very easily. even if someone around him has the most Minor cold, if he gets it, it'll put him out for about a week. Cold and wet weather is dangerous treading ground for him cuz he really is very susceptible to pneumonia and often ends up in the hospital because of it. he has to bundle up HEAVILY. especially when he's younger and extremely underweight.

during the height of his ED, his sicknesses would be a million times worse because his body was just far too weak to fight any of it. there are several times where he's nearly died as a result. by the time he's older, mainly around the 80s, he's able to manage a bit better now that his body is nourished, but it still has less energy than that of an average man.

he also has terrible allergies that, without medication, can cause break outs of hives, terrible sinus headaches and pressure in his head, swelling eyes, trouble breathing, just general misery. he takes some very heavy allergy medications and they usually do the trick most of the time.

he does have chronic stomach issues due to his ED, considering the fact that it lasted So long. literally about 10 years. the fact he made it so long is a miracle with how bad it was. He has a hard time with digestion and gets bad stomach aches often, and has some...bathroom trouble quite often.

sometimes if he over eats, sometimes he ends up throwing up what he ate unintentionally. he can't have very big meals for a long time. I think his stomach has permanent damage from all the abuse.

he also has weaker bones due to his ED and is much more prone to breaks and fractures . what wouldn't break a bone in someone else might break a bone in him, and it takes a little longer for him to heal.

he does get cluster headaches! those are very very terrible and unfortunately are also chronic. his suffered a lot of head trauma throughout his life, mostly due to his father. his migraines are very scary because one moment it'll feel very mild, as if in the blink of an eye, it'll be like someones taken an icepick behind his eye. often times he ends up in such debilitating pain that he just loses all control, screaming and crying, or moaning and sobbing, writhing in excruciating pain.

the guys feel very helpless in this all because there really isn't anything they can do at all. they can't always be prevented, and they can't be cared for when they're in full swing. the only thing they can do is sit by his bedside and hold his hand and try their best to soothe him while he screams and cries.

eventually in his older age, around his 50s, he ends up with heart issues. likely due to his ED, and chronic stress and also lowkey a caffeine addiction. and eventually he ends up on medication for his heart. and of course, as you inspired for me, POTS! he's been on like half a million medications throughout his life, and has a large sack full of different meds. he has like a fuckin pharmacies worth 😭 he spends his whole life so sick and in and out of hospitals constantly

also, after his car wreck in 1974, he ends up with a permanent limp. it was much more severe and noticable throughout the 70s and into the early 80s, but eventually it lessens a little, but is definitely still noticable. he went thru EXTENSIVE rehab and physical therapy due to the severity of the accident, but still has some recurring aches and pains related to it.

TL;DR: mike is their medical baby ❤️

[astoldbyaja]

His Soul Ch.11 ~Wakanda Forever~

Nama, Elder of the Jabari, ran powder white lines along my face. I was still as we sat across from each other staring into each other’s eyes. Nama has seen many in her youth and has been my brother’s most trusted advisors.

“When your feet take its last steps from the mountain earth into the new earth you will be Princess of Wakanda. No longer will you be able to go about your life as a Jabari maiden. You will have new expectations that are different from our own in the mountains. Until your brother marries, you will hold the key to the Gorilla tribe’s bloodline. You will be considered valuable among the people for marriage, and our enemies for power. If you wish to continue to be an ambassador, you must accept that there will be dealings with outside forces that will do all they can to ensure Wakanda bends to their will. You must learn to separate your heart from your body and your body form your mind and your mind from your heart. A perfect cycle of disconnect. What you want will not always matter, but what will be for the good of your family is what will matter…

I listened to her words in my mind as I opened my eyes looking at the rocks around me. My face was painted all the way over my body. I raised my head high and raised my hands as well. I hated the Talokan bracelet on my wrist and hated that my kimoyo beads were in my bag which were held elsewhere.

I began to gently harmonize to the rocky ceiling. The mourning had begun, and I raised my hands higher to the ceiling and gently sway side to side.

“Hanuman, please hear me. Today two new warriors come to you before their time. Welcome them into the world of their ancestors with open arms. Watch over them and me as I no longer see a future of freedom for myself. Please bring Kore, Zura and Hibo home to their families safe and unharmed. Bring me home to my brother and my people so that all of this madness can end.” I prayed feeling a tear stream down my eyes and I took a few even breaths before looking down and harmonizing the burial music of my people.

Normal POV

Attuma watched her with gentle curiosity as she moved. The way her body swayed, and her voice echoed into the ceiling brought a shiver down his spine. She was beautiful even when she was mourning. One of my servants approached with a platter of foods and bowed.

“I have brought Lady Attuma’s meal, Lord Attuma.” she said. Attuma’s eyes never left Ansara’s.

“Leave it on the table, but do not disturb her.” he commanded in a low, almost mesmerized tone. The servant nodded and quietly moved over toward the stone table, silently bowing, then quietly setting the food down, then bowing in the woman’s direction again in respect before bowing at Attuma and leaving.

Ansara’s POV

I continued to harmonize to the ceiling until my strength left me. I finally opened my eyes and looked down. I could smell the aroma of different foods. I heard small feet entering the cave earlier, but I refused to acknowledge it. When I finally looked over toward the table I saw that it was food. I was unsure if I should eat it or not, but I could feel my stomach grumbling lowly. I sighed and stood up and moved over toward the table to look it over.

There were different fruits and dead sea creatures on the table. I eyed them all with puffy, tired eyes. I was supposed to be home today.

“Is the food not to your liking?” I could hear Attuma’s voice as he approached with a cool sway of his body. I leaned away from him as he neared the table.

“It’s not the food it’s the company.” I replied. I could see a brief look of confusion on his face until I noticed his cheeks rise and a deep chuckle left his lips.

“If you give Talokan and our food a chance I think you might like it.”  he said moving to remove his mask yet again, the routine hiss of air and the leaking of water moved through my ears. He picked up one of the lobsters and just bit down on it, a loud crunch ripping through the cave and bouncing off the wall. His cheek grew large as he chewed, and I flinched at the sight of him.

“Kore and the scientists are they alright?” I asked. The crunching slowly died down as he swallowed.

“The ambassador and the scientists are fine. Because Wakanda treated our children so well, we are giving them the same level of care and respect to the women.”

I felt a wave of relief at his words.

“I should also be in a cell with them.” I replied, the translator speaking mechanically to Attuma who scoffed.

“You are the princess of Wakanda and my wife, you would never see the inside of a Talokan holding cell.” He said firmly. I looked down and moved to grab some fruit and gently took a bite of it.

“Why not, I am still a prisoner here just the same.” I said. Attuma faced me with a serious expression.

“You… Lady Attuma…” he said once again in broken English, and I looked up at him. Was that my new title now; to show I was his possession? He began to walk closer to me and I visually tensed and flinched beneath his deep gaze. “Three… days.”

I know this man was not reminding me that he plans to force himself on me! He smirked at my disturbed face and turned and picked up his mask and left the area. In his stead were some women and men with spears in their hands, obviously their guard.

Normal POV

The council room was filled with outrage now.

“THOSE TRAITORS THOSE SNAKES!” Adama roared.

“This was there plan from the start!” Kwame added.

“We cannot let this grave offense go unanswered.” M’Kathu roared.

“What can we do! They have Princess Ansara, our best ambassador and two of our top scientists under Shuri!” Zawavari yelled. Everyone was speaking over each other as M’Baku sat deep in his throne with a heavy glare on his face. Ayo and her Dore stood behind him with dark looks on their faces. In M’Baku’s hand was a knew knobkerrie, only this time it was a vibranium knobkerrie. It had more weight to it that M’Baku liked because it could give more force when used. He gave two heavy bangs to the ground with his new weapon, and everyone was silent. He stood up and looked around at everyone.

“Namor and his people have used our hospitality as weakness and used it to kidnap the princess of Wakanda. I want ideas to safely get my sister and all the captives back.” he said. There was a brief silence before Zawavari leaned forward.

“If we are to do this, then we need to stop acting so weak!” she said and now everyone looked at her and M’Baku looked at her with a glare but kept his composure.

“Go on.” he said wanting her to continue speaking. The Mining tribe leader stood.

“My king… when our allies snuck into our vibranium labs to steal our resources and threaten our scientists, the former queen returned them to their leaders with a threat in mind. Every time someone threatens us, we return them to their leaders with a slap on the wrist�� now our princess is captured, and two of your tribesmen are dead, their families wanting justice and an explanation for why their kin is dead…” she said with strength in her words. “It is time for Wakanda to show we are not only merciful, but we will answer any injustice against us with the rightful justice!”

Now the air was stiff in the room and M’Baku looked at her more preserved. He knew what she was implying and looked around at everyone in the room to see their faces agreed, some even nodding at her words.

They did not want to take prisoners anymore, they wanted blood. M’Baku slowly turned and faced his thrown, eyes meeting Ayo and the Dore Milaje. They have fought and they have killed. Their eyes showed him that they were ready to kill for Wakanda as was their duty.

M’Baku has taken life in many battles, and he knew that preserving and showing leniency to his enemies were the ways of the former rulers.

“In order to have our justice we need to hear Namor first. I want him to look me in the face and explain his betrayal before Wakanda goes to war. We know their power, and we need to move with precise calculation. We cannot attack them in the water like last time. When Namor reaches out, I will speak with him. We will meet again later in the week to discuss further action.” he said. The counsel nodded and slowly got up and left the room. The Dora saluted their king before marching from the room. Ayo waited as she could tell the king was still very bothered.

M'Baku looked at her.

“Bring me Shuri.” he said his tone dark and serious. Ayo bowed.

“My king.” she replied and marched from the room.

Ansara’s POV

I looked up at the ceiling as hours passed. Was it still day or was evening approaching? I was moved toward an inground pool, some of the servants had joined, telling me that royal members were to be bathed by servants. I was stiff and uncomfortable as the women washed every inch of my body, even my most sensitive areas. One of the women, Akna, who said she would be the main servant to tend to every need smiled at me. Like all the others, her skin was blue, but she had a beauty about her I could not explain. She had big eyes and beautiful slick hair pulled back into three buns, pearls adorning each bun.

“Is the water comfortable, Lady Attuma. It is not too cold or too hot?” she asked. Different cloths were on mt breasts and stomach, and I nodded.

“It is fine… you do not have to call me Lady Attuma.” I said. Akna gave a gentle wince.

“I am sorry milady, but we cannot call you anything else. Our king may call you Princess, but here in the grotto of our Lord Attuma you are his wife, his Lady Attuma.” she said gently. I sighed and suddenly gasped as I felt a cloth rubbing against my pubic bone and I tensed but remained still.

“Fine…” I replied and remained silent, my body stiff. Akna tilted her head, her eyes showing worry.

“You are very stressed Lady Attuma. I know your situation has worried you. Would you like me to pleasure you to ease your body?” she asked. My eyes snapped at her and I thought maybe she was joking, but her eyes did not show this.

“I… no. I don’t need anyone touching me!” I said already embarrassed now turning from everyone.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, milady. Lord Attuma has assigned me personally to see your every need met-”

“Please all of you leave! I will finish bathing myself!” I snapped now wanting to be alone. The ladies bowed and got up from the pool and left. I did not even have servants like this in Wakanda to do personal tasks like that for me. I would never ask anyone to do that. I needed to see Namor or even Kore to ensure she was okay!

After some time, Akna returned and placed a long wrap around my body that flowed over my curves. Apparently, this would be what I would wear to bed. She led me down the hall into the familiar sleep area only this time, Attuma was there and very much naked. Akna bowed and left me standing there to watch as the general took down his hair and set the last of his weapon on a large table filled with his armor and weapon.

He finally turned to face me with a tender gaze. Well no doubt about it, it was night by how dim the room was. Attuma began to approach me. Now I stiffened immediately since it was very evident his cock was semi erect and only growing bigger the closer, he got to me.

“Mi… alma.” he said with a heavy tone and I felt fear grow in my eyes as he neared me. However, after a few inches he stopped and looked down at me, his hair falling over his shoulders, his eyes only softening on me now. I felt him slowly reach out to take my hand. His hand was so calloused and rough. He held my hand with one hand then rubbed the top of my palm with the other, his eyes focused on my skin.

“Do not worry princess, I will keep my word and not take you tonight. Come let us sleep. Tomorrow you will meet with K'uk'ulkan.”  he said and began to pull me lightly toward the large round marble slab covered with numerous furs and blankets and pillows. His pull, although soft, left no room for discussion. To ensure I didn’t fall over on my feet, I quickly moved forward.

“Can I see Kore and the scientists?” I asked. Attuma looked at me with a casual look and smiled.

“I will see to it you are able to see them.” he said, and I sighed with relief and nodded.

“Thank you.” I said. He only grunted before motioning his head for me to get into the bed and I stared at it for a brief moment never having slept in the same bedding as a man before. That’s when I realized his mask was still on, and of course his body still blue. I looked at him confused.

“You will sleep here too?” I asked. He looked at me confused and nodded firmly/

“Of course, you are my wife, and I will sleep in the same bed with you.” he said. Yeah, I got that, but doesn’t he need the water?

“But the water… won’t that impact your skin or something?” I asked. He gave a gentle smile.

“Are you worried about me, mi alma?” he asked. I tensed a bit with embarrassment.

“I- no! But I’m pretty sure you need the water more than I do.” I said. He chuckled and suddenly scooped me off my feet holding me bridal style. I yelped gently in shock.

“I can handle sleeping in the air as long as I have my mask. You need not worry about me.” he said now placing his knees on the bed and crawling on top and slowly placing me down on the pillow. His thick hair fell over us now and his eyes were dark for a moment. I was still feeling his large and heavy hand come up to gently caress my cheek, his thumb rubbing over the spot under my eye lid. My heart beat faster as he just loomed over me. “I could watch you like this until the sun comes up.”

Please don’t! After a moment I whimpered to show my discomfort and slowly he moved off to the side to lie beside me and I gave a gentle sigh of relief. However, the moment was short lived, as I felt my wrist being grabbed and my body was pulled into the firmness of his chest.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a slight panic. One handheld my wrist to his chest, a thumb caressing my fingers, and his other hand wrapped around my back rubbing it soothingly. He now closed his eyes, his mask still on his face.

“Holding you, something I have wanted to do for a very long time.”  he said. I was very tense not liking the fact I couldn’t pull away. He was too strong. I finally stilled after a while, my neck muscles stiff from trying to refrain from resting on his chest, but I finally gave in and let my face fall against his skin so my body would relax. It felt… weird being in a bed with a man. I could smell his skin, briny, fresh with the hint of sea salt and wet stone. It was like an oceanic musk, create from the marine plants and earth of the water. With my hand forced to rest over his chest, I could feel his chest rise and fall calmly and evenly. His hand never released my own.

I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sleep, but after maybe an hour of staring at the cave wall across from me, in this position, I managed to gently close my eyes and let sleep take me.

[fishfactsfriday]

Most people who have been at the coast have seen barnacles but very few people know much about them.

Well, let’s start off simple. Barnacles are crustaceans and are related to shrimp and crabs. Yeah, that’s right. Kind of hard to tell at a glance. They are very common and latch onto anything stationary and that is because they are sessile, which means they lack the ability to move themselves. Those shells they live in are actually attached with a cement gland that the barnacles have. Yes, literal, natural cement.

You know those little feelers that they stick out to eat? Well those are actually its legs that it uses to filter feed. These are called cirri and can actually help with its ‘breathing’. As they are filter feeders they generally tend to have a diet consisting of plankton and other microscopic organic materials.

When someone says barnacle, people usually think of the small rock-like acne on rocks and ships and while those are barnacles and certainly the most common, known as acorn barnacles.

However there are literally around a thousand species of barnacles. Such as the goose barnacle which have a long stalk.

These are actually edible and widely consumed, considered a delicacy in places such as Portugal and Spain known as percebes

It is also eaten in other places, like Morocco and historically consumed by the indigenous people of California.

While we are on goose barnacles, there was a historic misconception regarding these crustaceans and geese. This was when people did not know that birds migrated and thus had never seen them nest in Europe. It was actually believed that goose barnacles were the eggs or young of geese and that full grown geese would emerge from them. This is generally a medieval era idea and is attributed to the christian church.

Most barnacles, with few exceptions (the goose barnacle is actually an exception), are hermaphroditic, meaning they do if fact contain both sexual organs. Now if you will recall, barnacles are sessile and cannot move. As such, this does make sexual reproduction difficult. To combat this, barnacles have evolved in the most hilarious way.

Barnacles have extraordinarily long penises.

Barnacles actually have the largest penis to body size ratio in the entirety of the animal kingdom.

No I’m not joking.

Behold.

Anyways we’ve discussed that barnacles can only like to situate themselves on stationary or slow moving objects, like rocks or turtles. Well did you know there is a species that actually has chosen to live upon dolphins?

Yep! There is a genus that lives exclusively on the fins of porpoises!

In order to get a good grip though, they ‘bite’ into the skin and dig in to hold on leaving a star shaped scar when they die and fall off.

This next section is going to cover parasitism so just to make sure everyone is comfortable the paragraphs and pictures will be censored. Please look at your own discretion.

Did you know that barnacles can be parasites? Neither did I until yesterday. It’s true and there are quite a few that have taken to this life style. Rhizocephala is a parasitic barnacle that goes after its cousins, mainly crabs and lobsters. When a larva finds a female crab, it will pierce the crab’s egg sac with a needle-like appendage inject a clump of cells. Now that this has happened, the crabs fate is sealed. It will grow inside the crabs body, wrapping around its organs, muscles, and even eyes. It will continue growing to the point it will bulge out of the egg sac, changing the crab eggs to its own eggs. Another barnacle will come along, fertilize the eggs, and then the crab will climb atop a rock and release the larva, letting the process happen again. This barnacles anatomy has deviated to this very specific lifestyle that it in comparison to other barnacles it is almost unrecognizable.

But perhaps that wasn’t interesting enough for you. Well that’s fine because I have another one. This one has chosen its host to be that of the dogfish, a species of small, deep sea sharks. Most barnacles that hitch a ride generally do not harm the host but this one is an exception. This barnacle does not have a shell and thus will dig itself into the dogfish and take refuge under the skin, in the eyes, the spiracles, and mouth. Sometimes even in the sexual organs, effectively castrating the shark. It has roots that will anchor surprisingly deep into the dogfish and sap the nutrients from the surrounding tissue.

Anelasma squalicola anatomy vs a goose barnacle

September 2, 2022

Sources lost

[nimbus-cloud-90]

Hey, here's more of this-

Chapter Six:

Does Anyone Know How To Read A Map? Asking For A Friend.

When I woke up the first thing I saw was Nile’s lobster staring into my soul. Nile stopped clinging onto me and spread out toward Bella more.

I don’t know why that makes me sad, but it does.

The lobster crawled closer toward me and put one of its pincers on my hand. Then turned around and crawled back to Nile, leaving me confused and scared.

I noticed Agni staring into the distance, seemingly at nothing in particular.

“Hey, you alright?” My voice must’ve spooked him because he jumped a bit.

“Oh, yeah, I think so, I don’t know, alright doesn’t sound like the correct word but I feel slightly better than I used to.” He said, not turning to me, fidgeting with something in his hands.

I don’t know what to say to that.

“Do you and Bella not get along or-”

“It’s just, complicated, that’s all. We get along out of convenience.” Agni said, in a slightly angry one I wasn’t sure who it was directed toward.

“Okay, then.” I said, not really knowing what I could say and walked away from Agni, a newfound worry on my list.

“Ah, don’t worry about him, I looks like those guys who listen to MCR on repeat!” My godly companion tried to comfort me.

It didn’t work, I still had this pit in my stomach that won’t go away easily.

“Oh hey Jake, j’mornin’-” Nile said sat up in a slumped manner.

I smiled at the sight, “Good morning to you too Nile.”

“Yeah.” He said with a dazed smile.

“Ugh, romance, this early in the morning.” Bella groaned as she stretched.

“What’re you talking about?” Nile groggily asked.

“I’ve got no idea, probably something in her dreams.” She just gave us a weird, angry-ish(?) look. She got up and put on what looked to be a fairy bottle necklace from her back pocket, “And I still don’t know why I have to wear this.” She sighed.

“Oh, I have a feeling you know more than you’re willing to admit.” Agni said but never elaborated upon. Bella looked like she wanted to murder Agni.

Nile pats me on the shoulder, “It’s alright, they’re being friendlier than they used to be to each other. I’ll tell you stuff if they start getting ugly, don’t worry, I remember what it was like in your position.” he said and gave me a reassuring smile that was supposed to make me feel easier about the situation.

Not better, just less stressed about the interaction.

“Yoo-hoo, Peter Parker and Mary Jane, where are we supposed to be headed?” Bella asked as she started eating a granola bar.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure, BUT before you say ANYTHING we aren’t lost!” I say as I take out my fucking literary poem.

“Do I sense some hostility?”

“If you feel bad, give me a better map!” I said and waved it around like a surrender flag.

“Here let me help you,” Nile said as I showed him the madness, “Um Bella-”

“Fucking flibbleflam give it here!” She snatched it from me and Nile and all that bravado went straight out the window when she saw what the map was and looked as lost as we did.

“Oh come on guys, seriously.” Agni sneaked up behind Bella and snatched it away, “Why’d you bring a poem with you?”

“GO ASK THE FUCKING GODS!!!!"

“Wait, what does a ferry have to do with de-” Nile suddenly cut himself off and took the map from Agni and sprinted in every direction until he came back with a rock, then he sat on the ground next to us.

He wrote down the midnoon ferry part and then proceeded to write gods in capital letters next to it and connected the two with a line, then under the god bubble he wrote Greek, then he wrote underneath it Charon, then connected that to the midnoon ferry part. Then above all of that mess wrote: ‘There’s some kind of god or godly being or object that leads to the underworld.’ He then stood up and stepped away from his work. He was breathing as if he ran fifty miles without stopping, he then looked at the map and quietly said sorry and gave it back to me.

“Nile holy shit.” Me, Agni and Bella said.

“What?”

“YOU’RE A GENIUS!!!”

“What?” All three of them said but I ignored Agni and Bella in favor of praising Nile.

“I DON’T ENTIRELY UNDERSTAND YOUR THOUGHT PROCESS BUT I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT!!!” He’s not wrong right?

“No shit he’s correct, why would a midnoon ferry be relevant?”

“Wait, how does Nile even know this?” Agni asked.

“Mythology class baby, while you and your boyfriend did your bullshit, I drowned myself in the lesson to ignore it all!” This is the first time I’ve heard Nile insult someone.

I’m not sure whether I love it or hate it. Agni didn’t seem fond of it, that’s for sure.

“Okay so what ferry’s work at midnoon?” Bella asked.

“Well, if we take a look at that sign over there, Morgan City is five miles from here, so I think we should ask around once we get there.” I said and pointed to the sign.

“Okay troops, let’s march!” Nile said and picked up his lobster as Agni helped me put my blankets in my dufflebag.

“Do you happen to know what the rest of the map means?” I asked NIle.

“No clue."

“Godsdamnit Nile!” Bella whispered to the Heavens.

_____________

@computerglitch306 @shadie-cat @ask-and-i-answer I hope you like New Orleans :)

Edit: forgot to mention #Sus Agni

[scottappreciation]

prompt starters.

“Do you think you’ll fit in my purse?”

“They put butter on the table. Butter!”

“But why did I have to be red?? It’s so… common.”

“This is not how I imagined my spring break.”

“You realize three inches tall is the opposite of threatening, right?”

“Go sit on a rock.”

“This explains the flies so much.”

“Do I look hot with a fishing rod?”

“Where. Are you getting. Your brine??”

“Would you consider cracking a shell closer to breaking a nail or a spine?”

“I said put the tongs down.”

“Are you sure you’re not part hermit?”

“Do NOT be your own anchor!”

“I am literally a sea creature.”

“I’ll be over in a pinch.”

“Put me down!”

“They tried to sell me to Red Lobster!”

“Rubberband him.”

“Some pets need to be declawed.”

“They made me from Seitan.”

“Maybe we can just drop him off at the pet store?”

“I think this means you have a tail.”

“Not all crabs do crabby things.”

“I think they want to eat me.”

“You know what sign we decided to name after the crab? Cancer.”

“Ever wonder why we call it crab mentality?”

“Tide’s coming in.”

“The pinch is a gift.”

“I have ten legs and I know how to use them.” 

“I hate nets.” 

“You really have to learn not to trust a frog.” 

“I drive a Sea-Doo”

“Take a deep breath- wait do you breathe?”

“Kiss me.”

“Is that a pot of boiling water?”

“Garlic butter!!!!”

“Did you just scuttle? In the hallway?”

“What were you doing in the middle of the lake anyway?”

“Crabs can’t get sick.”

“It’s just a piece of driftwood.”

“Do you need a shirt?”

“Let me in?”

“It’ll only take a second.”

“Is that really the best idea?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Hold still, okay?”

“I think you look pretty cute.”

“What happened?”

“You’re doing great.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[georgeromerosanalcavity]

thank you for seeing the vision. i’m here to talk about ewan now, i like the point you brought up about the way ewan cops out. you get it!!!!!! ewan and logan both purposefully isolate their descendants, creating little “playgrounds” for them. i think it’s their way keeping everyone on a leash, keeping them close so whenever they’re feeling raw about their evil little lives they can look to their descendants and say “i did what i could, i gave you everything you could possibly need to transcend this.” like a couple of old wardens, pacifying themselves with that same narrative and lashing out when anyone says otherwise. they also seem to moralize the hardness they experienced under their uncles care, seeing it as having shaped them to be the men they are today in the most uncreative sense. like they’re aware it was awful but they both latched on similar narratives to survive, injecting their anguish with weird almost heroic meaning. ALSO i think ewan has the same need to be venerated by his descendants as logan, but he’s too passive aggressive for it to be as obvious.

I’m in love with you you are my rock my sun moon and stars without you there is no reason for being….

But fuck what you said about them being “old wardens” so FUCKING TRUE they view their descendants as property and people permanently under them….. Ewan disdains Marianne and Greg for depending on him as well as Logan’s money and in the same breath will skewer his grandson and then beg his fascist brother for money.

And I always think about Greg begging Ewan to let him eat and rest after an entire day of driving and not even being able to eat, how Greg sounded like a child begging to eat….

It’s like Logan seems like the kind of father to beat his son for ordering lobster, for sure, and to me, Ewan seems like the kind of guardian to send his grandson to bed without dinner. Again this is all speculation but I’m just now realizing how Ewan and Greg in the Thanksgiving episode might be another application to the whole food motif in Succession. How Ewan doesn’t acknowledge Greg’s absence throughout the entire day, and doesn’t acknowledge his need to eat either

[aceofspadegrass]

Good Old Drama and Gossip

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Morizono Aguni (Mentioned), Chishiya Shuntaro (mentioned), Last Boss (Briefly Mentioned), and me

Genre: Crack. This time it's just blind!Niragi being fussy and me stealing Aguni in the background

1.5k words

Part 3 of being a little shit to Hatter and getting away with it. But hey, at least there's the added bonus of Niragi being dramatic while being able to see nothing. A shame I didn't arm him with a cane and let him smack people.

Hatter was going to get them this time, he swears on it. It’s been more than a week since they last struck, and as far as he knew, there was not a single invasion into his Beach. He was always on alert, just in case something happened. It didn’t get in the way of his primary duty to his people, but the thought never left him to make sure everything he owned was in place.

Checking for any of the other’s stuff wasn’t anything Hatter worried about, thankfully. For some odd reason he could only interpret as ‘being too handsome and irresistible for his own good’ only his stuff was ever snatched like a cookie in the elusive cookie jar. He didn’t want to develop more stress lines making sure his men were okay in their personal possessions. Wrinkles shall only come to accentuate him, make him look good, not just tired and old.

That privilege can go to Aguni.

The man in question was at the very least rocking it, made him look fierce. Hatter could appreciate that in him, and it makes his job easier in subduing the more…. rambunctious of their group.

In fact, one of Aguni’s more problematic men, Niragi, had come back to a game with bad eye issues, even more worse than the appointed med staff could figure out. Apparently the game the oversaturated oil stain was in broke his eyes to the point where he couldn’t use them for a good while. In short, Niragi was left completely blind, and Aguni now had to deal with an increasingly whiny and temper hearty baked bean burrito. Hatter found it funny, but oh boy was it wearing out his poor fried dumpling.

It also left quite a hole in the defense for the intruders, so the issue of Aguni and Niragi was also an issue for the safety of the Beach (and Hatter’s stuff) as a whole.

No point thinking about this now. Hatter leans back on the sofa, sipping at a cold blend of juices and relaxing. His feet were killing him right about now, Hatter flexing his stiff toes and internally begging for a good pedicure to fly in through the doors and give his feet a touch of heaven and bliss.

The door in fact does fly open as the thought passes his head, Hatter sitting up and raising an eyebrow as Niragi stands there, breathing heavily. The sunglasses Hatter has so graciously offered to him in order to make him both sexier and protect his eyes from the sunlight so he didn’t permanently damage them further was slipping slightly off his face, Niragi fixing them after a few more pants.

“ You…..! You fucking coconut slut!” Niragi rasps out, and Hatter quirks his eyebrow in mild amusement, leaning forward and sipping his juice quietly as one arm rested on his knee. Niragi points a finger in Hatter’s direction, if Hatter was 45 degrees to the left and standing. “ You fucking left me tied on that bed for an hour! What fucking gives!”

Hatter says nothing, as Niragi storms in….. and immediately slams into the back of the other couch, Hatter bursting into laughter. Niragi on the other hand starts spouting obscenities and kicks the couch, and the red cocktail man notices the lack of real gun in Niragi’s possession, other than the super soaker that was substituted. Aguni probably replaced it, knowing that a blind trigger happy man was a danger to society and himself.

“ What the fuck is this bull?! What- Oh for fucks sakes this isn’t Chishiya’s room is it.” Niragi finally sputters out, grabbing the top edge of the couch and massaging the soft cushions underneath his long fingers.

“ Oh, I wish I was. Now what was this about being tied to a bed, hm?” Hatter croons, which earns him a hearty middle finger.

“ Like heck am I about to tell you. Okay, let’s try this again-“ Niragi turns around, but Hatter whistles at him, Niragi slowly spinning back around to face Hatter’s general position. “ What is it, I don’t have all day lobster man.”

“ Aww, not even a minute? Well, it’s just a question. Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied until you regain your senses? After all, you have nothing to guide your way.”

“ Fuck that, I don’t know where Last Boss went and he won’t fucking speak up if he’s just been following me like a sneaky little bitch this entire time, and Aguni was called away for something!”

“ Oh?” Hatter leans back again, Niragi throwing his arms up in the air as he starts pacing and nearly running into stuff again.

“ Yeah! So then that tiny mozzarella cheese ball came and said he’d help because I just look sad and stupid wandering around by myself, which I don’t believe because I know he’d push me into the pool the first chance he got, and then suddenly I’m tied to a bed as he puts on a podcast of nothing but some random guy talking about wool! It was hell!”

“ Oooh, I see. How bad was it?”

“ Fucking terrible! I did not need a wool lecture, thank you very little! Who the fuck wants to know the fastest record to shear a sheep was 39 seconds!? Not me, that’s for fucking sure!” Niragi rants, Hatter nodding and grinning as he switches his juice out for the good wine he kept by his foot the entire time, pouring himself a decent amount and taking a slow sip as Niragi continued to rant onwards. At some point Niragi managed to find the couch again (because he stubbed his toe into it, leading to an extra twenty seconds of Niragi cursing out Hatter’s poor couch) and sat down, Hatter pushing a wine glass into Niragi’s hand and filling it. Niragi downed it like he was a war orphan waiting for his arm to be donated to the war effort, Hatter lightly tsking him for not savouring it properly.

It wasn’t Aguni or any of the girls, but Hatter could appreciate the gossip as Niragi continued without a filter in his mouth, the rant going from Chishiya’s wool podcast to anything else Niragi had heard in his blind boredom. He was impressed how much information Niragi was willing to dole out just to get his anger settled for the rest of the day, and Hatter was happily sipping away as he absorbed it all.

Finally Niragi had calmed down, just nursing the wine glass that Hatter just filled with chocolate cereal instead, as Niragi refused to drink his wine like it was good wine. It was a shame really, Hatter liked hearing about Niragi’s auditory bubble day.

“ Well wasn’t that cathartic!” Hatter chirped as Niragi mumbled around his glass of chocolate cereal, draped over the entire couch as if he wanted to become the couch lord. Or wanting to be painted like the best model in the world, whatever he wanted.

“ Yeah yeah, whatever.” Niragi tips cereal into his mouth just as the crackle of his walkie-talkie alerts him and Hatter. Niragi doesn’t bother to remove the device from his side, too busy eating his cereal as a voice comes through.

And oh boy, what a voice it was, Hatter tuning into it immediately.

“ ….. Testing, testing! Are you hearing me? Hi hi, it’s me, your local menace~ The one with the robe, remember me? Yeah! Hi, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just gonna….. borrow Mr. Beef Stew with extra beef for a few hours! For personal, very important reasons and definitely not because I got a replica statue of a cute dog stuck in a window and now I can’t get it out. Anyways, bye!” The rest becomes static as it disconnects, Niragi snorting a little as Hatter takes one deep breath.

“ Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Niragi, hand it over to me.”

“ You’re not my boss.” “ Yes, but I’m Aguni’s, so hand it over.”

Niragi grumbles, unclipping the walkie-talkie and tossing it in Hatter’s general direction, Hatter humming and pressing the button on the side.

“ Hello? Are you still there, you rascal?” Hatter leans in, pouring as much honey into his voice to lure them out.

“… Yep, still here! Hi, didn’t think you’d be there too Hatter.” “ Oh, I’m here, and I would like to kindly know where you and your little friends are. As a little house visit~” There was a chuckle on the other end. “ Oh, sorry sorry, but I can’t. We can always come over and visit though, even if it’s for a brief moment!” “ Is that so…. Well, you wound me so, you know!” Hatter puts a hand on his chest. “ For you to not even offer me the same respect, ah it hits me right here that you can’t even trust me~”

“ Sorry! Anyways, gotta go, got things to do, got stuff to move with Aguni, who was nice enough to help us.”

“ At your base? Well, what’s stopping me from asking him for directions later for a surprise visit one of these days, maybe have a meet and greet with my beloved stolen items?”

“ Not anywhere near our base, we’re not that dumb my dear red bean paste~ Don’t worry, we’ll return your man in….. 3-5 business days maybe okay byeeeeeeeee-“ The line goes completely dead, and Hatter stares at the black box.

Those cursed beings, they’ve gone too far. Too far.

[muesliforbreakfast]

Shadow Doctrine II - Ghosts walking

Reddit link

Implicitly HWTF, but we're still the good guys. I tried not to beat any readers over the head with the theme of this one but sometimes my writing is a little clunky

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As always I hope you enjoy it!!

---

His hands were bleeding. His hands were still bleeding and he was bone tired. And there was no way he had had enough sleep. He was a ghost walking; eating and shitting and making tungsten rods at a lathe in a numb stupor. He had lost six kilos since he had arrived here a week ago. Six kilos; is that the weight of the will to live? He was bone tired but he had awoken. He had awoken because there was someone in his cell.

Eyes straining against the dark he saw a silhouette. Standing, watching.

“I must be losing my mind.” He mumbled to himself.

“I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm very real.” The silhouette answered, then turned on a very faint light. He was tall and athletic, but Arne couldn't discern much else about him. He was wearing a mottled grey suit that his eyes couldn't exactly focus on; a set of black goggles hung around his neck as he leaned dejectedly, his back against a wall.

“I didn't want to wake you. I don't know how to say what I need to say.”

“Get me out of here. Please, get me out.”

The man looked pained.

“I can't save you; this is a suicide mission.”

“I'll do it.”

“I meant for me. I punched a one way ticket. There's no way out for you either.”

“Bullshit,” Arne quietly barked, “You got here didn't you? Technically this planet is neutral... I KNOW you can get me out of here, and that means you can get me off this rock. Why else would you be here?”

“You know how this works Arne, we do as we're told, and sometimes the orders don't make sense.”

“I'm the last of my regiment. I've lost my home. I've already given everything, but you can get me out of here.” His voice was assertive; he wondered if he had imagined the pitiful whine; if the stranger could sense the desperation behind his words.

“This is a suicide mission Arne; we both know I'm never getting leaving either. And you haven't given everything. That's what we need from you.”

That was the moment that Arne broke. He began to sob quietly, in his thin sheet and ill fitting jumpsuit he had worn that day.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do, for either of us.”

Between wracked breaths Arne managed to speak.

“I don't want to die here! Why did you come here if you weren't going to get me out!”

---

“I'm so sorry” Rodrigo repeated. To himself, or to Arne's gaunt form he wasn't sure. He hadn't suffered like Arne had; he had no right to ask this of him. But he felt his resolve harden. It wasn't either of their fault that he was a slave. Nor was it their fault that Arne was slaving for the lobster war machine. The only thing that mattered was that they break this link in the chain.

“You're the last man in the 19th. Cavalry. Combat corps. You need to bucker up trooper. You're going to die and I can't save you. But you can make sure that you hurt them before you buy the farm. You can make damn well sure these fuckers never forget the 19th Cav.”

“I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die.”

Arne was a gibbering mess. Rodrigo gently grasped his upper arm.

“It was bad wasn't it. When they captured you. I saw their new drone systems myself, they looked for me with what must have been, hundreds?”

“Sir there were so many drones. We couldn't target enough of them, they overwhelmed us and doused us in tear gas. Now we're here, I think I'm the last one left. We're making these rods; I'm pretty sure they're tungsten, god rods. I couldn't figure out how to break the machines or anything, and I know they don't need us. This work is meant to break us completely. They're working us to death. I don't know what to do.”

“Good. That's good information trooper. I'll pass it on. But right now I have a mission for you.”

“Y..Yes sir. If I can, I will.”

“All I need you to do is pick up one of these tungsten rods and beat as many of these fucks to death as you can. That's it soldier. That's all I need.”

Arne just stared at him incredulously. The rods would have been unwieldy if he were at full strength. He couldn't possibly use one as a weapon in his state.

“Listen. I've already sabotaged the lathes. All I need from you is to survive. One day soon instead of spitting out a projectile, they'll make something you can use. Then show these fuckers why you don't fuck with the Ninetheenth. That's all I need.”

“B...but why?”

Rodrigo had not been able to offer him an explanation. He didn't have one for himself. All he had been able to offer was more time in slavery for a quick chance at vengeance, followed shortly by a painful death. And some nutrient bars to keep a semblance of effectiveness, and prolong his suffering before that. In the end Arne's desire to make the lobsters hurt was greater than his desire for his own suffering to end. When the time came, god help anyone who stood in his way.

He slowly stepped out of the hovel and crouched to his hands and his haunches. He looked around, waiting to locate any danger. A lobster guard began to cross the gantry across the parade ground in front of the hovel. The closest he had seen one since he arrived on this planet. They looked identical to lobsters, if lobsters were two feet tall, four feet long and had a pale mottled beige carapace. They had compound eyes on either side of their heads and this one was operating an armature, which made it around seven feet tall. In his Alpha2 infiltration gear, he was nigh on invisible biological eyes even at a short distance. He was completely invisible to their drones. But no one he rescued would be invisible. Even if he could get them out he could not free these slaves.

---

“Do you believe in duty, Mr Pesos?”

Salim leaned casually with the back of his thighs on Pesos' desk, sidearm in his right, clearing knife hanging lazily from his index finger in his left hand.

“How did you get in here?”The galactic multi – trillionaire turned to respond immediately, “Get out or I'll call security.”

“These big heavy hollowpoints move at twelve hundred feet per second. Do you think they'll get here before I punch a fist sized hole in your chest, Mr Pesos?”

All things considered, Pesos was holding his composure remarkably well, but Salim knew it wouldn't last.

“Alright then. Let's talk. How much do you want.”

“We want you to cease providing any of your corporation's intellectual property and logistical services to the Jn'rek Confederacy.”

Pesos gently chuckled to himself.

“You military types are so short sighted,” he said, his hands held wryly in surrender, “You always fail to see the big picture.”

“I fail to see how fighting Terran enemies and killing slavers is short sighted, Mr Pesos.”

“Stall him.” His earpiece buzzed while he spoke.

“Maybe I can enlighten you.”

“Maybe you can.” Salim was losing his patience; he had his orders, but he had no taste for this little charade.

“Do you know your history? Would you like a drink?” The trillionaire walked to his liquor shelf, selected a bottle and poured two glasses, “Think of all the human groups who were at war with each other. And now? Friends. All friends. Why? Because they had a common interest.”

“Despite years, decades, centuries of war, they were all brought together by trade. You can't stop the predictability, the stability of trade and self interest. Because while our enemy fights us, hates us today, tomorrow they will want what we have. Then I'll be waiting. And that's what you military types never figured out.”

“And what, Mr Pesos, is that.”

“That it's cheaper to buy it from us. That's why we need each other. I'm the carrot and you're the stick. As long as I'm there to sell, they can always buy. And they will buy, they won't reave or war with us, as long as you ensure the price they would pay in life is too high. Cigar?”

“Don't you dare light that fucking thing.”

Pesos shrugged and continued, “You see, you need me for peace. Who else will extend the olive branch?”

“Our brothers and sisters have died, are dying. But you get to run with bad company and you get to keep making money.”

“And that's just the price of business, I'm afraid. It's nothing personal, only business.”

“How noble of you.”

He sat in his executive's chair, with a tumbler of whiskey, unlit cigar in the breast pocket of his immaculately cut suit. He gestured at the other tumbler and spoke.

“So let's talk then. How much do you want?” Pesos looked as smug as a human could, framed by his office as he slowly placed his feet on his desk.

Salim glared at him. Pesos waited patiently for a response. After some moments Salim gave him one.

“Tell me, then. How much money is your humanity worth? I know how far I would go to stop someone from harming my comrades; how much do you think their suffering is worth?”

Pesos chuckled again.

“I can see why they picked you, soldier. You certainly cut a menacing figure,” he paused to swirl his tumbler and took a sip, savoured it, and continued, “But your threats aren't going to sway me.”

“We're going to need him alive.” His earpiece buzzed. So he wouldn't get the satisfaction of ending his life; the righteous indignation burning in his gut would have to wait for another day.

“Mr Pesos, let me make this clear,” he said, his voice barely masking the barely controlled rage behind it, “This isn't a negotiation. We will get what we need from your corporation, whether or not you co-operate.”

The multi-trillionaire began to laugh in earnest now. “Do you think that gun means you're in charge here, soldier?” He clicked his fingers, and a fireteam of human mercenaries materialized around the desk, weapons trained on Salim.

Salim smiled wryly. They had been here for some time now, he had seen them enter; their tech wasn't quite cutting edge.

He slowly put his hands up in surrender, weapons still held loosely.

“Gentlemen. Do you all want to be remembered dying to defend a collaborator?” He asked.

“Drop your weapons.”

“How did I get here, gentlemen. Think about that. Think about all the security systems between here and the outside. You know I walked through that door. But ask yourselves, how did I get to the door.” He swallowed nervously, “Do you want to be remembered as dying, for a fucking quisling?”

The mercenaries exchanged glances. One turned to cover the door, two covered the windows. The last kept his rifle trained on Salim.

“If I had the choice, I would rather not be remembered at all.” His statement hung in the air for a long tense moment. They slowly lowered their weapons and quietly filed out the front door of the luxurious office.

Salim gently pulled his mask off and stared Pesos down. He had finally lost his composure; he was frozen in fear and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to reach over and beat the desk with Pesos' skull. Finally he spoke.

“You're coming with us. And then you're going to have a really bad day.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Dawn (2)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: sleep is nice. Water is super nice. music is dope nice. weather is siren-like nice. not being able to meet my dogs? not nice.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Is it really necessary to do this? All of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous.

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session. 

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!

Well, TOO LATE! you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

You didn't have to defend him like that.

You try to shove your inner voice away.

What do you even know about him?

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

What is Odin going to do to you now?

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

Perfect.

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

Oh, screw it.

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

Good for her , he wonders, taking his armour off, there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied.

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

Why did she defend me in front of Odin?

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues.

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

.

Why does he have so many greens and blacks?

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. Wait, is he colourblind?

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

Fuck!

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. What is he thinking? That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. Wasn't he supposed to be...frail? At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

You won a lottery, woman , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather? Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. You IDIOT!!

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

MOTHERF-

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"

[officialleehadan]

Eyes of the Ocean

Anita watched Evan swim away, she walked over to quietly lean on the railing next to Eione. The young woman was regarding the water with a wistful expression on her pretty face. “He doesn’t need that snorkel anymore, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Eione murmured, the glint of her eyes just shy of being human if you knew what to look for, and the slightest glitter of scales on her skin when she trailed her fingers in the water longingly. “The kiss takes a few days to wear off, but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t find him fast enough to save him without it.”

She shifted from one foot to another like the deck was hot under her bare feet, but Anita knew better. Eione was itching to get into the water and she didn’t have time before Evan got back.

“He probably won’t even notice unless he almost drowns again in the next week. He’s a professional. I hope his luck isn’t actually that bad,” Anita teased her, as she always did when Eione had to kiss someone to get them out of a bad situation. “But hey, the kiss of a mermaid, there are worse ways to not die.”

“It’s not really supposed to be for saving people,” Eione stammered. She was a little shy, and her few relationships had all been with people who already knew what she was. “I—I just found him, I wasn’t even sure if he was alive, but his eyes were open a little and…”

“Sweetie, I don't think he would be mad that you used your superpowers to save his life.” Anita cut her off with a grin. “Besides, he’s cute and he likes you. You should say yes if he asks you out.”

Eione turned crimson to the collarbones and stammered something that was probably denial, but Anita wasn’t born yesterday, and she had been around for most of Eione’s romances, both male and female.

“You know, we haven’t had a cave death in a long time, thanks to you,” she added more gently and squeezed Eione’s shoulders. “Those sea caves kill people, but you’ve managed to find them so far, and even managed to avoid being seen while you were at it. Not easy.”

“Knowing the caves helps,” Eione admitted wryly. “And not needing to worry about carrying tanks the way you humans do, that helps too. There are places that are far too narrow for anyone wearing diving equipment.”

Anita chuckled wryly and let her go before she turned back to the steering console and the chest of drinks that sat next to it.

“You’re too modest. Want a juice?” she offered when she turned to dig in the cooler. She tossed Eione a can when she got a nod from her young friend. “I know you want to get in the water. I would ask you to go get me a lobster for dinner, but there’s not time before he gets back into eyeshot.”

“Give me a ride back to my place tonight and I’ll send you home with a good shellfish dinner,” Eione offered, settling on one of the benches with her juice in hand. “It’s on your way, and I have this morning’s catch in a net at home.”

Anita nodded agreeably. “You bring the seafood and I’ll make chowder for us both. I know that cave of yours is a little lacking in the cooking utensils department. You can spend the night at my place.”

The mermaid leaned over to dip her fingers in the water once more, admiring the ripples that trailed behind her small movements.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll just ride home with you and hunt there. My catch at home will keep. It’s still alive,” Eione murmured.  She nodded at the water. “Look, there he is. His gear should still be just inside the cave. I left it visible from the top, but he won't go down that far today. I made it look like it got hung up and the straps tore.”

Anita smiled. “That’s my girl,” she said, pleased. “It’s tough to keep the facts hidden, especially from someone who actually knows how those caves work.”

“He knows that something impossible happened,” Eione agreed softly. “And he’s right. He was dying of. I got to him just as he lost consciousness. He was still breathing, but only just. It made him receptive to the song.”

She shook her head ruefully and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I suppose it’s a good thing he was mostly out already. He isn’t superstitious and he’s a good diver to get so far into the caves, even trapped like he was. I could have been in trouble if he got a clear look at me.”

Anita cocked her head. “That’s true enough. Which song did you use?”

The mermaids had a couple of different songs they could use. Mostly the local mermaids used them to communicate under water over long distances. There were others, too, with different effects on the listener.

“I used one to make him sleep,” Eione explained with another sigh that wasn’t quite human as it caught the breeze. Anita was long used to Eione’s little mermaid noises and ignored it. “He was nearly unconscious already and I needed him to stay that way until he was on land again. Bashing him over the head with a rock seemed like less a good idea.”

That made Anita burst out laughing.

“No, we don't survive that so good,” she grinned as she rummaged in her cooler again. “Getting hungry? I have sandwiches and chips, even a couple beers from the last time I saw Jakob.”

The mermaid made a face. “You keep your horrible fermented barley juice away from me.”

It was a long-standing joke between them. Eione had hated beer from her first taste and didn’t plan to ever have a second. Anita laughed and passed over a ham sandwich instead.

“If I know you, you haven’t eaten since this morning,” she said with long-held exasperation. It was hard to bring up a young mermaid when you weren’t one yourself. “You don’t eat enough to keep that body going with the work you do.”

Eione smiled. “Thank you for the sandwich,” she said. “And I did actually eat this morning.”

Anita cracked a smile as Eione took the sandwich and dug into it. "Not enough, I bet," she griped. “Did you at least eat before you went hunting?”

"While I was out,” the mermaid admitted. “I need to make a groceries run. I'm low on everything.”

The older woman sighed. “Don’t stock up. It won’t be long before you come to stay with me for storm season. I'll take you out or have Thomas do it. You know he loves talking to you.”

Thomas was another of the local fishermen. His grandson was dating Eione’s older cousin. Until he had spotted Eione, Thomas had had no idea that there was more than one mermaid near Andros Island.

“I may not even bother to go shopping,” Eione murmured thoughtfully. “If I come to stay in a day or two, I can hunt and buy my food at the market. It would save me the time.”

“There’s that also,” Anita agreed. “And Thomas is really getting too old to go out and play with the Shoal. I know a few of your outliers still don’t really understand how fragile old humans can be.”

“True,” Eione admitted. “They've been getting so edgy lately; the summer storms will be rolling in soon. It makes us all jittery. Most of them are getting ready to leave for calmer weather.”

Anita shrugged. “Whenever you feel like moving in for storm season, your room is ready.” She assured her friend. “Just make sure to check your suitcase. I don’t want to find any dead snails in it this time.”

Eione giggled. “I’ll come in a day or two,” she promised. “And no more dead snails. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Leave your suitcase with me this year. I can always drive it down to you when you need it next.”

The mermaid opened her mouth to agree, but closed it again when Evan hauled himself out of the water and into the boat. He grabbed for his towel and kicked off his flippers with the ease of long practice before speaking.

“I think it’s down there,” he said triumphantly. “I could see something that looked a lot like my rebreather at the bottom, hanging out of the cave.”

Anita grinned and handed him a towel. “Best news all day. Gonna rent some scuba gear, or do you have a set already?”

“Nah, I’ve got mine,” he told her, pulling off his gear and quickly rinsing it in fresh water from the bottle he had brought. “I have it back at the house. This is my backup mask; I hope I can find my old one. I liked it better. I still can’t figure out how it came off.”

“I’ve seen a mask get pulled off by the waves.”

Eione pulled a juice out of the cooler and offered it to Evan, beaming softly when he gave her a grateful smile. He popped it open and gulped half of it down before he set it aside. From beside his feet he pulled out the jug of water he brought and rinsed off his gear, ever the professional.

“Couldn’t have happened to me,” he told Anita, voice muffled as he dried his hair roughly with his towel. “If I was still breathing, and I had to be or I would already be dead, losing my mask should have killed me. I would have breathed water without it and my mouthpiece, and that’s gone too. That’s probably still attached to my rebreather. It’s not easy to detach.”

Evan slung the towel over his shoulder. His navy swimsuit was drying quickly under the hot sun, and he picked up his juice again. He drank it a little more slowly now that he had gotten the taste of salt out of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I just don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy. I know what couldn’t have happened, but I don’t know what did. Every scenario I come up with couldn’t possibly be right.”

“Well, something happened,” Anita said blithely, turning the ignition on her boat and getting them moving. Evan was right, of course.  It had taken Eione almost three hours to find him. Without her magic, he would have died and his body would have become part of the exhibit he dove for in the first place.

Anita stifled a knowing glance at Eione. Evan was a good man, but she was glad that the truth was so unbelievable. If he ever figured it out, the mermaids could be in a lot of trouble.

+++

HGE - Riptide

Evan Ross survived what no one before him ever has, and now he’s on the hunt for answers. His only clue is a single word that echoed through the water of a flooded cave.

Breathe.

Under Stone

White Sand Sky

The Hint of Answers

Drift to Home

Boats and Salt Wind

+++

More Stories!

+++

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXVII: Cold Comfort For Change

Crowds of people seated, sucking in each other’s oxygen with their open, smiling faces. Plates full of lobster and mashed potatoes and what was that? Spinach? It was something green. Could’ve been seaweed or...whatever other plant was green. I didn’t think about the color green often. Maybe like once or twice, and only when I saw something green. That was all.

Through the air was a nauseating aroma of boiled vegetables and a vague hint of starch. Carbohydrates? I wasn’t sure. Whatever potatoes smelled like when they were heated. If not for the aroma, loathe as I was to breathe it in, I wouldn’t have been able to tell there was any sense of heat at all. At least the food was warm. Maybe the people, too. It did look like a sunny day, and by sunny, I meant that the sun was out.

Decorations of little stone angel statues were lined on shelves and windowsills. Glasses, a counter with a dedicated bartender (some guy in a fancy three-piece suit with a monopoly man mustache). Stairs which led...where? Beats me. Upstairs, probably. If not for the food stench which drowned out all other smells, I might not have picked up on the sleek scent of refined mahogany which made up the hardwood floors, counters, stairs...ah, hell, everything.

What was I doing? Waiting for my seat. I had a reservation and I figured maybe if I arrived a little early, I could get to my seat faster. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

I tapped my foot. It didn’t make anything go faster and the crowds, the chatter, everything worked in tandem to see how far I could stand being in such a place. Rich folks and people on dates who probably pretended to be rich in order to impress the other person. All I wanted was a good meal, something I didn’t have to make, and look at the mess I got myself into: at any point, any one of them could look over to me and they would raise an eyebrow, tilt their head, point, stare in confusion.

It would have made sense, too. I mean, who on a near-summer day would wear a thick, red jacket and have their arms folded as they shivered in place and wished they could find a place of warmth at last, some kind of warmth that would never come? Plenty of people, maybe, I mean, maybe the air conditioner was really working on overdrive. It’s not like I checked the temperature outside before I stepped foot in such a posh hellhole.

All these people smiling and laughing and making face noises. It’s just like how people on the Titanic must’ve been like. Am I the iceberg?

“Dee Flecked?” Called the server. Or receptionist. I didn’t know these restaurant job titles. It wasn’t my job to know. The...whatever was another “some fancy guy”, just like the bartenders. His features were...a face and clothes. That was all I was going to warrant.

Yes. ‘Dee Flecked’. I have to be careful. I’m veering awful close to my original name. At least I don’ t know anyone with a ‘D’ in their name. Nope. None at all.

“Me…” I raised my hand with a feeble motion.

“Right this way, madame,” he motioned.

Finally someone with manners.

He ushered me to my seat, which was a solitary table in the middle of the dining hall. Which meant I was ambushed by all these people who probably didn’t feel so much as a hint of a draft. I guess I should’ve been grateful as at least in the summer time, it was manageable.

“Uh...can I...have a different seat?” I looked up and asked the guy in expensive clothing who was probably paid too little to be way too polite (which meant he probably couldn’t even have afforded his clothing. Was that a plothole, but in real life?).

“I’m sorry, madame, but there are no other seats available,” he broke the news in such a way that it was like he was telling me my great grandmother who I never knew and so had no attachment to had just passed away.

“Oh...that’s...yeah, that tends to happen in a place like this...ha…” I tried not to express my disappointment too hard and I hoped my weak and shaky voice didn’t give me away. To aid in my endeavor, I waved about a hundred dollar bill.

“Here’s a per-emptive tip,” I looked down at the table and muttered.

“Thank you,” he took it, “I’ll get you the finest water we have.”

I let out a foggy sigh of relief. I had done it.

Now, as for what I was doing there, or what I was doing anywhere at all, I couldn’t really say. I’ll be honest – I wasn’t expecting to still be around after all that time. Many months went by (but less than a year) since I parted ways from that glacial diner. For the first several whiles of my time alone, I didn’t really had any particular goal or objective. I slept in alleyways and rooftops alike, anywhere where I thought I wouldn’t be bothered and wouldn’t have to pay rent. Food was difficult to come by, but shoplifting from grocery stores was easy. Also there were food banks, but I didn’t want to rob a food bank.

To think I was living at all, though. It wasn’t really in the plans, but as I said, I had no plans. Life just had a way of going on. Didn’t know how to feel about that one, but it was a little out of my control, so I let it go (conceal, don’t feel) for the most part. Make no mistake, it was unbearable, and at times I did hit something of a rock bottom. I remember being in Italy, concealed by any shadows I could occupy, and would beg others for just a sip of wine. Eventually, though, I had enough, so being individualistic in nature, I did something about my situation and worked hard to earn a fair bit of money.

...In other words, I robbed a rich person’s house in the dead of night while they were on vacation and took off with over a million dollars.

“Ray would’ve been so proud,” I remarked.

Not that I care. It’s not like I miss him. I don’t miss any of those people.

I made my peace with that part of my life and I was sure the feeling was mutual for everyone else as well.

“I’m so glad Remora’s finally gone! Everything’s much easier now!” Was what I was sure they must’ve said. ‘They’ being any one of them, including Tigershark.

Heh. ‘Remora’. What a silly name that was. To think it was all because I saw some dopey fish one day.

Yeah, I thought of the kid from time to time. Thought stuff like, “crap I just left and didn’t even say anything to her.” But then I was reminded of the fact that she had Ray and Sunny anyway, and they were much more equipped to take care of a kid. Plus, as far as I could tell, they were caring people. Not some frost-bitten oaf like me. After being reminded of that, I would always be relieved.

So yeah. No complaints from me. I had my own life now, and I didn’t know what kind of life that was, but my organs still functioned (possibly? Haven’t checked in a while).

Two or more minutes passed and the server handed me a glass of water in a wine glass.

Gee, it really is fancy.

“Thank you,” I handed the server another hundred.

“Have you had time to look at the menu?” He asked.

Fuck. There was a menu? All this time...see, this is what thinking does to you.

“Ice...cream?” I blurted out.

“You want ice cream?”

Why did I say ice cream? Well now it’s out there, so I have no choice but to double down, otherwise I come off as awkward.

“Yes. Get me some of your finest ice cream. Please,” I begged, then gestured and handed another bit of currency to the server.

“Very well. What flavor, madame?”

“Fish…” No. That would be awful. Shut your mouth now.

“Fish?”

“No. I said ‘fresh’. As in, fresh strawberries, please.”

“Very well. I will have a waiter bring you our finest of sherbets.”

“Who?”

“Who will the waiter be?”

“No. Who is ‘Sure Bert’?”

Rather than answer my question, he laughed, then walked away.

How rude. And to think I gave him a tip. Oh well, I have to remember how hard of a life food service workers have. He probably doesn’t get much tips from other people. He probably sleeps on broken glass. Rich people tend to be stingy, after all, which is why I should have their money instead.

When the waiter arrived, he set down a large bowl filled with several mounds of light-reddish colored ice cream and piles of strawberries on top.

“Here you are, madame,” the waiter took a bow as he gestured to the food before me.

“Th...thank you,” I shivered. It was as if I was also one of those ice balls.

“Are you cold, miss?” He asked, his soft politeness almost deceiving me into believing he had any concern.

“Mm...a little…”

“Would you like to eat outside?” He offered.

What the fuck? That server guy said there was no other seating available. That bastard.

“Uh...no...that wouldn’t fix anything. Thank you, though,” I appreciated the offer, really, even if I knew how futile it would have been. For the effort, I handed him a couple of hundred dollar bills. Also, for the record, his attire was so fancy that it reminded me of that one ogre in Shrek. Couldn’t quite remember that ogre’s name, but he wore a fancy outfit, that much I knew. Also, the waiter had hair, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention.

After he took the money, his tune changed.

“Oh...oh my. Uh...can I massage your back? Bring you cushions for your seat? More food, perhaps?” He seemed desperate and predatory.

“What’s your problem? I just want to eat my ice cream, creep,” I side-eyed the guy who I thought was decent up until that moment.

“Sorry. By all means,” he skittered away, obvious damage control.

I shook my head. Here I thought I would enjoy myself at such a stuffy establishment, but no, it was not meant to be. How tragic.

I left that place, and I wasn’t even sure if I paid for my meal. All in all, I was rather disappointed, especially since I didn’t even want ice cream. I would’ve been just fine with something like shrimp fettuccine alfredo, or a massive super rare steak along with a valley of grapes. But noooo...lousy service gave me ice cream instead.

That was fine. It was good ice cream, for what it was worth, and even though it wasn’t filling, it did bring me a false sense of warmth which I couldn’t have gotten from whatever other food I would’ve wanted instead.

Out on the streets, I took my stride back toward the apartment I’ve occupied for about four or five months now. My days never really consisted of much, so as far as I was concerned, my day was pretty much done. Yet the sun had yet to set and there was little guarantee that I would see any sleep. Such was the gamble I was willing to take. It wasn’t like the apartment was a home, and it wasn’t like the quiet I had found was peace, but inaction in a confined setting was close enough to both of those things for the time being.

So when I opened the door and was about to make my way up the stairs, I was stopped by the landlord, a vile woman who always seemed to wear Hawaiian shirts and had dark sunglasses. Even at night.

“Lenora!” Shouted Abalone, the vile landlord in question, and an extraordinary cause of problems. Many times I’ve heard her cursing up a storm and pounding on doors, demanding her toll like she was on a bridge and not in an apartment complex. Coupled with those demands were the threat of eviction, which I would then wait until she was done with her tirade, walk up to the doors of the people she made miserable, and slipped rent money underneath their door. All so I could get some peace and quiet in my own apartment.

“How many times have I told you to call me Len? Len Arietty!” I reminded her. Two of us could shout, even though I really didn’t like to raise my voice. It was such a chore to do.

(But yes, I went by Lenora, because it seemed much more name-like of a name than Remora, which was not a very name-name)

“Hmph. I’ll call you the name you put on your lease and nothing more,” she stuck her nose up, that self-righteous attitude which was unwarranted.

Nobody appreciates a good pun these days. That’s the problem with modern society.

“And I won’t call you at all. Because I don’t have a phone,” I pointed out. I had a phone, but it was back at a certain diner which wouldn’t be named (I was pretty sure it didn’t have a name, anyway).

“You should get one. What if you’re late on a payment and need an extension?” She hung over my head, but being that I just ate, I didn’t take the bait.

I could buy out the apartment complex, myself, if I wanted to, and I would do it just to put you out of a job.

“Have I ever been late on a payment, Abalone?” I asked in turn, doing my best to make a little baby voice, along with it.

“One day, Lenora. One day,” she warned. What she was trying to warn, however, wasn’t clear.

“One day what? Which day? Tuesday? Just any old day?” I asked, genuine in my confusion.

“Just one day,” she growled.

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me which day it will be,” I was exhausted enough as it was, I wasn’t about to play any guessing games, “uh, one day to you, too, and take care?”

I trudged up the stairs. There was nothing more to speak about and if I wanted to be confused, I’d just go seek out any other social interaction.

After a sluggish march, I stood at the door to Apartment 108. The most basic of numbers. Totally inconspicuous. My hands shook and felt frostbitten as I struggled to place the key in its respective hole. It was a delicate process, one with many fumbles, and at one point I dropped the key. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments, but I didn’t care for such things as ‘pride’ and any grandiose reactions were just a waste of breath.

Inside of the apartment was a sparse collection of what was necessary and nothing more: a small kitchen with a refrigerator, toaster, and microwave oven. None of those things went used, as I preferred to eat out (in spite of the presence of other people), but at times I would press the lever for the toaster down, just so I could try to feel the warm currents against my hands. When that didn’t happen, I would feel compelled to stick my hand in, but so far, I’ve resisted.

Aside from those things, there was a closet with a box of clothing. Shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap. None of those things were very impressive and showers always felt awkward. It was just standing there and letting water fall on me, worse, no matter how much I turned the dial, it remained cold. Then when I stepped out of the shower, and steam came out, but I continued to be a shivering mess, I just felt like a fool.

When I slept, if I slept, I would lay on my back in the middle of the floor, wrapped up in a snuggie (yes, that very same snuggie gifted to me from Cybele, some random woman who lived in an airport. While I didn’t really know her, so I couldn’t even hope to care about her, I refused to allow myself to forget such a kind gesture. Besides, snuggies are...snug) and a space heater next to me to keep me company. Even if the space heater did nothing, it was the gesture, what it represented...or maybe I was just desperate. Like, maybe one day, I would actually feel what I was meant to.

Most of the time I laid on the floor, regardless of sleep. It was just what I did. Dwell on things, like life, what I’ve been through, events that had transpired, and who I was. None of it ever did me anything good and any questions I had on life never went answered. It sucked not even having a phone, as there were probably hundreds of thousands of memes that I was missing out on. Things I would never understand without the context, and even then, sometimes things were better without the context. Small price to pay to live in the isolation I so desired, I suppose.

But let’s not dwell on that. Let’s not dwell on my dwelling. If rest may come, then let it come. That was enough.

By now, there must have been an apparent contradiction: if I wanted to isolate myself, why live in a populated area? In fact, I was probably better isolated in the arctic, but that place was so. Damn. Cold.

Well, the answer was a strange one, and it was both an advantage and disadvantage: with all the crowds of people in a city, most people didn’t care who you were. Paid you no mind. Then again, when there were crowds, there was always the possibility that they would pay you mind. In fact, that meant even more people with their watchful eyes who would want nothing more than to react to your every move and mistake. Any quirk or sudden motion that didn’t fit with the norm and those faceless entities were sure to pounce.

But the same thing could happen in a less populated area, and in fact, in a place less popular, you would know for a fact that people were talking about you. That was terrible and bad and uncool. Would not recommend.

Of course, I had a solution, and it was to just not care. When that solution failed, which 9.9 times out of 10, did, I wandered into the town square where there was a fountain and park benches scattered around and took a seat. For whatever reason, few people ever occupied the town square, and especially not in the morning. Someone more inquisitive might have wondered why that was, but I wasn’t about to question a good thing.

Down on the ground was a crow that hopped about. Rather than pigeons, the city seemed to be more dominated by crows. Wasn’t complaining, birds were birds. Could’ve been a cockatrice and I wouldn’t have anything to say on the matter. Of course, I stared down at the crow and their little hops. My palm was against the side of my face and I leaned forward.

“Look at you: are you dancing for others or just to dance? Or is that just how you walk?” I asked the little bird. Then, out of boredom, I dug into my jacket pocket and tossed some bird seeds the crow’s way.

“Make no mistake: I’m not rewarding you for your dance. I’m just bored,” I informed the crow, not that the crow cared. In the crow’s eyes, a free snack was a free snack.

As of late, it’s become a routine of mine to toss stuff at crows. It started one day (probably not the day that landlord was referring to) situated at the town square where I thought of nothing in particular and I had a sandwich in my hand. Some pieces of the sandwich and when a crow started eating the fallen piece, I got a little annoyed.

“Get your own sandwich, crow,” I remember scolding the black bird. My words didn’t seem to deter the crow at all (what could I say? I wasn’t a very threatening person) and I didn’t really care to scold the crow any further. It was just a sandwich, after all. But after that day, I took it upon myself to buy some bird seeds at the local bird seed store.

“Just so you know, just because I’m doing this nice thing, I don’t care about you,” I told the crow, then tossed another handful of birdseed. That crow just pecked away.

“See? That’s what I like about you: you don’t care either. I could call you a dummy stupid butt bird and you wouldn’t have anything to say, would you? I could call you a big stinky hairy butt bird.”

Yep. Nothing to say. The crow looked up at me for a brief second. I gave a small wave, and then they went right back to eating.

“Why can’t more people be like you, crow? We have a mutual apathy for each other and we still get along just fine…” I think I was starting to think things I didn’t want to think about.

Just as I was about to seed the crow further, that little opportunist looked away, then flew off.

Looks like we got a dine and dasher.

“Heh, were you offended by what I said after all?” I wondered aloud. If anyone saw me they must have wondered, “what was that crazy lady doing in that thick jacket, shivering and talking to a crow?” But what were they doing watching me for? If anything, they were the crazy ones for watching.

Maybe the bench would be a nice place for a nap, if I could find any tiredness at all. I tapped my foot and pondered my options.

“What to do...what to do…”

Before I could figure that out, the crow returned (or at least, a crow returned. Could’ve been any old crow).

That crow landed next to my feet and set down something on the ground. I spread my legs and peered down to find a silver coin.

“What...what the...no. No, no, no. That’s not part of the deal. You’re not supposed to give me money, look,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out several hundred dollar bills, “I’ve got plenty of that. I’m just doing this out of boredom.”

Instead of doing the sensible thing and taking off with the quarter after realizing their mistake, the stubborn crow pushed the quarter closer to me with their beak.

“Dude, you’re being real pushy. Don’t you know that’s a real turn off?”

Again, the crow remained persistent, and having had enough, I got up and shooed the crow away.

“Go on, begone with ye!” I waved my hands away, and the crow at last took off, although I noticed that the quarter was still next to me. What a hassle.

“Would it be bad if I didn’t take this? I mean, what if that crow was actually a fairy in disguise and if I don’t take their payment, they’ll curse me?” I pondered. There was no real need to ponder, as I knew that fairies weren’t real (although there were creatures from outside of earth that were fairy-like) and it wasn’t like my life wasn’t already cursed from the day I was born. But still, if fairies were real…

OK. I took the quarter. Better safe than sorry.

My next plan of attack was...my growling stomach. Well, that was unexpected, but who would I be to not quell the beast?

Whenever I felt that beast (my stomach) roar, I did what any sensible person would do and I went and got coffee. Back in my diner days, I never really gave coffee much thought despite it being a signature drink at such places. Yes, I was aware of its existence, but I never really saw value in it. Now, having lived a new life filled with self-discovery and wonder, I learned the truth: coffee was like a drink and a meal all in one. Well, it helped to also get a meal along with the coffee. Maybe I’d consider that.

I looked around and as luck would have it, there was a coffee shop situated just behind where I had sat, obscured by tables with umbrellas and kiosks (one selling deep-fried portabella mushrooms, the other selling horseshoe crab enthusiast magazines with little horseshoe crab plushies hanging off the ceiling of the kiosk). Drip Drip Drop Coffee was the name of the place, and with a name like that, it was almost certain that the coffee was top quality.

“I know a place…” I mouthed the words, then stepped forward and into Drip Drip Drop. An ominous feeling followed me along as I entered. There were indeed far too many people. There were at least five people inside, and worse yet, some were conversing with each other. Not seated were three people in line who I had to stand behind. As much stomach continued to growl, I looked up at the menu.

Oh, thank goodness, they have sandwiches. Sub sandwiches, to boot. I think I’ll order a cold cut. Every kind of meat on it. Double stacked. You know, now that I think about it, why are they called ‘sub’ sandwiches? I get it’s short for submarine, but it doesn’t even look like a submarine. It looks like a sandwich. Makes me think that whoever named it didn’t even know what a submarine looked like. That, or didn’t know what a sandwich looked like, and just thought everything else that wasn’t a submarine was just like a submarine, but not. Maybe it’s called that cause some bored person in a submarine had enough materials to make a sandwich, and they just happened to be in a submarine when they made it. On that note, I’m willing to bet that if you drop a sub sandwiches in the ocean, it will, indeed, get soggy.

“Monster energy iced cappuccino with quadruple shot espresso for ‘Boruto’!” One of the baristas shouted. I found that to be an odd name, but a little curious, I looked around and saw some average height scrawny woman in a camouflage print hoodie as well as camo pants whose brown ponytail poked out from her backwards cap.

“Heh. Heh heh heh. They probably think my name really is Boruto. Suckers,” sneered the gremlin-like stranger.

I shook my head. Didn’t people have better things to do than give poor baristas a fake name? They were already underpaid and overworked as it was, no need to humiliate them further.

“Hello? Are you going to order?” Asked a faint and soft, but cheery voice. I looked around, then heard a tap against the counter. That was when I realized that there was no longer a line in front of me and I was supposed to be the next to order.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” I stepped forward. Behind the counter was a young woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties and had wavy, pink hair along with three piercings along both ears. On each cheek were three freckles.

“That’s fine! There’s no one behind you!” She informed me in a sing-song like voice. Indeed, there was no one behind me, much to my relief. But something told me that I would have noticed had there been someone behind me.

“Oh, huh. You’re cute,” I remarked, and realizing that had been spoken aloud, I continued as if nothing was said, “I’ll get a…” I shivered much more than I meant to and it felt more like a jolt.

“Air conditioner?” She asked.

I gave a feeble nod.

“Yeah, it’s always out of wack. I get it’s a warm day and all, but seriously, does it have to feel like we’re in the freakin’ arctic?”

Finally someone who gets it. Or at least I don’t have to make up a big excuse.

“Yeah...Okay. I think I’m ready. I’ll get a mocha and a c...co…” the shivering continued.

“Take your time.”

I really don’t want to. I want to be in, then out.

“Cold cut sandwich,” I sped through the words.

“Great! And how do you want your coffee?”

“Cold...too…” I answered through grit teeth.

“Mm...mm...I get it. Yeah. Hot day, cold coffee. Makes sense. Yeah.”

That had nothing to do with it. Maybe it didn’t make sense for me to get it, what with the whole idea of wanting to feel warmth, but the thing was, when I drank hot coffee, it just tasted like cold anyway. So if I got cold coffee, at least I could taste it. Besides, it’ s not like the temperature of the coffee really changes the body’s temperature. It’s not like people dump cold coffee on their head on a hot day, or hot coffee on their head on a cold day. That’ s not how it worked.

I fished out the handful of hundred dollar bills and set them on the counter.

“Uh, keep the change? Bye.” “Wait,” she called out before I could get very far, “Can I get a name for the order?”

Crap. Name. Think, think…

“Karen,” that was a rather unassuming name with no connotations attached whatsoever, unlike something like Rhea. “Karen Alotte.”

“What kind of name is that?!” Shouted the annoying ponytail gremlin, “At least Boruto is an actual name! Fictional, mind you, but still real!”

I lowered my head. Customers really were the worst.

“Don’t let it get to you,” the barista told me. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a name that’s not Boruto.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?” I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Well, I wouldn’t have to deal with any annoying customers and their pointless comments much longer. About five minutes later, my name was called and I headed out the door without a second thought, back to where I was situated in the town square. While I didn’t know the time, I assumed it was about noonish, give or take some minutes.

Now there were two crows when once was one. It must have been a good omen, all because I took that quarter.

“Hey guys. Look what I got,” I pointed to my sandwich. Those crows didn’t so much as look up.

“Well, that’s fine, too. I’m not offering you any.”

One iced coffee later, and halfway through my sandwich, I heard a distinct voice yell out from behind me.

“YOU’RE CUTE TOO!” Their voice rang through the air and I turned around and saw a girl with pink hair who stood before me, one foot in front of the other, and cupped her mouth with her hands.

I turned back to the crows.

“Get a load of this girl,” I pointed my thumb behind me and told them, “I feel bad for whoever she’s calling to.”

Seeing as no one else had it in their hearts to break the news to her, I took it upon myself. After all, I was cold enough to not hold back.

“Hey, girl! You’re embarassing yourself!” I shouted back to her. “Everyone around can hear you!”

She looked over at me and stood up straight, then blinked.

“Oh. Sorry,” she replied, then walked over. “I was trying to get your attention, actually.”

I pointed to myself.

“Me? Cute? Why?” I was most confused. I didn’t recall ever being called ‘cute’ before.

“Does it have to be said?” She gave a smile that looked like she was about to burst into laughter. “Your puffy jacket, your short black hair, your nervousness,” she began to list.

“The nervousness isn’t cute...I’m just generally uncomfortable,” I corrected.

“Okay, well, still! You said I’m cute, and I think you’re cute too! Just accept it!”

I looked away and blushed. So that’s what it was all about, huh? I just had to say that out loud and now I was reaping the consequences?

“So it was you,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird, right? It’s just that I’ve always been told that by creepy dudes and not someone as attractive as yourself,” she remarked.

“I’m not at...at...I’m repellent,” I concluded, and put my hands on my hips all proud.

“Oh, sure. Tell yourself that,” she slouched over and groaned, then perked right back up. “Hey! Can I sit next to you?”

I looked around.

“It is possible,” I informed her. I didn’t know why she would want to, seeing as there were plenty of other places to sit elsewhere, but unless she had a condition that made it hard for her to sit down, then I didn’t see why that would be a problem.

She sat down and I felt a wave of discomfort come over me.

It was so much easier to eat a sandwich when I didn’t have someone sitting next to me.

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” I asked.

“It’s my lunch break! I’m usually not very hungry on my lunch breaks, so I usually wait to eat until I’m off work. Because of that, I usually have a lot of free time, and since I’m a very social person, I tend to have conversations with random people.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. What if you end up talking to someone dangerous?” I suggested.

“Hmm...that’s a good point. Are you dangerous?”

“Not at the moment, no,” I replied without thought.

“Then I think it’s fine to talk to you, no?”

I shrugged.

“Do what you want.”

She beamed a bright grin, but it took about a solid minute before she had anything more to say and instead she just kicked her legs back and forth against the bench. It was a little creepy.

“So, Karen, was it?” She leaned her head forward and asked.

“That was a name I used, yes.”

“Oh? That’s not your name?”

Damn it. I shouldn’t have phrased it that way.

“I’m...still trying to figure out a name,” I admitted.

“What do you mean?”

I let out a heavy sigh. If there was something I cared about...then that one thing was something I didn’t want to care about. But I had to be delicate in my apathy.

“Well, it’s like...I was going by a different name for a little while and before that, I had a different name, my original name. I also had many other names, but that original name, that was who I considered myself to be. You follow?”

She nodded.

“I think so. Go on?”

Why? Oh, well. If I’m committed to not caring, then I have to treat this with a carefree attitude.

“Thing is, that name didn’t really make me uncomfortable in of itself. I once went to a meeting just for the hell of it and decided to talk about the name issue with them, too, and they thought I was referring to a ‘deadname’, which I didn’t know what that was, so someone explained it and mad respect to trans people, but that’s not quite what I mean.”

“All right. So what do you mean?”

“Well, I guess you can think of it like a deadname. Because it’s like, imagine there was another me, like, hypothetically, and it’s like that other me died. That other me, who shared that name, no longer exists, and can’t exist, but they still follow me. Not physically, but it’s like I’d get compared to how she was, the good and the bad. Worse, I compared myself to that other me. I felt inferior at times, other times I desired to be superior. It was like I was living in a shadow of myself and I didn’t know any other way to escape from it but to change my name. Thing is, though, all the names I’ve come up with just haven’t feel right, either.”

“So, you’ve been trying to escape from yourself?” She asked, now less inquisitive and more sounding confused.

“Yeah, funny enough, I think I have been, and I don’t know what it is: whether or not I can fundamentally change or whether or not I want to. I mean, I’m comfortable enough, as uncomfortable as my existence is, but I also didn’t want to associate with that other me. Hypothetically, I mean.”

“Right. It’s easy to say ‘don’t compare yourself to others’ but I suppose it’s harder when you have this idealized version of yourself that you compare to? I know I get thoughts like, ‘I should be better than this. I know I can be smarter, so why do I have this job?’ Which can then spiral down and...yeah…”

I wasn’t really sure what she was referring to. She had me in the first half, not gonna lie, but then it just fell apart in the second half.

“You sound like you need therapy,” I pointed out, “but anyway, I think what it comes down to is, there’s over a million people with that name, or at least five. Sure, she was one version of me, but does that mean that two people can’t have the same name? I don’t think so. Maybe I’m not exactly like her, but she lived her life and I’m living mine. So I think I’m ready now,” I concluded, then looked over to her and tried my best to give a smile. It was only slight. But progress was progress.

“One talk and you’re ready?” She looked surprised.

My heart took a huge leap. It was probably the coffee, but it could have also been because of what I was about to say.

“Yeah. I’m Rhea Flection.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Miss Flection. My name’s Ceres. Ceres Lee.”

Aww...everything was going so well, too…

I got up.

“Nope. Nope. Not doing this again. I’m out,” I took a few steps away.

“What?!”

Oh, come on, me. If you can get past one name, you can get past another.

I sucked in my pride, which in this case, was just my breath, and I walked right back and sat right back down.

“Okay, sorry. That was rash,” I admitted. “Also, I left my sandwich behind.”

I picked it up and continued eating.

“What was that all about?” She asked.

“I once knew someone with a name similar to yours and she was very dear to me,” I confessed. “But I didn’t care about her. Though I wanted to be friends with her, and close with her, but...I guess can’t really do that when you’re unable to be close with others.”

“Okay, so it’s someone dear to you that you don’t care about?” She asked as she counted on her fingers. What she counted, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes. Exactly. See, you get it. By the way, I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

Damn, she got me there.

“But yeah, her name was Demetria, and Ceres is the Roman equivalent of Demeter...yeah, I know, I’ve done my research, but in my defense, I only found that out recently. Anyway, she was kind of a nuisance and I didn’t really understand much of her behavior and I was just fine being on my own. But I don’t know, something kind of happened over time and then I got sick and I really wanted to confide my whole life and then I told her something I shouldn’t have. I mean, it felt right at the time, but it wasn’t true.”

“What was it?”

“That I didn’t care about her.”

Her mouth hung low and she tilted her head, like she was just about to throw up.

“Okay...but didn’t you just tell me that you don’t? I swear, you keep contradicting yourself.”

“I know! My head was a mess then and it’s a mess now. I didn’t understand and rather than think about it, I decided that I didn’t want to and so I haven’t been, but it still bothers me.”

“Sounds like you need a therapist,” she pointed out.

“Hey, that’s what I told you.”

“Yeah, and how do you know I don’t have one?”

Argh. I didn’t consider that one.

“I don’t know. I think I still need to figure out how to identify that I care about something. That would be a good first step. But still, I wish I could take it back. I can at least identify that as a mistake.”

“So, Rhea Flection? You didn’t do any self-reflection?”

I scowled.

“Ceres Lee? Seriously?”

She nudged me, I nudged her back. We both laughed.

“I can’t believe you called me cute only to talk about another girl,” she laughed, “do you know what that all sounds like to me?”

Don’t say ‘love’. Please.

“What?” I asked, as much as I’d rather not hear the answer.

“It sounds like I’m in some kind of romantic comedy! Like I walked into a movie set and I didn’t even know it!”

“Oh, come on. These things can happen. This isn’t fiction, it’s real life.”

“I know, I know,” she laughed and wiped away some sweat from her eye. “It’s just...so cliché, y’know?”

“I guess,” I grumbled, “but if I’m gonna be feeling things, I’d like to know that I’m feeling things.”

Ceres pulled out her phone.

“Oh hey, I still have like fifteen minutes before I gotta get back. Wanna walk around town a bit?”

“Sure, but I don’t see why,” I replied and shrugged.

We walked past her place of employment, past the various shops, and continued to wander.

“I need to kill off time. I’m not about to go back to work early!” She explained.

Makes sense, but why am I tagging along?

“Look! It’s a hat shop!” She’d point out, or, “look! An ostrich museum!”

My eyes scanned around throughout; nothing of interest stood out to me, but I didn’t want to miss anything in case something caught my eye.

From an alleyway shot out a thin thread-like appendage in Ceres’ direction. Acting fast, I ducked, then shoved Ceres out of the way. She wobbled a bit, lost her balance, then fell. Still better than whatever that thing would’ve done to her.

“Hey, what was that for?!” She balked.

“Sorry. Just wait here,” I instructed.

I ran into the alleyway. It may have been nothing or it may have been a trap. Even if I had ran right into a trap, I would much rather have done so than endanger some stranger I just met.

At first, I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just a dead-end alleyway with a dumpster and a brick wall in the very back. Then, as if materialized from the shadow cast by the enclosed area, was a dark cloaked figure with a blank white stone mask over where their face should have been. Behind the mask was a thick head of long, flowing golden hair. They pointed one near-skeletal thin hand forward, and out from the cloak, released several more of those appendages.

I ducked and rolled toward the side of the wall.

“You have evaded every one of my traps, and in some cases, were already lying in wait with a countermeasure,” they spoke, a solemn monotone, not unlike my own voice, but with a wispy tone of sorrow attached.

“Uh, sorry for being smart, I guess?”

They shook their head.

“Even as those you’ve allied yourself with in the arctic are encased in an inescapable fog, you remain unharmed. But that all ends now. Once you are gone, I will have no need for such drastic measures.”

After hearing those words, I was stunned and I felt the shivers return, along with a tenseness I didn’t anticipate.

“What are you talking about? For that matter, who are you?” I forced out the words, a heavy and chilly breath let out along with them.

“The fact that you don’t know only makes it worse,” uttered their cryptic reply.

From behind me I heard the clacks of shoes and caught in the corner of my eye, Ceres, running up to me.

“What’s going on? Who is this guy?” She asked.

“No offense, but I think they’d just give you the same answer they gave me,” I replied without much thought, and then upon realizing who was next to me, turned to scold. “I thought I told you to stay where you were!” I hissed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why!” She argued.

“That’s because I didn’t know what was up, but you should trust that I wouldn’t just push somebody for no reason!”

My presumed enemy spoke up and freed me from my distraction.

“So I see you’ve brought someone else with you. Rather unfortunate, but I will dispose of you both.”

“Go. Now,” I hissed at Ceres.

She looked at me, then over to the cloaked figure.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good call,” she nodded, and began to run out, but fell.

“Ow! It’s like there’s an invisible wall or something,” she rubbed her forehead.

They must have set up a bounded field. They’re really expecting to trap us in and kill us both.

Each of their arms stretched out now and the fingers on each hand turned to little blades. Along with that, several thorny vines protruded from each arm.

“Okay. This guy certainly isn’t normal,” in fact, I’m reminded of a previous encounter. “Ceres,” I addressed her, “I’m much better at taking a life than I am defending one, so I suggest you take cover behind that dumpster.”

“Taking a li – What are you talking about?!” She cried out.

Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll take any hits that come, so just take cover.”

At last, she did as I instructed, and hid behind the dumpster.

With little time to react, I covered my head with each arm as the vines shot forth my way. Their thorns cut right into my arms and I felt each sting. I ducked under to avoid any more hits, and moved forward toward the figure, whose arms were poised to strike me. Before they could slice through me, I grabbed one of their arms and tossed them into the nearby wall, their back slammed again and they fell back.

“Let me guess: Buddy Fairweather?” I asked as I stood back up.

“Took you long enough. He was just a spare corpse, but I was the man who spoke through him, yes,” oozed out his voice as he picked himself back up.

Spare corpse?

“I should have known better to assume it would end with him,” I remarked. If I recall, I even figured that things wouldn’t end, but just like a fool, I forgot all about it.

“How unfortunate, indeed. But it will end with you. You’re powerless without your rifle. Worse, you have no weapons, nor any means of defense.”

I hate to admit, but he’s right. I can take some hits, I’ve got my reflexes, but I’m unequipped against a supernatural being.

“Hey Ceres! Find me something to use as a weapon, will ya?” I called over.

“You want me to go dumpster diving?!” She called back.

“Yeah!”

She stood up and opened the lid and I saw several of those vines launch toward her again.

“Nope!” I kicked my leg up and stamped those series of vines out of the way. His clawed hand struck at my leg and I lifted it higher just to avoid them.

That was a close call.

“I found a metal rod!” Ceres exclaimed.

How convenient.

She tossed it over, but a few of those vines caught it instead. They worked together to bend, then snap them in half. Desperate, I grabbed onto them from the base of one of his arms and yanked against them. As I squeezed and tugged, the thorns from the vines tore against my palm and bled through. I would just have to endure a bit of bleeding.

As I exerted my strength, I slammed the group of vines against the wall. At the same time, they were successful in snapping the metal rod in half, but also dropped the split pieces as well. I hurried and picked them up in each hand, and at that same instance, he tried to strike down with both of his bladed hands. I caught them with both rods.

I then ducked down and released the rods, then shoved them both into his chest. To my surprise, blood seeped through the wound.

“Rhea! Are you okay?” Ceres shouted.

Jeez. No discretion at all.

“So you’re going by that name, now? Before you only used it as a ruse, but now you embrace it?” He asked, still alive, even through what should have been a fatal wound. But of course, I knew better than to consider something so simple to be fatal. Not when I wasn’t dealing with a simple person in the first place.

“What’s it to you?” My lips spread to an ecstatic smile.

“I only find it amusing, is all,” he seemed to smile as well, then took one of his hands and swiped right at me. I managed to pull out one of the rods to block the attack, but in the process of trying to pull out the other, his other hand swiped faster than I could react and slashed across my face. Small cuts formed along my cheek. As much as he got a clear hit in, I was most surprised to find how little I felt from it.

“Are you hurt?!” Ceres cried out.

Blood ran down from my cheek, but I only felt a little bit of a sting at best.

“No, I’m just bleeding,” I replied, then turned to my enemy, “don’t you know that if you wanna go in me, you have to go deeper?”

He tried to slash again, but I wouldn’t let him get away with it twice, not when I was sure he’d make for a more fatal cut the second time around. I pulled out the other rod, blood oozed from the gash in his chest, but he looked unfazed by the injury. I blocked his swipe, then kicked him back into the wall and plunged the tip of one of the split rods into his head. He blocked with his bladed hand, but it just went through as well and I continued to drive it in until it tore through his mask and wedged its way into his skull.

He gasped out and cracks formed in his mask until it broke off. In its place, instead of a face, looked to be a mass of worms.

“I take it that after I tear you apart, this won’t end?” I asked.

“Yes...this is but one feeble body…”

“Good to know,” I hissed, then took the other rod and jammed it back into his chest.

As he gasped out his last breaths, the worm-face caved in and formed something of a smile.

“Tell me: do you fear death?” He rasped.

I shook my head.

“No. But I fear what you might do with the dead,” I answered.

After that, his body dissolved into a black ooze, then a puff of smoke which fizzled up until it faded and there was no longer a single trace that anyone, or anything, was there.

I took several heavy breaths after that and dropped the metal rods to the ground.

“What was all that?!” Ceres stood beside me in shock. “For that matter, what did he mean by anything he said?! And ‘rifle’?”

“A rifle is a type of gun,” I informed her.

“I know that! Okay…” she took heavy breaths as well, more out of shock than anything, as she had no trace of injury save for some bruises from falling. “How do we get out of here and are you going to be okay? You’re badly injured!”

“This?” I looked down at my arms. “Nah. I’ve had worse. But that should’ve gone smoother, that’s for sure. All that tells me is that I’ve been slacking. But that was just the rush I need.”

I was smiling. Even a simple sense of heat from injuries were enough for me.

“What do you mean?”

I smiled.

“I guess I’m just never truly alive unless it’s in a fight.”

“Okay...you’re scaring me a little. But seriously, how are we going to get out of here? Weren’t we blocked off?”

I shrugged.

“Those barrier devices aren’t meant to last for a long time. They usually dissipate after a while,” I explained. They’re good when you want to trap someone in and are confident that you can take care of your target quickly. Less effective in prolonged fights. However, it’s more concerning that he had one set up at all. I don’t have to think very hard to understand the implications.

“Well, gee, ain’t that fucking convenient?” She just about gasped. Poor barista must’ve seen too much and if I had to guess, her head was spinning in a thousand different directions.

I unzipped my jacket and took it off, then dropped that on the ground as well. It was dirty now and did me no good, seeing how torn it had become due to the nature of the fight. As soon as I did so, I began to shiver with greater intensity.

“Are you all right?” She looked up and asked.

“Y-yeah...it’s just a condition of mine. Come on, let’s get out of here,” I folded my arms together and walked out from the alleyway. Sure enough, there was no barrier keeping either of us in.

“You know, I never noticed before with the jacket, but you’re really muscular,” Ceres pointed out.

“I’m surprised, myself, since I haven’t been very active in a while,” I replied. Though something tells me I’m ready to start working out again.

As soon as we stepped back out into the street, Ceres checked her phone.

“Crap! My lunch break just got over! My manager said that if I was late from my break again, she’d fire me! My life is over!” She started to freak out.

“Considering what we just went through, I’d say your life was almost over already,” I pointed out.

“This is so much worse! I don’t wanna be out of a job!” She began to whine.

“I think if you had died, you would have also been out of a job, just saying.”

“This is serious!”

I groaned. Talk about skewed priorities. Before I could argue further, she ran back toward the coffee shop.

“I’m not gonna make it in time!” She yelled as she ran. I chased after and soon caught up to her.

“You know, I don’t think your boss should fire you. If anything, it’s my fault you got into that mess,” I told her. After all, if she had literally gone to talk to anyone else, she might not have had that problem. Besides, whoever her boss was should be a little understanding over the fact that their employee’s life was threatened.

We both rushed into the coffee shop at once and she ran past the customers and into the back. I followed behind, even though that probably wasn’t allowed. But who was I to care about something like that?

In the back was a little area with a large porcelain sink and many dishes and soapy water filled to the top of it. At the back wall, where the uniforms were, stood the manager, a middle aged woman with curly red hair. Her arms were cross and she tapped her foot.

“Ceres Lee! What did I tell you would happen if you were back late from break again?” She growled.

“But...but..!” Ceres stammered and tried to come up with an explanation, but her words didn’t ever come.

“No excuses! You’re always slacking off!”

“Hey!” I cut in. Her managed turned to me and exchanged her cross expression my way.

Great. As if I really wanted to deal with confrontation.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“I’m a paying customer,” I informed her.

“Okay, well, this place is off limits, it doesn’t matter if you’re a customer or not.”

Do I look like I give a fuck what’s off limits?

“You shouldn’t fire her,” I refused to back down. “She was with me.”

“Trust me: she does this all the time. You’re not helping her case.”

I furrowed my brow and scrambled for an excuse.

“For your information, I’m her girlfriend!” I blurted out.

Ceres just looked at me all tense, her face red, and she shook it slow to tell me that what I just said was a bad idea. But as with most things, I didn’t care.

“My dear is always telling me how much she hates how little we have to spend together because of how busy you guys make her,” I came up with.

Tenser still, Ceres’s face didn’t move, but her eyes darted first to her manager, then toward me.

“Is this true? Is this person your girlfriend, Ceres?” Her manager asked.

Ceres broke a sweat, then gulped.

“Y...yes…” She squeaked out, almost inaudible.

“I see. I didn’t know we worked you so hard considering you’re PART TIME,” she just about spat in Ceres’ face. Manager or not, that just seemed unnecessary.

Looks like I’m going to have to embarrass myself now.

“Hey!” I snapped, then stepped up to the manager until she backed up into a wall. I raised my right leg up to the wall and planted my foot next to the manager’s head.

“Do you know why they call me ‘Karen Alotte’?” I growled as I asked her. She looked over to my leg in terror.

“Hey,” I snapped my fingers. “Eyes up here. Do you know why?” I asked again.

“B-Because it’s your name?” She took a feeble guess, fear having been struck in her. Just like Ceres, her face turned red as well.

“No. It’s because I be carin’. A lot,” I then pointed behind me. “Now, my girl over there, this job is important to her, and I know that if she loses it, she’s going to be hurt. She’ll cry. That girl means the world to me and if I know that she’s been hurt, there will be hell to pay.”

“I...I see…” She glanced over at my leg. How disgusting. Couldn’t even look me in the eye.

“Let me tell you something: when I first met Ceres, I thought she was a weirdo. I didn’t understand her at all. She’d say things like ‘I want her to step on me’ and ‘wow, she could kill me and I’d thank her’,” as I was about to go on, I was interrupted by Ceres:

“What?! Er...I mean, that’s private stuff!” She was doing her best to play along, I could tell. I ignored her outcry. I wasn’t finished.

“But over time, she grew into an amazing person, someone who was both admirable and admired me as well. Sure, she still says weird things sometimes, but I love her anyway, and I know I’ve said some hurtful things in the past, things like how I didn’t care about her, but how could I not care about her? I mean, she’s…” I looked over to Ceres. She tried to force a smile through clenched teeth. “Well, just look at her!”

“Ahem,” her manager cleared her throat. “I...see your point,” she then turned to her employee, “Ceres!”

Ceres stood up stiff.

“Yes, ma’am?” She shouted, as if she was a cadet in an army.

“I’ll let you off with another warning, just today, but try to separate your love life from work. Got it?”

“Yes,” she hung her head low.

“Good. Get yourself cleaned up and get back out on the floor!”

I waved to Ceres.

“Bye, honey,” I told her in a teasing voice. After that, I walked away. As soon as I stepped out from the coffee shop, I heaved out a huge breath.

“Damn, that was embarrassing. I’m never going to that coffee shop again,” I told myself, then headed back to the apartment. There were a few things I had to retrieve before I could leave town.

For the most part, I didn’t really have anything to take with me. I gave away all the items in the apartment, save for the snuggie. That I wrapped around myself like a cape. I told the landlord that she could go to hell, and as much as I could have bought that apartment complex out, I figured it would be a waste, since I wouldn’t do anything with it, and I was ready to ditch that whole city anyway.

I had to take a few flights, as the next city I visited turned out to be a bust. But someone suggested I try another city, so I went, and at last found what, or rather, who I was looking for.

“Well, well,” she smiled her sinister smile as her head was leaned back against a shack, “look who decided to show up.”

“Hey Wendy,” I waved and already felt like I was going to regret being there. Beside Wendy was a large cup from a fast food restaurant and she took it and sipped through the straw, then set it back down.

“Name’s Ellie Tomiko now,” she informed me with a sly smile that told me she wasn’t all too serious about that change.

“Okay. Whatever. Sure.”

“Oh, poo. You’re no fun,” she seemed disappointed, then offered her drink to me, “want some?”

I took her cup and took a sip, then spit it out.

“What is that crap?!” I exclaimed.

“What? Never had soda before?”

“I know what soda tastes like. That was not it.”

“Okay, so maybe it got flat and then turned warm from sitting out in the sun too long, but it's still good,” she took a sip to demonstrate. Her taste buds must’ve been broken.

“What’s the point of something being warm if I can’t feel it? There wasn’t even any steam.”

“Because not everything warm has steam and not everything’s about you,” she informed me.

“I never said anything was. It just doesn’t make sense to me, is all.”

“So everything warm doesn’t matter if it’s not steamy? What about love?”

That didn’t make sense to me. Leave it to her to impart the philosophical questions, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around how you could assign a temperature to an emotion.

“How do you make love steamy?” I asked her.

“Want me to show you?” She smiled that sly smile once again, and I decided I was better off not knowing.

“Nah. I don’t trust you. I can always look it up online later.”

“Very well. So what can I do for you? By the way, you just missed her.”

I wasn’t sure who she was talking about.

“Who?” I asked.

She ignored the question, just as I figured she would.

“How have you been?” She asked instead.

I shrugged.

“Fine, I guess. I’m still alive.”

“That makes one of you,” she observed. That kind of stung a little. “But good. It’s good to see you.”

“What about you?” I asked, out of courtesy.

“Can’t complain. I’ve got plenty of money now. I took your advice and checked out that diner. Ray’s got me working as an escort now.”

“An escort?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. I help people along, get them to safety.”

“Why does he have you doing that for?”

“You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” She asked right back instead.

Wrong. I have some idea.

“No. Tell me.”

“Basically, soon after you left, a thick fog filled the air and has remained since. Anyone who passes through it gets injured, and that’s only if they’re lucky. Some wind up dead. There’s no physical force that gives these injuries, but some people report seeing shadows in the fog, and others claim to hear voices, but can’t make out the words. Almost like the work of ghosts.”

This is all my fault. If not for my shortsightedness…

“Anyway, because of the properties of my sword, I’m able to pass through unharmed, even if it is difficult to navigate around. So Ray has me gather anyone I can and either send them to the diner, or send them to the nearest hospital. It hasn’t engulfed all of the arctic, but the fog seems to spread further with each passing day. All flights to and from the area have been canceled, in hopes of minimizing the risk.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“It’s like an ebb and flow. Sometimes it eases up. Not the fog itself, but the damages. There’s periods where people don’t pass through. It’s still a risk being away, but he says he can afford to keep the place together as long as things don’t get too bad, but when things start to pick up again, the risk, the injuries, all that, I go back.”

“Are they all okay?” I asked.

“They’re still holding up, but it wears at them. I suspect it’s only a matter of time and they’d already be gone by now if not for outside help.”

“Outside help?”

“Yeah. They’ve practically made it into a full on restaurant again, except they don’t charge people. People sleep in the booths and any spare room there is. There’s a waitress and everything.”

Waitress. That brings to mind De...no, shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“Who’s the waitress?”

She shrugged.

“Dunno. Some kid with white hair. She takes the orders, Tigershark makes the food. Ray and Sunny oversee the whole thing. It’s a mess, but they’re making it work.”

That’s at least somewhat of a relief.

Before I could probe her for any more questions, her phone rang.

Oh, that’s new. She has a phone.

“Well speak of the devil!” Ellie (or Wendy) exclaimed, “how’s it going, Ray? Guess who’s with me right now. R –” Before she could continue, I gestured to her by sliding my finger across my neck and scowling. For added measure, I kicked her in the shin. “– Ow. Rowdy Roger, my good friend Roger.”

She then held the phone away and covered it with her hands.

“What was that for?” She hissed.

“I don’t want him to know I’m here,” I muttered.

She shook her head and put the phone back up to her ear.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I was feeling a bit silly, sorry about that. Oh? That bad, huh? All right, I’ll be on my way. Just keep holding out, okay? Bye.”

She hung up and set the phone down.

“Well, looks like that’s my cue,” she announced.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“Why? Worried about them?”

I gulped. My head sunk.

She studied me, then spoke again:

“You miss them, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well look at you, my little Remora’s grown up. She’s got emotions,” she remarked.

“Hey, don’t tease me,” I pouted. “It’s just...I left and I shouldn’t have and now this…”

“What about Demetria?”

Oh, of course she had to go there.

“Yes. I miss her too.”

She scratched her chin.

“What if you see her again and she’s not the same person you knew when you last saw her?”

“That doesn’t matter. I want to see her again. I want to see everyone again.”

“You know, I’ve seen her recently. She’s gotten stronger. She might even be strong enough to take you on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Ellie let out a heavy sigh, then looked up.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, which I’m sure you will, but the two of you really piss me off.”

“What? Where is this coming from?” I was taken aback.

“You know where it’s coming from,” she smiled her usual smile, even if I could tell her words were sincere, “you start feeling things you don’t understand and what do you do? You get all worked up and leave. Do you know what you do when you don’t understand something?”

“What?” I asked, even though I didn’t really like the lecture.

“You work on figuring it out! It’s just like if you’re on a mission, you gather all the information you need, you look for a solution.”

“But it’s not a mission,” I corrected.

“It was important to you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Well if you won’t think about it when it’s important, maybe it would help to think of it as a mission. As for her, she’d go on and tell me how ‘it’s no longer part of my life, so it’s no longer important’ as if that makes any sense at all.”

“It doesn’t?” I asked. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

“Come on. You’re no longer a janitor, but that life affects you, does it not?”

Ugh…

“Yeah.”

“So don’t you think it’s dumb to be like, ‘well, that didn’t work out, so it no longer matters to me’ when it clearly does. You guys can have your little soap opera if you want, misunderstand to your heart’s desire, but I’d really like to be left out of it. I like you guys, but I’m not here to babysit.”

“Thanks, I think?”

She shook her head.

“No problem. So about this fog situation, what are you going to do about it? We can’t let it keep going on, can we?”

That time, it was my turn to shake my head.

“I’ll gather as much information as I can, then work toward a solution,” I concluded.

“Good. Now, I should start heading out.”

“How are you going to get there?” I asked.

“I’ll figure out a way. What about you?”

“Same.”

As she was about to turn away, I asked her:

“Hey. Can we...be friends?”

She turned around and blinked.

“Friends? Sure.”

“Cool. Can I have your number?”

She smiled and held out the phone.

“This isn’t my phone.”

“Oh,” well, that was a bust.

“What about you?” She asked.

“I don’t have a phone right now. But I’ll get one eventually.”

She gave a light chuckle.

“Well, Remora, I’m sure we’ll see each other soon one way or another. Take care, eh?”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “You too.”

Before we parted ways, she added, “wait right here.” After about a minute, she came out from the shack and handed me a sheet of paper.

“This should give you some leads.”

I folded the paper and placed it into my pocket.

Once we parted ways, I read the note, then began to formulate a plan: first, I would have to dye my hair again. Then, I’d need a boat. In other words, it was time for me to get rid of all my money and do something drastic.

[amerie-wadia]

balancing on breaking branches: part two

jj goes to the water when the world begins to spiral around him. always has → read on ao3

a/n: wrote this a few days ago and waited to post bc i wanted to write more but i like how this turned out and i don’t want to write a bunch of nothing just to meet the word count of the first part. 

If JJ had a boat life would be a lot easier. If he had a boat he’d be setting sail and cruising straight down the Atlantic Coast, swerving a hard right near Miami, and finally touching down in the Yucatan Peninsula. He could swim and surf and eat lobsters until his hair went grey and his back broke down. He could have a houseboat with a slide and sleep with all the windows open so he could hear the crickets and the crashing waves along the rocks and sand.

If he had a boat he could sail away before Pope found him.

But JJ didn’t have a boat. Nor did he have anywhere to hide. He wasn’t dumb enough to go right back to Rixton’s Cove, but he was dumb enough to go to the Chateau. Well, it wasn’t a dumb idea at the time. The HMS Pogue was at the Chateau and JJ was in need of a boat. A plus B and all that.

The real difference was: Pope had a car. So while JJ ran and tried as hard as he could to think about Yucatan and lobsters and stars, Pope had managed to drive all over town and still made it to the Chateau before JJ. And JJ would’ve turned around if it wasn’t so dark outside and Pope’s car hadn’t been turned off.

“JJ? What the hell, man?”

Pope’s voice shocked him and he jumped, instinctively clenching his fists out in front of his chest in case the noise was Barry coming to pay his respects. Or Luke.

It was Pope. Standing, back hunched slightly in the worried way that Pope often stood, with his hands lowered and eyes kind and wide. And JJ had the biggest fucking crush on him.

“You can’t just walk away when someone’s talking to you,” Pope continued but JJ was furious and still shocked and he shoved past Pope hard enough that Pope stumbled. To JJ’s dismay, he followed JJ through the yard and around back. “JJ!”

“Shut up, Pope.”

He marched up the steps of the porch, up and down around the police tape, and into the house. Pope followed him more gracefully as JJ took the HMS Pogue keys from the kitchen counter bowl where they always sat.

“Taking evidence from a crime scene, that’s really smart.”

“This isn’t a fucking crime scene.”

“This isn’t a crime scene? Look around, dude!”

JJ tried to shove past Pope but he stood firm in the doorway with his arms outstretched. JJ wanted to shove him as hard as he could but he also refused to push very hard. Not when one wrong blow could send everything crumbling down.

“The cops are gonna come looking for you if you take that? And what then, JJ, do you want to be considered an accessory for murder?”

“John B didn’t fucking murder anyone.”

“I’m being serious right now. Do you really want to give the cops more reason to put you in jail?”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Well I do.”

JJ froze, giving up on shoving around Pope and instead he huffed and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Move.”

“Only if you’ll talk about what you said to me.”

“Pope, no—”

“Yes, we’re going to talk about this.”

“God, Pope. Just fucking move!” JJ threw his hands too hard, palms out, and shoved Pope backward. Pope’s grip on the doorframe was stiff and he definitely stumbled but he didn’t fall to the ground like JJ was expecting. His eyes were wide and JJ couldn’t tell if it was fear or just the darkness of the room. “Move!”

JJ knew he was being childish, knew he sounded childish as his voice began to tremble with rage and exhaustion and a bit of desperation. Pope shook his head.

“Let’s talk. That’s all I want to do and then you can sail away to Yucatan or wherever the hell you were planning on going.”

Pope let a hand fall from the doorframe and motioned for JJ to sit down on the couch.

“Wasn’t gonna go to Yucatan,” JJ mumbled as he took a seat. Pope didn’t turn on any of the lights but the moon glowed through the windows just brightly enough that JJ could see the curves of Pope’s face. It was private but JJ knew he was still seen and he wished the moon would just shut up.

“You like me, huh?”

It sounded so innocent when Pope said it that way. Maybe it had always been innocent. But the thought of Pope knowing, the thought of Kie knowing, felt violating and raw and guilty.

“Maybe.”

“It was really brave of you to tell me.”

“Shut up, Pope.”

“I mean it.”

“Shut up, Pope!” JJ yelled, angry that Pope wasn’t angry. Angry that Pope wasn’t hitting him or kissing him. Angry that this revelation seemed to have such a tiny effect on Pope while simultaneously tearing JJ apart. “If I could take it back I would, but I can’t. It was stupid and we can just forget that it ever happened.”

“It wasn’t stupid.”

This conversation was stupid and it was too dark to see Pope’s facial expressions and JJ knew if he got up now Pope couldn’t stop him.

“Can we just forget about it?” JJ asked instead because he most likely couldn’t make it to Yucatan in the HMS Pogue and in a few years all his debts might be paid off and maybe he could actually just buy a plane ticket.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Pope said, quietly and confidently and in a voice so raw it gave JJ goosebumps. JJ knew it wasn’t what he wanted, knew Pope was just being a good friend. But Pope’s voice sounded different, sounded gentler and it hurt.

“What do you want, then? To sit in the dark and talk about our feelings?”

“Well—”

“It was a rhetorical question, Pope!”

“No, JJ. That is what we should do because John B is dead and you haven’t talked to your friends in two months. We’ve been so worried about you man, about your dad. And then when we finally do talk again you tell me that you’re basically starving and that you like me and now you just want to run away again and ignore us? Not this time.”

Pope’s hand raised into the air and then came crashing down in the space between JJ’s fingers and it was strong and gentle and made JJ’s skin feel like it was on fire. Pope squeezed, drawing their fingers together so tightly that JJ knew he couldn’t just run away. Pope had to know the effect that it had on JJ.

“Please, don’t cut me out again.” Pope’s voice was shaky and it sounded slushy and JJ momentarily forget how to turn inhales in exhales and by the time he could manage to get a full breath in, he realized he was actually going to have to be honest with Pope.

JJ was really good at partial truths. He was a good liar because there was always a tinge of truth—hidden between the lines somewhere—in all the lies he told. He had spent his whole life making excuses and crafting stories that were so close to the truth that no one could see where the blurred lines were drawn in the sand.

But Pope was asking for the truth. The real, whole, honest truth. And JJ didn’t know how on earth to be truthful.

“What else do you want me say?” he asked because there were a million things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t say too much and ruin everything more than he already had. Omitting the truth was different than lying, it wasn’t pretend. It was just strategic.

“How, uh, long?”

“A long time, Pope.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The darkness coated some of the awkwardness but the air between them was heavy and JJ wished he had something to fiddle with.

“Like, for real?” Pope asked suddenly, maybe even hopefully. JJ wished Pope would stop asking because JJ had already told him he liked him, he didn’t need to be teased over and over again.

“No, Pope, I’m just fucking with you. Yeah, I’ve had a crush on your since I met you and it’s super embarrassing and I really don’t want to keep talking about it, okay?”

“A crush?”

JJ wanted to scream but he didn’t have the energy.

“Yeah, a crush.”

Pope’s hand was still tethered to his own the touch was a bit too much right now. Pope’s grip loosened and suddenly he drew his hand back. Maybe he was thinking about all the times JJ had stood too close or texted him too late into the night. Maybe he was thinking about—

Lips.

Lips pressing against JJ’s own that must belong to Pope because there was nobody else in the room. Lips that engulfed his own, lips that JJ had been dreaming about for years suddenly kissing him. Pope was kissing him.

Hands.

Hands whose fingertips brushed around his ears and through his hair and held his head steady. Hands that could just as easily be hitting him but held him so gently.

JJ’s breath hitched and he relaxed his lips, pressing them against Pope’s and drew his own hands around Pope’s neck to cradle the back of his head.

The moment was gone just as quickly as it had come and Pope’s eyes were the only light in the room but JJ didn’t need to see Pope to know he had never looked more handsome.

“So much for talking,” JJ teased, breathless and flustered but feeling the first shred of confidence he had all night. “What was that?”

“That was a kiss, JJ.”

JJ rolled his eyes.

“I know that. I mean, why did you do that?”

“I’ve always wanted to,” Pope whispered, face so close to JJ that he could feel the breath on his skin. Pope’s lips lingered around JJ’s but didn’t come close enough to touch.

“You have?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Maybe you should do it again, then?”

Before Pope could make up his mind and before JJ melted into the couch cushions, he drew Pope’s face towards his own and pressed their lips together again. Pope’s hands wrapped around his waist this time, tugging JJ closer to dismiss the space between them. Pope’s lips were one thing, but having his entire body pressed against JJ was a whole different story.

It was real and it was happening and it was everything and nothing like JJ had pictured it. All the daydreams of Pope’s hands and his lips and his smile gave him butterflies and rosy cheeks, but the real Pope made JJ speechless, made him feel like he was walking on water, made him feel so confident he could run a marathon or paint the Mona Lisa. The real Pope was a million times better than the daydream Pope.

“Don’t go away again,” Pope pleaded into the kiss, voice wet but light and just as breathless as JJ’s. “Please.”

“I won’t,” JJ promised, tucking his face into Pope’s shoulder and indulging in the immense comfort and safety he felt there. Pope’s arms drew him closer somehow, stable and real against his body.

———————————————————————

taglist: @ifyourelostyoucanlook @backintheggamebaby @playitaagain @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @the-pogues @apoguecalledjj @kiaracameron @midsommers

[americanopouroverplease]

Sweat It Out: Chapter One

Seokjin X Reader

Word Count; 5,604

Potential Warnings: Blatantly poor use of French terminology, genuinely bad choice in nicknames, Seokjin making terrible dad jokes at the gym, scene stealing jungkook wearing muscle shirts & generally being an adorable muscle bun. 

Thank you to @ksmuttherapy​ & @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading for me!

Please Note! -- Reader in this story is plus sized! As such, certain descriptors will be used and if this detracts from the story for you then I hope you are able to find something else that rocks your frock! 

If pain had a soundtrack you were certain it would be the incessantly upbeat elevator music blaring through the speakers as you grunted and suffered your way through yet another sweat soaked set of heaving sumo squats. Your thighs were spread wide for all the wrong reasons as the lycra blend of your leggings were being stretched to their absolute limit. The grimace pulling at your lips was inherently reminiscent of the principal from Matilda and you were absolutely sure that in this very moment she was prettier than you.

“Dig deep! 10 more!” The trainer was already getting on your nerves with his ridiculous abs and insanely thick biceps. He was getting paid to stand off in the corner of the room while you wheezed and wailed like a dying animal. There wasn’t a single drop of sweat on his perfect skin while you groaned, dropping your weight low only to huff with the effort of lifting your substantial bulk upward once more. “Don’t let yourself down! You’re almost done!”

“How is this legal?” The screech escaped you before you could even think to stop yourself. Of course the only response your trainer gave was a low chuckle as he crossed his arms over that absurdly large chest of his. 

“It’s legal because you pay him.” One of your fellow suffering souls offered as he too continued your joint endeavor in self inflicted torture. “Look at him, he feeds off this.” 

“If you have time to complain you have time to do single leg lunges!” If you weren’t so preoccupied with the burning pain consuming your hamstrings and the complete lack of stamina you’ve built up over your years of working a desk job and eating cinnamon rolls you would fire off your best shots at the trainer. Instead, you settled for fantasizing about using your thighs to crush his big gym rat skull. 

“Don’t listen to him.” Your agonized counterpart called out. “It’ll only make this worse in the long run.” In between each lunge you chanced a glance away from the trainer and over to your new partner in complaint. His cheeks were full, but his lips were even more generous as he pursed and let out huge puffs of agonized breath. He didn’t seem to be out of shape at all, which made you hesitate in appreciating his finer attributes. The muscles filling out his sweat-soaked t-shirt were clearly defined, but what really took your breath away (besides all these squats and lunges) was the fact that his shoulders would obviously enter any room before the rest of him did. Was he even real? Or were you just swept up in an endorphin and exercise fueled haze of fantasy?

“3...2...1!” The trainer’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts only to force you to realize that this entire time you’d been staring at the broad shouldered giant flexing his thighs almost directly in front of you. If your face wasn’t already beet red from exercise the mortification and sheer embarrassment would do it for you. “That’s time!” 

You ran your own business, you were strong and independent. You sank down to the floor, sprawled out, and shut your eyes as you pretended to catch your breath in an attempt to avoid making any potential eye contact with the currently sweaty, also currently gorgeous and far too athletic man for your own good. You were a smart woman who knew how to pick and choose her own battles. 

“I regret everything.” The wheezing prattle sounded just beside you, surprising enough to be the perfect catalyst in opening your eyes. “I blame myself. I can’t stop eating, food is an addiction and there is no cure.” Shoulders was flopped on the floor right next to you in all your sticky, sweaty, stinky glory. He didn’t seem phased by your appearance in the least. 

“You should regret everything, hyung. How did you eat seven lobsters anyway?” The trainer, at some point, moved to join the two of you on the floor. “I thought you were going to make yourself sick.” 

“You know each other?” You were sitting up now, curiosity flaring as you shifted around and began to stretch. Truth be told, you hated every aspect of stretching, but if you didn’t the muscle ache would be that much worse tomorrow. 

“We’re related.” Your trainer smiled, big bunny teeth on display as he watched you push yourself forward and reach toward your toes. “That’s a great stretch, you can also lay flat, then draw one leg up toward your chest and rock. It’s really good for your back and spine.” 

“Cousins, and how do you even have the energy to move right now?” The breathtaking man was still pressed to the floor, cheeks puffed out as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. “Jungkook if I weren’t already dead I would kill you for this.” 

“You’ll thank me when you’re old and don’t have type 2 diabetes.” Jungkook grinned, “Y/N, the lump on the floor is my cousin, Jin. I’m currently trying to save him from himself.” 

“This face will still be handsome even if it has diabetes.” Jin retorted, then dragged himself up from the floor just enough to face you with a smile. “I’m worldwide handsome, but I do answer to Seokjin.” He lifted his hand, only to blow you a kiss and wink. What were you supposed to say to that? 

“I see.” Was he used to people staring at him? He didn’t seem surprised or offended when you openly admired his body. He couldn’t be a model if he routinely ate as much as Jungkook implied. The only thought that sprang up from this conclusion was a lurid amount of jealousy over his apparent metabolism. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Hyung! She didn’t even blush!” Jungkook wasn’t rolling on the floor with laughter but he was obviously amused by your lack of reaction to Jin’s flirting. He had one hand clasped on his cousin’s shoulder as he leaned exceptionally close to the man’s sweaty face. 

“I only have two options now.” Jin responded with an air of solemnity. His eyes were hooded, expression far too serious for a gym floor as he shifted his weight closer to your form. “I’m going to give you my greatest joke, and if that doesn’t work I’m going to beg you to let me take you out on a date.” 

“Excuse me?” You felt stunned, not only because the subject matter seemed so scattered but had this man actually just casually asked you out after seeing you at your worst? It was 7 pm on a Wednesday night just after you spent the past forty-five minutes heaving your weight back and forth in an attempt to convince your metabolism to decide it was finally okay for you to go from a generous 2X to a reasonable medium or large size pant.

“What do runners eat before a sprint?” You blinked once, twice, and then realized he actually expected you to give him an answer. When your glance shifted toward Jungkook the overgrown muscle simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned. 

“If I say that I don’t know, can we move on?” You pressed gently, not wanting to be rude, but also feeling a little out of your depth. You were well aware that your body type was not considered conventionally attractive. It felt suspicious to have the seemingly undivided attention of someone who could snag any woman or man he wanted with his looks alone. No one flirted with you unless they had a fat fetish, and you always steered clear of those types. 

“Nothing, they fast!” The joke was terrible, but the laughter that followed was even worse. You could only describe the sound escaping Jin’s throat as something eerily similar to windshield wipers scraping along the glass. It took a full minute of you staring at him with wide eyes for the laughter to subside. 

“She didn’t laugh hyung.” Jungkook was still grinning wide, leaving the rest of Jin’s previous declaration unspoken. 

“Do I need to beg, Y/N?” Instantly all signs of humor were gone; replaced by soulful eyes fixed directly upon your face. Jin shifted and knelt in front of you, his palms pressed together as he appeared to be carefully hopeful. “I will.” 

“For what?” You hedged, feeling confused at best, and uncomfortable at worst. You had signed up for this exercise class in order to try and lose weight, to build up your confidence. Nowhere in the gym agreement was there a clause including fit men who seemed out of your league flirting with you and asking you out on dates you weren’t ready for. Was he serious? 

“Please, Y/N, will you let me take you out for a nice dinner and delightful conversation?” 

“Where and when?” As entertaining as it felt to watch a man kneel and beg for your time and attention there was no helping the wariness you felt. Prior experience was a masterful teacher and you weren’t interested in being the butt of anyone’s joke.

“I wouldn’t dream of making your decisions for you.” Jin readily replied, his cheeks full and round as he smiled widely. “I’ll let you choose, anything you want.” 

“Anything?” You sounded skeptical, and didn’t bother trying to hide it as you crossed your arms beneath your breasts and stared at the man before you. He nodded, almost eagerly. 

“Any restaurant you want, I promise I’ll find something I like to eat. Food is a passion of mine.” You heard Jungkook snort beside you, but chose to ignore him in favor of coming up with the most expensive restaurant you could think of. 

“Fine. Take me to Le lapin blanc.” You didn’t feel nearly as calm and collected as you sounded, but he didn’t need to know that. All he needed to know was that he had to shell out serious money to prove his interest. 

“Perfect, does tomorrow work for you?” Shock registered, and then disbelief. Le lapin blanc was the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in town. There was no getting into the building without a reservation, and you couldn’t just get one overnight. 

“If you can get us in, sure.” You agreed, immediately convinced this was all a joke and you would be canceling your gym membership by the end of the week. 

“Perfect, would you like me to pick you up at seven?” He had to play the part until the end, you supposed. With a quick nod, you assumed the conversation would be over and moved to push yourself up from the floor. “Y/N, do you happen to have your phone with you?” That question caught you off guard. 

“Yes, why?” 

“I’d like to give you my phone number so that I can contact you.” Jin responded affably. “How else will I find out where to pick you up?” Ah. Right. With a little bit of reluctance you fished your cell phone from your pocket and handed the device to him. He smiled once more, patiently waiting for you to unlock it before pulling up your contact list and adding himself to it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You took your phone back once he was done, then gave him a grin of your own. “I don’t split the bill, you’re paying.” Jungkook’s snort was no more elegant than the first upon hearing this and the chortle that followed actually came from Jin. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, beautiful.” 

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You finished work at four the next day, which left you with entirely too much time on your hands when it came to getting ready for this date. What should you wear to an expensive restaurant that had napkins that could cost more than your net worth? You decided to go with one of your favorite thrift store finds that fit tightly beneath your breasts and flared out further down your stomach. A girl’s best friend was always a nice empire waistline...Unless it made her look pregnant. 

The cap sleeves looked almost demure, which you appreciated since it was the middle of summer and you were not about to suffocate stuffed into a dress with full length sleeves or a high neckline. Makeup wasn’t minimal, but you also didn’t waste any time lining your eyes when all that would do for you was make you look like an actual trash panda once ten pm rolled around. Instead, you focused on your hair and took the time to style it and smooth out any stray ends or hairs. 

The chime of your text tone echoed from your living room, drawing you away from fiddling any further with the upswept style of your hair.

Did he really send you a picture of himself with a cut out heart? What sort of man was this? When Jin asked you out the night before all you felt was suspicion. Now you were convinced he was simply missing at least sixteen of the screws required for his mental clarity to function. You neglected to respond to his text, and elected to grab your purse before locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

Were you waiting for him outside? Yes. If you were fair to yourself, which you always strove to be; being early was on time and being on time was considering yourself late. You weren’t looking forward to this dinner, sitting across a table of refined food from a man who was so good looking you felt just a little bit stupid. No, you were just being punctual. Right?

Then again, Jin might not show up at all, even if he did send you that ridiculous text message assuring you that he was already on his way. Assuming that he wouldn’t, you could give it another ten minutes before you went back inside, changed into your favorite pajamas, and settled in for a nice long night of playing Stardew Valley. 

Unfortunately all your bucolic hopes and  8-bit dreams were dashed as soon as you saw the cherry red convertible pulling up to your lot. Of course, by this point in your evening you shouldn’t have been surprised that the exceedingly symmetrical Disney prince look-alike also had an expensive car. If he wasn’t even phased by the idea of shelling out for ‘the aesthetic’ it made sense that he would also like to drive fast and live rich. 

“Y/N!” The vehicle rolled to a stop, idling as its driver made a quick leap from the front seat just to sweep you up in long arms. You felt the ground disappear from beneath your feet and questioned reality as you gripped broad shoulders so tightly your knuckles turned white. The world spun around you slowly, not fast enough to make you dizzy but noticeable to the point that you didn’t know how you felt about being picked up in the first place. 

“Jin, it’s nice to see you again.” You smiled, surprised to realize just how happy you were he did take the time to show up. If nothing else he hadn’t stood you up, and he was so very fun to look at that all you wanted to do was indulge yourself for one night. Especially if that singular night meant ritzy food that you couldn’t actually pronounce on your own. 

“You mean it’s wonderful, stunning, amazing, and spectacular to see me again? That’s how I feel about seeing you.” His hands were still settled against your waist, but they were oh so gentle as he set your feet back on the ground. “I was thinking about you all day.” 

“That sounds exhausting.” You teased, drawn in by the easy humor he still displayed even after your repeated attempts at dissuading him from showing any interest. 

“Not at all, I find every thought of you to be invigorating.” Jin replied sweetly, his soft lips pressed flush to your rounded cheek before he led you straight toward the convertible. “It isn’t every day that I get a chance to see a woman’s thighs in action without being called a pervert.” The joke should have fallen flat, but it didn’t. You were caught off guard as you settled back into the seat and reached for the seatbelt. 

“You must have a great poker face if you’re a pervert.” That earned you nothing more than a good natured snort as he pulled away from your apartment complex. The drive itself was short, barely taking more than ten minutes. Altogether, he tried to hold your hand no less than six times. Once the convertible finally pulled into the parking garage you managed to successfully evade his grasping fingers for no reason other than the exasperated and melodramatic wails that filtered past his full lips. 

“You’re a heartless woman, Y/N! How can you say no to this face?” The door was already shut behind Jin, and before you could even begin to unbuckle your seatbelt the door to the passenger side was open while your suitor took the time to free you from his vehicle. You found yourself a mere breath away from his face and suddenly realized why every single romance novel was exactly as cheesy as it was. 

“Impress me enough and I won’t say no.” You whispered, eyes wide and fixed upon the chocolate and nutmeg brown irises that threatened to overwhelm you. Temptation washed over you, begging you to let your eyes drift downward toward the plump lips curving upward into a knowing smile. Instead, you pulled away and began that short walk toward the seating area. 

“Is that a challenge, butterbean?” 

“What sort of nickname is that?” You asked, absolutely appalled by the concept of being a butter bean, much less any one specific person’s butter bean. 

“My pet name. For you, so long as you’ll let me have it.” Jin purred, his large palm pressing gently and warmly against your lower back as he maneuvered you through the slowly gathering crowd of the early evening diners. If he noticed the shiver his touch sent down your spine he chose not to mention it. 

You chose to say nothing as the waitress led you toward a table at the far end of the highest floor. The further you followed the more you questioned just how Jin was able to get this type of reservation on such short notice. The entire restaurant was usually booked out months in advance, and the most exclusive of tables were on the top two floors. By the time you realized you were going -above- the top floor and out onto the roof you felt speechless. 

“Right this way, if you please.” The waitress spoke with a heavy accent, one arm out swept toward an enclosed pavilion that reminded you more of a greenhouse than anything else. Fairy lights were strung across the ceiling in a rambling sort of pattern that draped gracefully around the countless flowers filling the room. There was a walkway, but it was surrounded by flowing water with only one bridge that could lead you over the threshold. 

“Jin. How?” You were too busy admiring the lush atmosphere, the live quartet playing soft music in the far corner, the sound of the fountain as it burbled and pushed the water through the avenues threaded through the walkway and flowers. The lights, the scents, everything was just this side of too much decadence and opulence. It was perfect. 

“Would you believe me if I said I have a few connections?” Jin asked with raised eyebrows. Eventually a table was revealed toward the center of what appeared to be a man made island in a glittering lagoon. 

“Well, tell me how to make these connections because this is the manner in which I wish to become accustomed.” You joked, eyes focused on the riot of Peruvian Lilies heaped upon one plate. It came as no surprise when Jin led you directly to the side of the table with the flowers, then proceeded to assist you in sitting down. 

“It was all sheer dumb luck, my sweet and precious butter bean.” Your eyelid twitched at the terrible name, but you refused to let it ruin what was otherwise a magnificent night. This restaurant was gorgeous, and you felt like a princess transported into a new and far away realm. The only thing that could make this better would be unlimited dessert. Did Jin have enough money to get you unlimited dessert?

“Would you like to start with a Château Margaux this evening?” The waitress was, apparently, not a waitress for she had all but disappeared and in her place was a seemingly young, also seemingly condescending man who held a bottle of wine over his arm as if it were the most dazzling thing to ever display. 

“I suppose that would be fine, Marcus. What else would you suggest?” Jin didn’t sound haughty, necessarily, but he did appear to be a little less concerned with the menu and more interested in staring into your eyes. A point that you promptly avoided by burying your own face in the menu full of letters and words you didn’t quite understand. 

“I wouldn’t dare dream of making recommendations to you, Sir.” The bottle of Margaux bobbled, ever so slightly. Jin let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. 

“We’ll have the Pauillac, Château Mouton Rothschild.” Jin replied, his gaze still fixed upon your face as the original bottle vanished, only to be replaced nearly as quickly by the desired red. 

“Is the 2005 alright, Sir?” This was met with a nod while Jin’s long fingers slowly but surely wrapped around your own. His smile was for you, though he didn’t completely ignore the man. 

“Yes, that will be fine. Pre-fix menu, tonight?” A subtle negative shake of the head, and then a notepad was produced. “Butterbean, my darling, what would you like to have for dinner?” 

“If you insist on calling me butterbean it might just be your balls.” You simpered sweetly, smile entirely saccharine as you squeezed his hand as hard as you could. The resulting wince was delicate, though the wink he sent your way was playful. 

“It’s an absolute relief to know you aren’t a vegetarian.” His fingers flexed slightly once you released them before he picked up the menu once more. 

“Well, I could always eschew meat to spite you.” This suggestion was met with the exact amount of warmth and eagerness you expected. None. The menus were flung to one side of the table as you found your hands clasped in Jin’s fingers once again. 

“Butterbean, darling! My wonderful, beautiful, incandescent paragon of virtue!” Your eyes widened slowly but surely with every additional adjective piled onto his sentence. “Don’t break my heart! You’re too great a woman to do such a thing!” By the end of his plea your fingers were intertwined with his and his grasp was so firm that there was no escape. 

“We’ll have my usual.” Jin didn’t bother tearing his eyes away from your face, which was almost intimidating even as the waiter cleared the menus from the table. Your erstwhile suitor took this chance to drag his chair closer to yours. Now, instead of sitting across from this broad shouldered adonis, there was barely any space between the two of you. “This is much better, don’t you agree my bean?” 

“I will pay you real, actually money to stop calling me that.”  You let out between grit teeth. Contrary to your own expectations this man was getting under your skin in the best possible way. He was charming, goofy in a gregarious sort of way that put you at an amused disadvantage. 

“You couldn’t pay me enough. Ever.” He hadn’t let go of your hands yet, and merely leaned closer so he could press his face close to yours before performing an exaggerated imitation of a wink. You could feel the echo in your chest as your heart fluttered. Soft was beginning to become an understatement when it came to how you felt about this man. Was that even possible?

“You would force me to resort to blackmail?” Your lips turned downward, plumped into a pout as you failed to extract yourself from his warm grasp. 

“I wouldn’t dare to force you into anything.” Seokjin began proudly, his voice carrying as he straightened in his seat. “I am not above letting you ask me to force you though.” Your fingers flexed then, breath catching in your throat at the implication. 

“You couldn’t ask me what my favorite color is first?” You did your best to cover your response, though it was hard to tell if Jin was observant enough to catch your behavior. 

“I could ask you while you’re breathless and panting beneath me.” The offer came at the exact same time as your appetizers, which caused a distinct flush to warm your cheeks as the waiter set down two plates and multiple dishes. Wine was poured while your eyes drifted firmly to the table in front of you. None of this stopped you from feeling how direct and heated your date’s gaze was as he kept one hand cradled around yours. 

“That was blunt.” In all your years of living there wasn’t a single memory of any man wining, dining, and propositioning you so openly and with so much confidence. Then again, there wasn’t any point in which someone as handsome as Seokjin showed any interest in you either. History and experience was enough to tell you this wasn’t adding up. 

“You’ve seen me at my worst, bean. I can hardly look any worse so I feel my odds are pretty high for success.” Your hand suddenly felt cold as he plucked his knife up from the table and began buttering some bread. “I know exactly what I want from you. The question is, do you want anything from me?” 

You took your time considering this query. The table was filled with various food, most of which looked as if it wouldn’t fit into your calorie count for the day so you reached for the wine glass in front of your plate instead. 

“I hardly know you, I doubt I really know what you have to offer in the first-” You paused, eyes widened as you watched your date place little bits of each appetizer on your plate before he ever put a single piece of food on his. 

“Yes, my darling butter bean?” Jin’s eyes were wide, nearly sparkling as he smiled at you with all the charm and charisma of a seasoned politician. If he noticed your confusion he didn’t mention it. 

“Why did you put food on my plate?” Mortification set in quickly, your hands clasped in your lap beneath the table as you internally questioned every life choice you ever made. Was it just Jin that caused you to ask stupid questions? Or was it the atmosphere? 

“It gives me pleasure to do so.” His response was entirely effortless, his attention focused on piling his plate just as high as yours before commencing with a truly astounding performance. His mouth didn’t seem all that big, but somehow he managed to take bites of food that were so large you worried he was intentionally choking himself. The noises that escaped him were an uneven mixture of pornographic and cute. Perhaps you didn’t need to feel embarrassed after all. 

“Okay then.” You began to let yourself relax, hoping that tonight’s meal wouldn’t set your goals back too far. Besides, cheat meals were acceptable every now and then, weren’t they?

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

“I know it’s cliche but I had a wonderful evening.” Jin’s car was parked in the lot next to your apartment building, his shoulder pressed into the driver’s seat as he leaned further toward your space. “I’m hoping desperately that you’ll allow me to bask in your presence again.” His voice was quiet, gentle and burnished velvet as he nearly whispered. 

“This might be a personal question.” You began your response, gaze directed toward your hands as your fingers grasped the seatbelt holding you in place. 

“Anything, butter bean, I’ll tell you anything and everything.” His answer was immediate, decisive, and firm. 

“Do you have to unhinge your jaw when you fit half a steak in your mouth all at once?” You asked your question, whispering this time so as not to break the hushed atmosphere yourself. He was being entirely too romantic for anyone’s good. 

“How is that even personal?” Jin exclaimed, shattering what was once a peaceful and nearly intimate moment. The expression on his face was comical, mouth dropped open and eyes widened in shock as he sputtered. “This is worse than telling me you’re a vegetarian!” 

“Oh hardly!” You soothed, grinning as you released the latch on your seatbelt before gathering your purse. “It’s a genuine question as to the mechanics of your jaw. This question is purely for scientific purposes.” You barely touched the door handle before Jin was out of the vehicle and making his way to your side of the car. 

“Science, you say?” That soft tone was back, though it clearly carried an undertone of heat to it. “You know the best way to find out is through experience.” He held the door open, his free hand waiting for you to take with his palm held up. 

“I’m not even wearing pants, how are you trying to get into them?” With your hand clasped in his, the two of you ambled slowly toward the entrance to your apartment building. You were surprised at how comfortable you felt in Jin’s presence, even if he did insist on calling you butter bean. 

“Never underestimate the power of your beauty, Y/N.” Oh. This was unexpected. What were you supposed to say to that? Was this man even real? Obviously he was, but could you really believe what you were hearing and seeing?

Thankfully you were saved from responding by the front door of your apartment. The two of you lingered in front of the steps, the beginnings of an awkward silence beginning to build. One breath, two, and then you opened your mouth to speak. 

“I had a great time too.” You mumbled, uncertain now that you were in entirely uncharted territory. You had been on dates before, but never really interested in going on another with the same person. 

“Does that mean I can cook for you next time? Or should I resign myself to only being allowed to see you as we suffer the agonies of my cousin’s training programs?” Something akin to mortification settled in your chest at the idea of Seokjin seeing you sprawled out huffing and puffing with a shining, sweating face once more. You would have to switch your sessions if you wanted to maintain any sense of romance. 

“Ah, I think I might actually switch my gym schedule.” You hesitated, frowning at the thought before you continued. “When’s a good time for you? For dinner, I mean.” Somehow you felt an absolute sense of shyness take over you. Coupled with the butterflies filling your chest the only explanation was an oncoming heart attack, right?

“And deny me the satisfaction of suffering with you?” Jin’s hand immediately clapped to his chest, fingers spread as he took on a truly legendary pout. This man should have been an actor. He was making it nearly impossible to deny him at this rate. 

“Give me one good reason not to.” Your last ditch attempt at maintaining your distance was a good one, or so you thought while the two of you stood in the cool evening breeze. Your door was just a few steps away, your humble yet cozy apartment just beyond a few locks and stairs. 

“Will this be good enough?” Jin’s face hovered barely more than a breath away from yours, chocolate eyes centered on your face as his hands traced up over your arms toward your shoulders. You’d barely opened your mouth to ask him what he meant by the time his plush lips made contact with yours. 

At first, you didn’t know how to respond. The kiss itself was unexpected, then the soft sound building and releasing in his throat was even more surprising until you felt his fingers threading through the strands of your hair. After that you discovered this was not a one-sided activity. Your arms wound around his shoulders while your head slanted to one side so you could deepen the connection. It wasn’t until he pulled away that you realized both of you were out of breath. 

“So, my precious butter bean, did I give you what you wanted?”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Skin, Bone, and Scales

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

This is just 75% fire figurative language

Word count: 6098

TW: Blood and pus, minor body horror (as in: sunburns and peeling skin)

———————

“Oh my god, you’re like a tomato with hair!”

The peculiar call caught Anne’s attention as she was changing into better shoes for rehearsals. She furrowed her eyebrows in both complexity and amusement, recognizing the voice as her little cousin. A smile formed on her lips, shaking her head at what could have possibly elicited such a strange comment.

When she walked out to the room they rehearsed in, she quickly realized what the context was and that it made perfect sense.

—

Joan had never been so hot before.

Her skin was baking, studded with blisters and boils along her shoulders and forearms and back like scales, as if she were a reptile and not a fleshy mammal. Her limbs were sacks of hot stones and smoldering embers that she had to drag around with her, and her ears simply felt as if they were lit on fire. Her cheeks, however, were by far the worst. It was like someone was holding hot iron to the sides of her face and wouldn’t let go, no matter how loud she screamed.

To put it simply, Joan felt like a roasted lamb on a spit, rotating slowly above hungry flames. Sometimes, she had fallen into their orange-gold mouths. She could almost feel the flaming tongues licking at her skin.

So, yeah. Joan wasn’t all that comfortable at the moment. And Kitty’s loud, obnoxious comments about it certainly didn’t help at all.

“It’s, like—peeling,” Kitty felt the need to declare openly. She reaches for Joan’s shoulder, but her knuckles get swatted, and she pulls away. “Oh, gross!” She laughed. “Did you put anything on it?”

“That’s not your business,” Joan hissed. The fire that has lit in her stomach flashes higher, and she could almost feel whorls of smoke wreathing out of her nose and ears. “Stop trying to touch me!” She hit Kitty’s hand away again. “And stop looking at me like that!”

As much as she hated it, she didn’t blame Kitty or anyone else for staring- she would have, too, if it were one of them that came into work glowing neon red from head to toe.

“Sorry, I don’t speak lobster!” Kitty laughed loudly and then finally backed down. She spread her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “It's just funny!”

“It really isn’t.” Joan grumbled more to herself than to the girl in front of her.

“I told you to put on sunscreen,” Jane helpfully spoke up from where she was doing some warmup stretches. Joan dared to shoot her a distasteful look.

“I did!” Joan cried woefully.

“Not enough.” Kitty giggled. ”Make sure you do next time! We don't want you animorphing into a lobster!”

Joan scowled at her grinning face and imagined what it would be like to blow hot embers in her eyes. She erased the thought quickly- not because it made her feel bad for thinking something so morbid, but because she didn’t want to give the pink queen that much of her attention.

“Moving on,” She rumbled. Her throat and nose ached in a fierce, raw way as if they had been scraped out with a jagged branding tool. She lumbered sluggishly over to the piano in the far corner and delicately touched one of the cold, smooth keys, almost expecting it to melt beneath her fingertips. When it didn't, she sat down at the bench and considered it safe for her to play. “Let’s begin.”

—

The scaly blisters that are bristled across Joan’s back prickle painfully against her shirt. She wanted to scratch them so badly, but she knew her nails would sink in like a heated knife in butter the second she barely brushed the bumpy skin. It would be a mess of pus and blood that she wouldn’t be able to hide since she was wearing a simple white tank top (she couldn’t bear to have anything touching her shoulders, and white did reflect sunlight, so she thought it would be fine). So, she just had to grin and bear it.

But she couldn’t even fucking grin! Smiling pulled the dry skin around her mouth taut, to the point where it felt like it was cracking and flaking off. She was constantly licking her lips because of this, which set off tiny flames in them each time she did so (and didn’t help at all, mind you).

What’s worse- she felt something welling up within her. It was an uncomfortable sort of sensation like someone had released thousands of fire ants inside of her. It took her so long to realize that this was how she usually felt with a fever because of how hot she already was.

Joan blinked her eyes quickly, suddenly feeling very dizzy. She stared down at her hands resting on the piano keys and thought she saw light grey smoke hissing from underneath her fingertips. She gingerly raised her fingers and saw no damage- she must have just imagined it.

She sighed and scratched her itchy knuckles. A new stinging pain shivered through her tendons at this stupid decision, like thick, globby fire leeches were suckered on her skin and dissolving it into a soupy, gory mess. She squirmed awkwardly in her seat at its oppressive tingling and tried to keep her eyes open, but it felt as if a talon of fire was pressing into the socket, so she had no choice but to squeeze them shut. Sweat beads on her brow from the exertion of her simply trying to ward off the unwanted sensation and right as she thought she started to feel a little better...

Blinding pain.

“Hey, are we gonna get to my song or what?” Cleves had been saying loudly. “I’ve wanted to try out this new move-” And then she slapped Joan’s shoulder in a friendly way.

But it came off as a lot less friendly to Joan.

Flames burst through that shoulder, sprinting fast across her rash and setting the scales ablaze with fresh agony. It welled up in her throat like she was about to vomit molten lava and clouded her eyes with smoky hazes that usually came with near-unconsciousness. Her teeth dug into her chapped lips, cracking them with the pressure, but she wasn’t able to hold back a yelp.

“What the FUCK?!” She cried. She was half expecting fire to come out when she spoke, but no trace of flames appeared in her mouth. They remained deep inside the furnace that was her scorched body.

Cleves grimaced, although there was still amusement glinting in her eyes. She lifted her hand, and a comically pale print was momentarily left on Joan’s bright red shoulder before being devoured by the sunburn. It securely plated its blisters and scales back over the mark, spreading like a crimson wildfire until it was inflamed and itchy once again.

“Whoops- sorry!” Cleves said. She was genuinely apologetic, but it seemed worthless because she was still laughing about what she did.

“Are you- mmmmm.” Joan gave up on arguing, instead of turning to a much better option- grumbling like a teenage fire dragon that just got part of its hoard confiscated by its parent fire dragons for accidentally eating one of the sheep that was supposed to be saved for the fire dragon dinner.

(She didn’t like being a fire dragon. If she were ever to draw Killer Frost as a fire dragon, she knew it would throw a fit or come out of the sketchbook and strangle her with its bare claws.)

“It’s—fine. It’s fine!” Joan finally snapped. She glared down at the piano, not wanting to see everyone else’s expressions. She knew that would be finding this funny, and that made her want to shove hot coals up all of their noses until it turned their faces into a charred, tarry goop and they couldn’t smile or smirk or laugh anymore. “Let’s just move on!”

Her voice was coming out too loud. It was biting, but not in a cold way. It came out in a smooth, warm, sunny way that nobody could take seriously. They saw her as a baby sheep that was trying to bleat at a butterfly in its flower patch.

But she just saw herself as a sheep with its wool on fire.

Smothering, encompassing, suffocating, asphyxiating- the white-gold flames press in on her. She’s a ball of fire, fleece ablaze, hooves smoldered, horns like pillars of pyre. She opens her mouth to scream, and flames come pouring out. Her insides are bloated with smoke and ash, charred and singed, and she can taste their tarry remains on the sediments of her shriveled, black tongue. When she hooked her nails in her neck and tore open holes, thick streams of smog so grey they looked black come floating out.

Joan was screaming, clawing, burning two inches away from everyone’s faces, and yet they were blind to the golden inferno embracing her body.

( “They think it’s funny,” Killer Frost would probably say if it weren’t hidden beneath the hellfire consuming Joan’s entire being. “They think it’s just a little sunburn. Nothing more. But if it were Kitty that was as red as a fresh apple in spring...”)

Her subconscious’ distant words are drowned out by the overwhelming sound of the incendiary. Torches are sent flaring through her nerves like pinpricks of hot needles before extinguishing enough for her to realize she had been playing the piano throughout that entire conflagration.

Somehow.

Joan breathed out a soft, shaky breath. That feverish feeling reignited itself once again- or maybe it’s always been there, and she just hadn’t noticed. At this point, as her brain was melting inside of her skull, she didn’t know much anymore. She was working purely on muscle memory, but that would soon go, too, as her tendons and nerves and muscles would dry up from the heat and become stiff, fragile, prettified remnants of what they used to be.

She gulped dryly, as there was barely any saliva left in her mouth, and it felt as if she had just swallowed igneous rocks. They landed heavily in her stomach and set the bile into an uncomfortable simmer. She began to worry if the lining would catch fire and burn her from the inside out or melt open holes and douse all her other organs in the boiling acid.

Joan swallowed again, and whatever flaming creature had been trying to crawl its way up her esophagus and out through her mouth raked its claws down her throat on its way back down. Then, she coughed and was surprised to not see a plume of ash come out.

God, she needed water. She needed to get out of these clothes, too. Her legs were nowhere near as bad as her back and shoulders, but her pants were rubbing the scarred flesh uncomfortably raw and she would just prefer to have them off.

Joan bounced her knee, feeling miserable. Her skin was melting off of her bones, her stomach was boiling, she was running a fucking fever, she was somehow shivering, and, good lord, was the heater on or something?!

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Joan stood up, wincing as she felt crackles and flickers and pops go off in her legs. She walked on eggshells on the way to the bathroom after calling a break- if those eggshells were on fire and actually pointy lava rocks.

Right about now, Joan would really prefer actual eggshells because, what the fuck, were the soles of her feet sunburnt, too?!

She careened into the bathroom, clipping her shoulder on the corner wall in the process and sending that smoky haze from before momentarily hissing across her vision. She braced herself up against one of the sinks, pressing her palms down on the smooth, cold granite as hard as she could to soak up the coolness, and glared at her puffy, inflamed, red face in the mirror.

God, no wonder everyone was laughing at her.

She was like a poor immolation to the overpowering pyrolatry. A lamb to the slaughter, a ram to the flames, a ewe to the end of a burning knife-

A piece of charred meat in the mouth of hungry flames.

Joan slowly eased herself back, removing all the weight she had been putting on her hands. It felt as if she were rubbing bituminous coals against her palms, so she turned on the sink and let it run over her hands and fingers and wrists. She carefully dabs some of the cold water on her hot cheeks and sighed softly in content. For just a brief, fleeting moment, the stinging seized and was snuffed out by a torrent of coolness.

That lasted for only a few seconds, though. The water ran warm when it dribbled down the sides of her face, much to her dismay. It was stupid of her to think she could even get a moment of comfort.

As if to prove that, Joan’s back tingles again and, this time, she didn’t care about ignoring it. She reached her arm around and under her tank top and scratched fervently at one of her shoulder blades, hoping to relieve some discomfort.

Her efforts, of course, did the exact opposite.

Joan couldn’t help the startled cry that escaped her lips. She ripped her hand away, and it came back wet and sticky and absolutely dripping with pus and blood.

It was as if her touch was heated- the minute her nails came in contact with her shoulder blade, the flesh peeled back, blisters popped, and fluids came angrily billowing out of the abscess like hundreds of wasps from a destroyed hive.

Joan dissolved into pathetic whimpers as tears came streaming free. They were gasoline on her flaming cheeks- increasing the stinging until it felt like holes were being melted open in the sides of her face, and she frantically squabbled to wipe her eyes. The rough brush against her cheeks agitated the inflamed flesh, and it punishes her foolishness by breaking open and spilling its red tears down her face.

Joan would scream if she could, but the hellfire had her by the throat. So she just wheezed like the scorched furnace she had become and let the liquid fire drool out of gaping, fleshy ventilation systems.

What else could you do when in the mouth of an inferno?

———

Anne will admit that it had been her idea to go to the beach, but in her defense, Kitty made it happen. That’s exactly why she had consulted the girl about her idea because she knew nobody in their house could say no to her. Besides, it was going to be alarmingly hot for a spring day in England, so why stay in a house with no AC when you could go swimming? It was a brilliant plan! And it worked out perfectly! Except for the part where Joan fried like an egg in the sun, of course.

But still, in her defense, Anne had no idea the girl was so sensitive to sunlight! She had seen her put on at least ten layers of sunscreen every thirty minutes! How was she supposed to know she would shrivel up and die?!

Oh, who was she kidding? Not even her internal yelling debate could ease the guilt gnawing away at her.

Joan tagging along with them wasn’t her fault- that blame was shifted onto Kitty and Maggie, who were never a good duo when they got together, when they insisted that the “gang had to stick together”- but she still felt bad when she saw the girl’s awful sunburn. It was funny at first, but then she noticed the permanent grimace plastered on her face and the way she stiffly played the piano like she had lit matches dug into her skin, and the situation became a lot more worrying.

It was clear Joan was on edge and uncomfortable- they all noticed that. They just didn’t think of doing anything. A sunburn wasn’t exactly something you could just pop some pain pills for- it took time to go away and let the skin heal itself of the blemish. So, the others just didn’t pay it any mind (even if it was tough not to gawk at Joan’s firetruck red complexion).

Anne tried to do the same. She told herself there was nothing she could do and she should just laugh about it with everyone else, and she was so close to settling fully into that state of mind.

But then Joan called a sudden break and left the room without a word, and Anne was yanked right out of that belief.

Something was very, very wrong.

Now, believe it or not, despite her (slightly aggravating) stage persona, she knew what boundaries and personal space were. And she knew when to not bother a female. There’s several cases of when you shouldn’t bother a woman: when she’s breastfeeding, when she’s on their period, when she’s pregnant, when she’s being cheated on- but especially when she’s in pain and it was making her aggressive.

It’s, in a weird sort of way, like the time she found a stray cat on her family’s property when she was younger. She had cornered the frightened little thing and it arched its spine and hissed at her to stay back, but she was desperate for a pet, so she grabbed for it anyway. Naturally, she got scratched and that night, as her mother was cleaning the cuts, she was told to never approach a scared, cornered animal. It made them more likely to lash out, but if you wait and let them know you weren’t a threat, then they may calm down. And Anne has used this advice since then, and she still uses it with the queens and ladies in waiting when something is wrong with one of them.

Except right now, though. Because Joan has been in the bathroom for half an hour, now, and absolutely no one was batting an eye. Anne knew the girl was more likely to die and turn into a skeleton before anyone decided they wanted to check on her, so she excused herself from the game of Statues that Maria had started and walked out.

Now, Anne has seen a lot of shocking things in her life: the actual proof of Aragon’s divorce, her first miscarried baby’s withered corpse, Henry’s penis....but the musical’s bright red music director hunched in the bathroom with blood on her shirt and face and hands might take the cake.

In the bright bathroom lights, Joan looked a lot worse than she did in the rehearsal room. She wasn’t just red- she was raw.

The easiest way to explain it is to imagine a human being that just got all its skin peeled off and then was stung by at least two hundred bees in very specific areas. Scarlet stained almost every inch of her body, aside from underneath her jaw, amazingly. The burn was lighter in some places and darker in others, but her shoulders and upper back were by far the worst. There, scarlet faded into rings of dark crimson and blotches of maroon, both of which are spotted with tiny red dots, as if someone had crushed up rubies and sprinkled the shards over her to make the menagerie of sunburnt flesh look less like an eyesore. Paper-thin, translucent strips of varying sizes are frayed around the edges of the bigger blemishes, revealing raw pink hiding underneath.

To put it simply, Joan looked like a scorpion without its exoskeleton.

“Joan!” Anne cried in shock and worry. She leaped towards the girl and immediately picked up on the heat coming off of her. It was like standing too close to an active volcano. “Are you alright?”

Joan looked up in surprise. She had just been swaying there with her hands running under the sink when Anne came in. Anne guessed she was cleaning the angry red patch on her cheek, which was still crusted with blood around the edges.

“I’m— I’m, uhh—”

Anne couldn’t even tell if she was blushing in embarrassment or not, but it didn’t matter. Flustered or not, Joan needed some help.

“Honey, you don’t look so good,” Anne said gently. She reached out to grab Joan’s forearms so she could steady her, but the natural warmth from her hands seemed to set fire to Joan’s arms and she jerked away with a soft hiss. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine,” Joan whispered. She didn’t snap at Anne as she had done to Kitty and Cleves. Perhaps she liked Anne more than them, or perhaps she was just in too much pain to be angry- Anne couldn’t really tell. “I’m sorry— Everyone is waiting for me, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Anne said. “But forget that right now, alright? You look like you’re about to keel over from heatstroke.”

Joan actually managed to laugh weakly, but it quickly broke off into a keen-like noise as pain flitted across her burnt facial features.

“What’s wrong?” Anne asked. “Aside from, you know,” She gestured vaguely.

“I— I don’t know.” Joan whispered. “I-I think I have a fever...”

“Are you sure you’re not just hot from-” She gestured vaguely once more, but this time with a lot more enunciation in her movements.

“N-no, Anne, I’m—” She’s starting to shiver. Joan was fucking shivering. She reached out a hand to lean against the sink counter. “I— I just-” She pressed a hand to her forehead, breathing shallowly.

Anne frowned in worry at the girl’s inability to explain how she felt to her. Whether it was from embarrassment or deliriousness thanks to the pain, she didn’t know, but she had to do something, so she stepped forward and carefully placed her hand on the back of Joan’s forehead.

As expected, it was burning hot. She wished she could have said that it felt a little warmer than a normal sunburn, confirming that Joan did have a fever, but she honestly couldn’t tell. So, she convinced Joan to help her find the thermometer kept in the theater first aid kit so she could take her temperature.

38.8. That was the temperature displayed on the thermometer and Anne worriedly glanced over it to the weary-looking girl sitting in front of her. When she was caught staring, Joan looked up at her with grey eyes and red sockets.

“38.8.” Anne said, showing her. “I think you may have sun poisoning, love.” Joan tensed and Anne quickly went on, “No, no! It’s okay! That means we know how to treat it!”

“W-we do?” Joan stammered nervously.

“Well. I do.” Anne said. “The things I need aren’t here, but I know we have aloe gel at the house. So we’ll get you fixed up in no time!”

Joan didn’t look too happy to have to go over to the queen’s house in her current state, but Anne managed to convince her to ditch rehearsals early so they would at least be alone for the majority of the treatment.

When they arrived, Anne had to point out the elephant in the room- the stained mess on Joan’s back. She had been putting off calling it out, but now they had to do something about it. And she knew Joan was going to hate every second of it.

“Alright, how much do you like this tank top?” Anne asked Joan, who was sitting on the toilet seat in the master bathroom (Jane’s bathroom. It was technically Jane’s bathroom, but Joan didn’t need to know that. They needed space, and it was big, so Anne could take the fit Jane would surely throw when she found out later). “Because if you can’t move your arms, I can cut it off.”

“I think I can get it off myself...” Joan said although she didn’t exactly trust herself to do that.

Still, she grabbed the hem of the tank top, pulled it over her head, and Anne watched in concern as the skin upon her upper back cracked, contracted, and split open in a way that made it seem like the girl was about to sprout wings. It made her own shoulder blades tingle in discomfort.

“Ow.” Joan whispered. She shoulders shudder, flesh-scales bristling and flaking.

“Okay,” Anne started, looking at the gooey scratch fanned open on Joan’s left shoulder blade. It looked like a tiny pool of creamy pus, which was just barely managing to not spill over the edges. “Yeah... You’re not gonna like this part, sweetheart. In fact, you may hate me after it’s over.”

“Why?” Joan squeaked fearfully, but then she watched as Anne pulled a bottle of disinfectant out from under the sink cabinet. Her face went as pale as it possibly could with the sunburn coating it like a second skin. “O-oh.”

“Yeah,” Anne smiled pitifully. She wets a small rag that she hopes Jane doesn’t use to clean her body with (mainly for Joan’s sake). “Ready?”

Joan white knuckles a towel she had grabbed for grounding and nodded shakily. She couldn’t even be embarrassed over being shirtless in front of Anne, as she was too worried over the pain she was about to face.

The cry Joan makes is heartbreaking. It felt as if burning claws were stabbing and stabbing and stabbing Anne’s heart the longer she had to hear it and the longer she had to be the cause of it. But it had to be done and, after a few moments of flushing out the scratch with disinfectant, she pulled the rag back. It’s now covered in a thin film of yellow-white pus and brown blood.

“Now your cheek,” Anne said. She wets the clean side of the rag and gently lifts Joan’s chin. The claws return to her heart when she stares into the girl’s glossy grey eyes. “Take a deep breath, honey.”

She gave Joan a moment, then pressed the rag to the blemish on her cheek. Joan keened sharply and instinctively shook her head, but Anne managed to hold it still enough to clean her face. She could feel hot tears slip down against her fingers and she finished as quickly as she could.

“There,” Anne said. “All done, sweetheart. I’m all done.” She delicately brushed away Joan’s tears. “Shh, shh... You’re okay. You’re okay, Joan...”

“Fuck you,” Joan hissed weakly.

“I deserve that.” Anne laughed slightly. “I’m going to go grab the aloe vera, alright? And a change of clothes for you. I’m sure Kitty’s will fit you.”

She’s gone for maybe five minutes and by the time she returns, the little blonde fireball she left sitting obediently on the toilet seat seemed to look even more miserable: she was hunched slightly, sunburnt flesh-scales bristling in a painful way along her shoulder blades and upper back. Her eyes are slightly glazed over, reminding Anne of the fever she had, and she was starting to shiver again. Anne just hoped it was because she was shirtless in a cold house.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Anne’s hand hovered comically over Joan’s sunburnt knee, then her sunburnt shoulder, then her sunburnt back, and then she decides to just pat her head. It makes Joan look up at her with a weak smile. It reminds Anne of a picture Cathy once sent her of a lamb grinning. “I brought some water if you’re thirsty.” She frowned when Joan shook her head. She watches the girl lean over to the sink counter and bury her head against her folded arms resting there. “Joan? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Joan whispered weakly. “Just a little nauseous.”

Oh dear.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Anne said, worry evident in her voice. “I also brought some ice. You gotta stay dehydrated, so do you think you could at least suck on a piece?”

Joan agrees and slips a chip of ice into her mouth. Before she can return her head to its burrow in her arms, Anne asks her to change into the shorts she brought in, so she sheds her itchy pants and gratefully swaps them for the airier bottoms.

“I’m going to put the gel on your back now, alright?” Anne said. “Then you can lay down in my room. How does that sound?”

Joan just nods weakly.

Anne gives her a warm smile, then dips her fingers into the bottle of aloe vera she had with her and gingerly smears it on Joan’s shoulders.

As gentle as she was, it seemed she just about poked Joan with a hot rod.

Joan yanked away with a yelp, nearly falling off of the toilet seat. Anne pulled back, meeting her eyes with a worried glance.

“Sorry. It hurts that much?”

“N-no, it—” It definitely hurt that much. Joan just didn’t want to admit it. “J-just warn me next time.”

“Okay.” Anne nodded. “Here goes.”

She put her hand to Joan’s shoulder again, much slower this time. Her fingers barely touch the girl before she’s curling in on herself like a distressed armadillo.

“Hey, sit still,” Anne said.

“I’m trying!” Joan takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, steeling herself best as she can. “Okay, okay. I’m- I’m ready.”

Still, she can’t help but flinch when the next stroke sears a prickling line across her back.

“I’m sorry,” Joan squeaked when Anne pulled back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” She scrambled up to her feet. “I-I should just go. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble-”

“Hey, hey,” Anne tried to grab her forearms, but stopped herself from making contact. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re in pain, Joan. You’re going to flinch.”

“B-but I’m annoying you,” Joan whispered. She lowered her gaze, but Anne slips a finger under her chin and lifts her chin.

“You’re not annoying me, honey.” Anne assured her. “I promise. I want to help you. So can you please sit back down?”

Joan nodded and sat back down. Anne didn’t miss the fresh glimmer in her eyes and she couldn’t help but feel so bad about how insecure and nervous the poor girl was.

“Ready, sweetheart? I’m going to start now.”

Joan’s muscles tensed up as soon as the touch came. The balm stings on her skin and in her nose- a sharp, airy scent of aloe. She bites down on her shredded, raw lip, trying hard to stop herself from whining, but a few pathetic sounds still escape her.

“One part done,” Anne said, her voice as soft as her fingers.

Joan just makes a noise through clenched teeth, pressing her face back into her folded arms. Anne’s touch is light, barely there over the biting of the salve. Every now and then, she stops to take more from the bottle, always muttering a quick warning before she continues. She’s going slow, steadily rubbing small circles all over Joan’s shoulder blades. The weird minty chill numbs the skin wherever her hands glide, to and fro, covering every inch.

“I’m almost done with this part, sweet girl,” Anne cooed. “You’re doing so good.”

Beneath her hands, Joan’s flesh was rough and bumpy. It was like rubbing lotion on the back of a horny toad lizard. It was so hot, too, like a piece of the sun was permanently burning inside of the poor girl. Luckily, the aloe vera seemed to soothe the cinders billowing about Joan’s body. The flames licking through her would flicker their way over to the cold, wet barrier and slow down, prodding the goop in a disgruntled manner. And then, they’re smothered by a glob of sharp-scented aloe, wisps and embers flying out in shock before they, too, are put out.

Anne moves to Joan’s legs next, then her arms, and then her neck and ears. Finally, she began to smear the gel onto Joan’s face, hearing her sigh softly in relief as she did so.

“All done,” Anne smiled. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

Joan was definitely blushing- Anne could tell just by the way she hunched her shoulders around her neck and looked away shyly.

“Come on. Put this tank top on and then you can lay down. Or you can stay up. Wanna watch a movie?”

Joan nodded. She stood up and her nose wrinkled. She was basically wearing a full body suit of aloe vera.

“I feel slimy.” She said. “Like a snail.”

Anne laughed. Her heart melted at how adorable the girl before her was.

“You are too cute,” She said. “Come on. Put the shirt on.” She tossed a basic pink tank top to Joan, who quickly pulled it on. She saw the fabric cling to the aloe vera almost instantly and Joan’s nose wrinkled once again. “Yeah, it’s gonna do that.”

After quickly cleaning up, Anne led Joan to her bedroom. Joan was hesitant to get into the bed, but Anne assured her that a little aloe rubbing off on the sheets wasn’t going to bother her, so she clambered in after the queen. They end up deciding to watch The Princess and The Frog right as the front door opened and closed from downstairs and several voices filled the house.

Anne expected Joan to get nervous or say she should leave, but, instead, the girl just scoots a little closer to Anne, who leans away in fear of hurting her burns. Joan seems offended.

“It’s gonna hurt if I touch you.” Anne reminded her.

“I don’t care,” Joan grumbled. Her fever and exhaustion was making her adorably grumpy. “Please just hold me...”

Anne’s heart fluttered- she couldn’t say no to those eyes!

As expected, Joan hissed when Anne put her arms around her and pulled her close to her, but then she sighed softly and rested her head against the queen’s chest.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “For helping me. I didn’t think anyone...”

“It’s no problem, Joan.” Anne quickly cut off her nervous comment. “I care about you.”

“...I like being cared for.”

Anne glanced worriedly down at the top of the frizzy blonde head resting on her chest. She pulled Joan even closer and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“You deserve it, Joan.” She said. “You deserve care and so much more. Never forget that.”

“Stop it,” Joan whined weakly. “You’re gonna make me cry on you...”

“Cry, sweetheart. It’s alright.” Anne said. “It’s not going to change what I think.”

“Thank you,” Joan choked out through whimpers. “Thank you so much...”

“No need to thank me,” Anne said. “Besides. You have my robe. It’s official. You’re, like, mine, now.”

“Your what?” Joan looked up at Anne timidly.

Anne shrugged. “Niece? Goddaughter? Granddaughter? Robe stealer?” She kissed Joan’s forehead, making her smile shyly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I like all of those options,” Joan whispered, tucking her head back under Anne’s chin. “But I...I want to be your-”

“Annie!!”

Anne’s bedroom door swung open and Joan lurched away from Anne. She sat up straight, still, staring at the TV as young Tiana goes running out of her bedroom after a frog croaks at her. She doesn’t want to see whatever expression Kitty has on her face.

“What’s up, Kit?” Anne said cooly.

“Oh, I was just wondering where you were,” Kitty said, then glanced at Joan skeptically. Her nose twitched a little, but she quickly turned back to her cousin. “Cathy is cooking tonight. She wants to know if you still want to learn how to make that really good soup she made?”

Anne saw Joan’s shoulders droop just slightly. She quickly makes up her mind.

“Maybe some other time,” She said. “Call me when it’s ready, alright?”

Kitty blinked. She glanced at Joan one more time.

“Alright.”

Then, she’s gone. Joan still doesn’t move, so Anne has to ease her back into her arms, now stroking her hair soothingly.

“I could have left,” Joan whispered.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Anne reprimanded. “I want you to stay right here with me.”

Where you belong.

Joan swallowed a lump of emotion rising in her throat and nodded. She nuzzled closer to Anne, not caring about how it agitated the burnt skin on her nose.

“Thank you,” She mumbled. “I-I...”

“Shh...” Anne soothed her. “It’s okay, sweet girl. No need to thank me or anything. Just relax, okay? If you’re tired, sleep. I’ll be right here.”

Joan felt heat bubble up inside of her, but this time she knew it wasn’t from the sunburn or the fever, rather the heat came from the giddy blush that glows a refreshing pink along her flesh-scales.

“I’m... I’m glad.”