#i love how so far the sentiment is “its gonna suck i hate going against them but it is gonna be fun”

[ratatatastic]

welcome to the highly anticipated response to "chip it into forsy's corner" that is "chucky's a funny guy 😊😊 (refuses to elaborate whatsoever)"

this just in kitties (reino) excited to get the nuclear codes turned on them because they are freaks more news at 11

[strogoff-era]

Why I also love Lt Graham Gore : aka me talking about my fav for far too long

This post is a companion of @earthshine-moon's post about Graham Gore ! Very good post, go read it ! Also we focus on different scenes so i think our posts are complementary

First, i just want to come back to the sleigh pulling scene. Many people hc Gore to be friend with Goodsir, and this is a very good hc. However, I dont think they're meant to be in the canon. They feel like they haven't interacted much before. And that makes Gore even nicer !! He didn't have to listen to Goodsir talk that much during the walk. He doesn't know that dude ! He could have told him to shut up but he didn't !

Also his behavior in that scene is very stricking to me not only because this is the first time we have a focus on him, but also because of the contrast with his previous scenes.

When Gore is around Franklin or Fitzjames, he is so much more serious. I think this is both professionalism and "my boss sucks ://". But when he is the highest ranking and has to take care of a group, he is thriving.

(the rest under the cut, bc im nice to your dash)

Expanding a bit on Gore's sentiment toward his superiors : Gore is very attentionate toward the crew. You can totally see it with his interaction with Goodsir, but also by how relaxed his sleigh team seems around him.

There is also the diving scene. Graham is not the focus, but he is there with Dundy and Des Voeux. (Btw, i absolutely love how Des Voeux is the lieutenants' intern. They bring him everywhere and he hates it. Just look at him during this scene, he's hilarious). When Collins asks for a surgeon and Franklin & Fitzjames refuse, you can see him frown and look at James. He knows he can't say anything but he clearly disagree. If Collins needs the reassurance of a surgeon, why not bring one ? It isn't too much to ask ? And when he leaves, you can also see he's pissed about this.

It's also in this scene where he does the adorable Nintendogs™ head tilt. I need a gif of it so bad.

Another scene I want to talk about is not actually in the show, but we have it in the script. You remember that scene where Irving shouts at Manson for being scared in the hold and Hickey goes to help him ? In the first version, it was Dundy in Irving's place and Gore in Hickey's. We were robbed !!! I couldn't find the right extract in the script and the link I found doesn't work but here is a post with a proof. I owe my life to anyone who will send me the full script of that scene.

It's hard to determine what the scene is meant to convey since I haven't read it in its context. But Gore is not afraid to call out another lieutenant in front of the men if he thinks he was in the wrong.

Also, I think "Title's no substitute to for common sense" explains his disagreement with Franklin and Fitzjames. Just because there is a power difference between you and someone doesn't mean you should take advantage of it. Had Gore survived past episode 2, I think this sentence would have summed up his decision making.

This post already took too long to write so I'm gonna end it with a bullet list of all the cool things I couldn't include :

When Des Voeux is disrespectful of the Netsilik, Gore disagrees with him. Many acting details I quoted in this post aren't in the script, but Gore being against Des Voeux on this is clearly written.

Also in the script, Gore is described as Sir John's "favorite son". Some food for the "lieutenants and their captain have a family dynamic" lovers ! But also a really good ground for Little-Gore parallels that could be great to explore in fics !

Historical Graham Gore also comes from a naval family and made his debut on his father's boat :)

Actually Sir John and Gore's relationship lives rent free in my head. Sir John loves him but not enough to write an eulogy for him, instead rambling about Jacob's Ladder for minutes before dropping his lieutenant's name right at the end. Nothing is about Gore in this speech, we learn nothing about him. I don't think this was on purpose, Sir John is just like that. But that raises the question whether he liked the Lieutenant or the man wearing that title

Both Sir John and Crozier calls him Graham btw

Historical Crozier and Graham had already met before ! Crozier was a mate on Graham's dad's ship, the one where Graham made his debut on the sea ! :D Graham was 11 at that time. Please make this fact into a Terror hc, it is very cute

Another historical fact that should become fanon : Graham played the flute

And finally, the most important fact about the Lieutenant Graham Gore : In the script, Jacko was supposed to go in his arms instead of Irving. Monkey likes him

[numberonenarinderhater]

Why i made this stupid blog

First, I have NOTHING against what people do in a fandom. I do NOT care if you ship narilamb or whatever the fuck you do with your blorbos. I do not ship it and I don't engage with that content but I'm not here to mock creators' hard work or demand they make me understand why they make it.

I don't like Narinder because of things I felt the game and the canonical material didn't do (or didn't do very well).

Make no fucking mistake tho. I am a hater. I am here to be a hater on the hater website. HOWEVER!! I'm not gonna reblog anyone's posts to bitch about why i don't like it or talk smack about any specific person. I have no intention of targeting anyone in specific or harassing creators. I might complain about what I see as generally held ideas in fandom but none of it is meant to be personal or even a criticism of anything's quality.

For context:

I didn't hate him at first but I was super disappointed that he wasn't, y'know, a wolf. But what the fuck do I know.

I have only briefly played the game on single-player mode. For the most part, my partner and I play a co-op file together (on the Nintendo switch).

I understand that the game started as a very humble project and that there might still be added content in the future. Any criticisms I have of the story so far are just that, criticism of the story so far.

I like the other bishops!! I think they're awesome and they have great characters, flaws and all. I think Narinder is the outlier in terms of writing quality.

Some of my dislike is petty and doesn't stem from anything. Some of it I can support with an actual argument. Again I'm a hater.

Most of my complaints come down to the way he's portrayed in-game. I don't consider headcanons/fanon/fan content to be evidence of his canon personality. (Listen!! I like fanfic and I support artists' license to reinterpret things, but that's not rly what I'm here to bitch and moan about)

I understand that characters have flaws. I'm not an idiot, I promise. But I'm also not required to find characters endearing.

I am willing to hear people out!! But don't hold your breath. I am, after all, a hater.

Why I think he sucks:

The way he attacks his siblings didn't feel like a "crime of passion", so to speak. It feels deliberate, cruel, and calculated- more in line with the image of a cold-blooded sadist than someone who has been deeply hurt and betrayed and is lashing out. He finds amusement in what he's done to them and the game never indicates that he has any regrets about it. (Or, at least, I can't find any textual evidence suggesting that ever did)

When he becomes a follower with higher loyalty, the little things he says to Lamb don't come off as cute to me, they come off as creepy. The devs seemed to have removed special follower missions from Narinder and replaced them with generic dialogue instead. For... whatever reason, some of the things Narinder says include things along the lines of "I love you" or "How's your day going?" It doesn't come off as cute to me and it only succeeds in making him seem creepy and bland. I would really really like special follower quests to be put back so that he doesn't wander around confessing his feelings for me several times a week like a sad old creep with memory problems.

AFTER YOU DO FINISH RESTORING THE BISHOP'S SEVERED BODY PARTS (THAT HE TORE OFF HIMSELF) HE STILL OFFERS VERY LITTLE. This is what sent me over the fucking edge. The other bishops give you rich, emotionally textured dialogue that really makes you understand why they all did what they did and act how they do. It's great writing!! Narinder's own monologue consists of: a reminder of how he was hurt (AGAIN), deflecting blame/explaining why he won't explain himself (THE ONLY THING I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO HEAR), a vague sentiment about how times goes on (sure man), concluded by: 'here's this relic'. The relic is admittedly pretty cool but its a total failure to characterize him when the game had a chance.

Speaking of failing to characterize him!!! I have no idea what motivates him. What does he want?? Why did he start resurrecting people?? Was he aware that he was threatening his siblings' authority?? Did he care about that?? He never offers his own side of the story and I, for one, refuse to fill in the gaps for him.

He could be really cool????!!!! But he's so boring???!! Again I think this could be slightly improved by putting his follower quests back and making him a more interactive character. As it is now he's a dull follower who does very little.

He is a lot cooler if you do choose to kill him instead of sparing him and making him a follower. At least then he seems to have a complete narrative arc. I don't consider his character on the other story path to be nearly as complete considering he seems to be floating in an uncomfortable space between redemption (something that would require that he apologize even once) and antagonism (something that requires that he be an active presence in his own story which he isn't once he is indoctrinated).

I'm not gonna cinemasins ding Narinder for all the dramatic things that the narrative asks him to do even if it makes him look really bad or stupid. (i.e: why did wait this long to make the last sacrificed lamb into his vessel when he could've started right away, why didn't he just resurrect those lambs considering he can resurrect the player character? why didn't he just amass a huge army of vessels to lead his cult all at once if he needs believers that bad?) At the end of the day, I can overlook it.... BUT the absence of these answers is really felt the more you think about it. As far as the writing on the wall is he is selfish at heart and if he isn't stupid then I guess I have to assume that he's way weaker than he says. laaaammee!!

Small gripe but the game developers seem to really really want the player to spare Narinder and it annoys me. If players do kill Narinder then they get a second chance to spare him from the mystic seller, something that no one else gets afaik. It makes the decision feel much cheaper and less dramatic, as if it didn't really matter the first time and he could have been revived on a whim.

Also speaking of that, the devs really seem to push the idea that Narinder has some kind of feelings for Lamb. It's funny at first but then it just annoys me because it makes me feel like I'm forced to deal with something I didn't ask for. Like I said before, the combination of him thinking mushy thoughts about Lamb and giving generic follower lines like "I love you leader" make him come off as kinda pathetic if you don't choose to pursue him as a spouse. Like man... I'm just not into you like that.

I'm sorry but he really did need to be a wolf. Am I the only one thinking this?? C'mon.

That's probably not the extent of it but this is what comes to mind. Sorry for the long ass post but no one else seems to share my opinion. That's a big reason why I made this blog, just to see if anyone else agrees or if there's something I have just SEVERELY misunderstood. If you wanna dog on me or explain then feel free to send an ask.

Praise the Lamb. Glory to the Goat. Fuck that fallen bastard.

[quodekash]

Why The Entire Harry Potter Epilogue Sucks

most of this has definitely already been said before but I have Thoughts™️ and I need to get them all out in one place. also warning this is very long because my thoughts are big and i talk too much 

first, the overall problems (and everything im gonna talk about is the author’s fault cos she wrote it, but this part is more directly her fault so this section could also just be called Me Hating A Bigot): 

Why did she make them all end up with their high school sweethearts? just to satisfy the shippers? i mean i dont entirely hate it that much, like its fine, book hinny actually have chemistry and i can imagine book romione going through a lot of bumps in their relationship but smoothing it out and figuring it out after a few years. and yeah they’ve all been through a lot together, and that creates a really tight bond between two or more people, but the point still stands. (my point being: high school relationships are stupid and pointless. (if you want to debate me on this, go ahead. try and change my mind. (this is genuine, i want to hear your reasons and give you my reasons, debates are fun)))

Draco’s wife. Why. Like, i have absolutely nothing against Astoria Greengrass, I’m sure she’s lovely (we never meet her other than like maybe in Cursed Child at some point? but i read that once and am electing to ignore it forever so lets imagine i never said that). it’s not even a problem with how the author made him marry a woman even tho he’s very much a gay man, it’s the problem that he didn’t get the redemption he very much deserved. he had like two or three shining moments. and even then they weren’t so much shining, more... glistening like sweat. but she couldve tried so much harder with him. she wouldnt even have to change the plot of the books at all. just make him marry... not a pureblood. dont make this character have to continue the legacy of purebredness that he almost definitely despises. instead, let him marry a muggle. or a muggleborn. or a half-blood chosen one who defeated the dark lord with draco’s own wand. or just anyone that isnt a pureblood, cos we dont know much about it, but we can only assume that it was an arranged marriage and neither of them actually wanted it, they were just doing it for the sake of their families. which sucks. and also all the purebloods are already related so just... dont make the incest continue, no one wants it. 

the names of the kids... i dont like it. well, most of it. naming your kids after your dead parents? that’s fine. it could be a little confusing at times, but they’re nice names and its sentimental. and james’ middle name? i have no problem with it. james sirius potter is a perfect naming choice. definitely not a PREfect naming choice, but absolutely a PERfect naming choice.  -and lily luna potter has a ring to it. and i know luna is important, and i know we love luna. but it couldn’t have been like... lily molly potter, so that ginny’s side of the family could be part of it? it couldn’t have been lily minerva potter, to honour the greatest character of the series? it couldn’t have been... other names i cant think of that wouldve been better than lily luna? but overall i dont hate the name lily luna that much, i can deal with it. -as for hugo and rose, as far as i know they dont have middle names? but i just want to know where the names come from. were they just names that they picked out that Felt Right? cos if so i have absolutely no problems with that. it may be that theyre hermione’s parents names? (speaking of which did she ever get to take them back from australia? adding on to that, did her parents know they were from britain when she erased their memories? cos i highly doubt they wouldve magically gotten aussie accents and their voices wouldve stood out pretty clearly, so would they just be Very British but think they’re perfect bogans and never understand why people look at them funny?) But i dont think it is cos ive always assumed that hermione’s mums name is jean cos it’s hermione’s middle name. also i did some extensive research (*cough* a quick google search *cough*) and the name Rose means flower, femininity, that kind of thing, which is sweet, and Hugo means mind or intellect or something like that, which reflects hermione being smart. so those make sense. -but then we get to albus severus. i love the character, he is pure and must be protected. however, the name... no. harry decided to name his kid (the middle child, aka literally the most overlooked one, so there’s the neglected feelings that generally come from being a middle child there already) after two dead guys. “but egg”, you may be thinking, “james sirius was named after two dead guys, too.” Ah, very astute, dear reader, but you’re missing two crucial pieces of information: james and sirius were excellent people who positively affected harry’s life in a lot of ways. Albus and Severus, on the other hand, were people who: emotionally manipulated him, abused him, hated him, raised him as a pig for slaughter, one of them killed the other, and they were both old and sad cos their loved one is gone forever. great idea to name your kid after that. so smart, hazza. absolutely genius. 

“19 years later” means, if you do the maths, the epilogue is set in 2016. surely some things would change. like, would they still use a steam engine train? would there be too many people (gotta love overpopulation), so would the place to get on the train (or whatever mode of transport it would be by then) change to fit everyone? why don’t we see queer couples in the background? why isnt there any mention of phones? i just- i have questions, okay? i mean, i guess the book came out 9 years before 2016. but some of these things were still in play in 2007 and it feels like pollution and overpopulation and queer people and smartphones just dont exist i guess. 

this is a very small one but i would also like to know how draco and harry and ron all happened to have a child go to school in the same year. like yeah, it happens, but sometimes its like a year or two apart. but nope, they all must’ve f***ed their wives on the same night i guess (i know that’s not how it works, but STILL) 

related to the point about it being 2016, but there wasn’t any deamus???? just a tiny mention would’ve been fine. just so that queer readers dont feel so alone. so that queer readers can feel like they’re actually part of this world, that they can feel included and loved, which are the major themes of the series. all we wouldve needed is “Harry saw Dean and Seamus, holding hands and waving goodbye to a little crying girl leaning out of the train window. Seamus tried to conjure a handkerchief to clean her face, but it set itself on fire as soon as he tried, and the girl laughed through her tears.” Or even just that first sentence wouldve been okay. or even a third or fourth sentence where dean sighs into his hand to hide his smile, shaking his head, and either stamps out the fire with his foot or uses aguamenti to put it out but misses and Seamus frowns at him as droplets of water fall down his face and cling to his eyelashes and dean smiles lovingly and kneels down to mock dean’s height and uses the end of his sleeve to wipe off the water and their daughter is laughing really joyously and the train starts to take off but she’s still laughing and smiling and she waves at her weirdo dads until she cant see them again and im sorry im getting carried away, basically what im trying to say here is just one sentence wouldve been all we needed just to feel included 

ron being an auror makes sense i dont mind that. 

but hermione. why is she in magical law enforcement. i know she cares about justice, but she absolutely would not enjoy sitting behind a desk, she would rather being there, out in the world, helping others because she can, not because it’s her job. she should be a teacher, whether at a muggle school or magical school, i dont flipping care, but she enjoys sharing her knowledge with harry and ron and literally everyone, and that’s what a teacher does. plus, she really looks up to mcgonagall, so you’d think she’d want to be like her: a teacher. and hermione LITERALLY SAYS, out loud, in the books, to rufus scrimgeour, that she doesn’t want a job at the ministry, “i want to make some good in the world”, but then that is just scrapped, never thought about again, and she becomes the flipping minister. she couldve even been an auror, she wouldve been a BOSS at figuring out the target’s next move and how to fight them and bring justice (and i am aware it sounds like im describing her as a batman-like superhero, i dont care, MAYBE HERMIONE IS BATMAN, OKAY?), and working with ron, they would’ve been UNSTOPPABLE. hermione couldve worked at flipin flourish and blotts, she could’ve become the new librarian at hogwarts. i know neither of those are making good in the world, but she wouldve been surrounded by books ALL DAY. honestly she couldve worked with dragons with charlie in romania and it still wouldve been better than stuck behind a desk at the ministry 

i love ginny as a quidditch player, that one is excellent and perfect and i cant think of anything better. 

like. lupin was great. but harry taught a whole bunch of teenagers - at the same time - to conjure patronuses within a couple of lessons, when it took lupin months to teach harry. (granted, harry was depressed and was both trying to learn the charm and going against a boggart-dementor, so they’re both impressive, but still)

he taught them heaps of spells he’d only learnt the previous year while practicing for the third task, and only out of books, which is really bloody impressive.

and, again, he could conjure a patronus at thirteen years old, when most wizards cant their entire lives.

and he taught them the only useful thing lockhart (kind of) taught him: expelliarmus.

as for moody’s/barty crouch jr’s classes, we dont know anything about them other than the first one where he did the unforgivable curses on spiders, and that other one where he put the imperious curse on the students. and harry just wouldnt morally do any one of those things so he technically didn’t beat those classes but also he did because harry didn’t perform illegal curses on his students, so. 

idk about quirrel cos i have no clue what he actually taught them (WHAT WAS THE DEAL WITH THAT REPTILE IN THE MOVIES? (was it a lizard? iguana?? i think it was an iguana but idk)), but he literally bested every single one of the teachers he’d previously had for five years in a couple of months. 

also he really enjoyed teaching. he found himself subconsciously planning lessons. he gave them things to improve on, started small and got bigger, gave encouragement, made sure everyone was included, and so many other things i just cant think of right now. and those are all awesome teacher traits. he would’ve loved being a teacher, would’ve loved helping kids reached their full potential.

and thats why he shouldve been a teacher, but heres why he shouldnt have been an auror: hes not invincible. the only person who couldnt kill him at all was voldemort. if voldey had let one of his death eaters step in and cast the spell, harry couldn’t have done anything, he wouldve actually died that time and voldemort wouldve won. and that still applies in the future. and harry’s gonna be fighting dark wizards just about every day. and guess what? he’s the owner of the elder wand. and book harry didnt break it. no no, book harry was sure he’d die a natural death and the wand would lose its power. and im not saying i want harry to die on work, im saying he was pretty reckless because he could get killed by dark wizards (aka people wanting to start their own cult similar to death eaters; death eaters on the run; death eaters put in azkaban who manage to escape; etc etc) on any given day and then they would have the elder wand and it would all turn to sludge.

but also if he couldn’t have taught dada, then surely he couldve at least been a quidditch player like ginny. that would be so much fun. their team would be basically unstoppable, having a bad*ss married couple working together.

just dont have him as an auror, please, im begging you, it doesnt work

and neville being herbology professor is perfect, end of story. 

okay and now specific moments 

some things that bother me are: albus not wanting to be slytherin, and james making fun of him for maybe possibly being sorted in slytherin. like, shouldnt the problems between the houses have been resolved?? it’s been 19 years since the war people, lets finally resolve some conflict here, pick up the pace guys. but not only that, albus’ fear of slytherin and james’ apparent dislike of slytherin tells us that harry hasn’t told them that slytherins can be good and that all the stereotypes of slytherin aren’t true for everyone and kggkfjgkjgkjfgj

harry hears percy talking about broomstick regulations and is glad to not have the excuse to stop and chat. i dont like that. why doesn’t he want to say hi? percy isnt that bad. i know he’s annoying at times but broomstick regulations would be important, and wouldn’t harry be at least slightly interested in it because quidditch and flying??? 

it sounds like ron’s saying he only recently passed his drivers test. he’d had 19 years. why did it take him that long. this one isnt big it just bothers me a little bit 

why did draco nod ‘curtley’? curtley means rude briefly according to google. that doesnt feel right after everything that’s happened. like, harry literally destroyed the darkest wizard of all time, holding what had previously been draco’s wand. surely that makes some kind of connection. and the trio saved dracos life twice in one day, and saving someone’s life is a literal huge deal, it creates this unspoken bond between you. literally the only reason harry ron and hermione are friends is because harry and ron saved hermione’s life. and saving dracos life, someone who, up until then, they hate? and there’s no mention of any kind of bond or unspoken alliance or anything? they just... go on hating each other? and draco didnt sell them out to his family. which basically means draco saved their lives (BEFORE they saved his), so again theres that connection, that bond, where is it? SURELY it wouldnt be a rude nod?? couldn’t it be an awkward smile? a friendly wink (that could have a double meaning *cough*drarry*cough*)? there would sruely be some kind of connection over the 19 years, like i dont believe that they have never met draco’s child before, i dont believe that the trio and draco havent caught up at some point to say thank you or go out for coffee or whatever functional adults do in their daily lives. 

‘dont try to turn them against each other before they’ve even started school.’ YES GOOD EXCELLENT GOOD JOB HERMIONE- ‘dont get too friendly with him tho. granddad weasley would never forgive you if u married a pureblood’ nO. do NOT imply that there’s going to be a romance. this is the fault of the author and also of ron. you should almost never ship people in real life (with few exceptions. like jokes with friends. or larry. or if theyre already a couple.), and ESPECIALLY not LITERAL CHILDREN! being an embarrassing parent talking to your teenage child about their crush or significant other? that’s fine. mortifying in the moment for the child, but funny to look back on. implying that your ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD who was probably told about sex and hormones like three weeks ago, is going to MARRY another ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD whom they have NEVER INTERACTED WITH is absolutely NOT FINE. and also DO NOT say that your father is NEVER GOING TO FORGIVE THE CHILD. it might seem funny, but this kind of thing could stick with the child forever and, if their hormones do end up making them fall for this other child in the end, they might be terrified of telling their family and might want to keep any potential relationship a secret and that could eat up at them completely and it could result in repression and depression and a whole bunch of mental health problems that wouldve been avoided if ron had just ✨shut his mouth✨. it wouldve been better to say something like ‘“you’re right, sorry”, said ron. but unable to help himself, he leant down and added in a whisper, “we’re counting on you though, Rosie. the family honour rests on your shoulders. but no pressure.” he stood up, grinning, and winked at his daughter.’ 

i have no problems with teddy and victoire. nor do i have any problems with james’ reaction. nor do i have any problems with what the adults say and what the children say in response to that, i actually like this part. 

‘he checked the battered old watch that had once been fabian prewett’s’ IMOKAYIMFINEYOURECRYINGNOTMEHAHA 

why is it that both with james and albus, their mother kisses them and their father hugs them? why didn’t ginny get a hug? why couldn’t harry kiss his sons goodbye? bloody stereotypes and raising boys as people who cant show emotion and affection and not letting fathers be intimate with their sons because showing compassion isnt “manly”. it makes me angry. 

yOu WeRe NaMeD aFtEr TwO hEaDmAsTeRs AnD oNe oF tHeM wAs A sLyThEriN aNd hE wAs BrAvE HARRY I LOVE YOU BUT THATS NOT WHAT ALBUS NEEDED IN THAT MOMENT. he doesnt care about these dead dudes he’s named after. he doesn’t need to know that slytherins can be brave sometimes like a gryffindor. he doesn’t need to know only one example of a slytherin being a “good person”, especially not when it’s an abusive person who is a terrible example in this situation. what albus needs is reassurance. comfort. “albus, whoever you are and whatever house youre put in, we will still love you and support you. slytherin house is not inherently bad. none of the houses are inherently good or bad. people arent inherently good or bad. it’s almost impossible to fit someone into a box of “good person” or “bad person”, because people are complex. there are always reasons behind our actions. and those are only things that are good or bad. our decisions make us who we are.” thats so much better than a couple of sentences of 'i mean you can choose i guess. cos obviously we want you in gryffindor. but like it doesnt really matter. not that much. also youre named after a manipulative gryffindor and an abusive slytherin so have fun with that, k bye see you at christmas’ 

basically the author sucks and i need to sleep more

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

[ratanslily]

Irreplaceable

pairing: bryce lahela x f!mc (Dr. Theia Valentine)

genre: angst but with happy ending.

about the fic: im just giving bryce's premium scene some closure ♡

inspo: this post by @ofpixelsandscribbles

a/n: I've never written for my mc before oof i hope i did her justice!! honestly this fic was so rushed (like all my fics lmao, i write on impulse, not meticulous planning and its a self indulgent fics so i dont rlly expect people to read because i kinds wrote it for my own sanity)

"We should do this much, much more often"

"Agreed."

Bryce looked around the on-call room. So much changed, the beds, the technology,  the lights... and maybe them. or maybe he was the one who changed.

Theia smiled and took his hand in his, beckoning him to accompany him back to the party. He slowly removed her hand away from his and took a step back. his face grew serious as he said,

"its.. probably not a good idea"

"why?"

"its just.. I don't know.. just go ahead, without me, I dont want to draw attention to us."

Theia could tell there was much more to Bryce's strange behaviour. Ever since they started their third year, she could see something was wrong with him, something was troubling him. but when they'd get intimate, all worries would go away and he'd get back to his normal self.

so what happened?

"so it's all a game to you, isn't it?"

"wh-what?"

"you don't need me.. you just want me to satisfy your needs"

"liste-"

"No, Dr. Lahela.  listen to me.", Theia raised her voice as her eyes started glistening with fresh tears.

"was it all a game to you? I thought we had something special.. something unique.. something homely.. when you dropped your fries just to kiss me..when you comforted within these same 4 walls, when we longed to feel each other when I was sick, when you walked me home after the funeral.. I guess I was a fool, I was just a distraction to you, wasn't it?"

she turned on her heels and made way to the door. Before her hands could even touch the handle, she felt Bryce's shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Theia.. please. please stay."

"what for?"

as much as she wanted to resist, she turned back to find Bryce on the verge of tears, with a face full of longing for her.

---

Bryce never hated anything more than the sight of Theia in pain. tonight, he made her cry.

He never meant to hurt her. but he always knew this day would come, especially since they started their third ywar of residency. He knew she and him would end up on different paths.

so why try? why grow close, just to fall apart? kiss, just to say goodbye? make memories, just to move on and forget them?

but he fell,  he fell hard for her. against his best wishes. he found himself caring more for her rather than himself. he found her tears as his own. maybe more painful than his own. when he found her alone on the floor, crying all by herself, he couldnt stop himself from comforting her, feeling the same hurt as she did. they grew closer faster than he imagined, but he loved every second of their relationship.

the day he saw Theia behind the glass walls, trying to reach for him, he aligned his hand on hers, with a glass wall between them. he needed her more than ever in that moment. that night, when he sat by her side, close but not close enough, he felt it.

he felt it surging thru his veins.

he felt love.

but he didnt admit it, for the fear of rejection.

he thought of himself as someone who was easily replaceable, someone who was just a second option to others, never the priority.

little did he know, all Theia wanted is, him by her side, no one else. She never thought of him as the second option, but as the only option.

---

Theia softened at the sight of him holding back his tears and silently cursed herself for being the reason behind his tears.

"im sorry for being so loud, but tell me one thing, Bryce. Do you even need me anymore?"

her words struck him right in the heart.

"if you dont have any answer, I'll go. I'll never bother you again.."

He looked right into her eyes, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

As the tears gently rolled down his cheek, he said,

"I need you, Theia. I need you by my side. I need you to be by my side at every moment of my day, not just at fancy rich parties, but by my side when i wake up to find you curled up in the sheets,  when I make coffee for us and you scoff at the amount of sugar i put in our latte, when there's something on my cheek during lunch and you offer to kiss it off. when i have trouble sleeping at nights and you offer to cuddle me until i feel safe. when i hate the movie you pick, and doze off with my head of your shoulder. I would always need you. But.. what if.. one day.. we don't need each other anymore?"

"what if one day.. say when you've completed your third year here and get a job in a place far away, away from me, away from us. what if there's no "us" anymore? what if you find someone better? what if one day, i end up badly heartbroken, if you ever do so? better keep my distance to lessen the pain, isnt it? Im replaceable, after all."

She couldn't believe the words he said, the feelings he was going through. She felt more horrible than ever for lashing out at him when he felt all of this.

She held his hand, and guided him to one of the beds.  they sat down together,  with her head on his shoulders. Tonight, roles were reversed, she was the one comforting him.

"I didn't know you felt all of this, and im sorry that I misjudged your behaviour."

she rubbed his arms, soothingly and continued,

"I dont know how to tell you this, but i can never go away from you, ever. for physically we may be apart but emotionally and mentally,  i find my home and my residence in your heart. I just-"

she took a deep breath.

"I just love you so much. I dont want you to drift apart from me. and from us. I maybe  a doctor and such sentimental stuff may sound crazy, coming outta my mouth but, I just want to make one thing clear."

she carefully removed her head from his shoulders and turned to look at him.

"Dr. Bryce Lahela, your name is engraved in my every heartbeat. Other people may try to change it, but I know they're gonna fail, as I don't love anyone else apart from you. Do i make this clear?"

Bryce's lips curled into his classic beautiful smile as he started to speak, but Theia cut him off.

"and you better not call yourself replaceable next time, or im gonna punch you so hard."

she playfully punched him, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Now, now Valentine, would you give me the mic to talk?"

She nodded and he continued.

"I don't think I expected a love confession to be in the very room we hooked up, ans honestly its kind of iconic, though i expected a few roses and all that glam..."

".. but you're enough to make my heart leap with joy. No roses needed, no chocolates required."

he took a moment to choose his words,

"I may be good at giving prep talks and all that stuff, but wow, I suck at this. Its probably cause i never did this before.. so let me get to it.. I love you too, Theia."

Theia crashed her lips into his for a fulfilling kiss as they both shared tears of joy,  finally confessing their love after 2 years of pure longing and messing around.

"Whew, who thought these simple 4-5 words would be so hard to say?"

She simply nodded as she wrapped her hands around his for those precious moments of bliss and joy.

yes, the walls, the beds, the room and the infrastructure around them changed, but they were still the same 2 people as from before,  with the same love and feelings in their heart.

and no amount of change could ever change that.

[shadowdianne]

Well, while I mourn for my defunct inbox I'm just gonna copypaste this thing I did for @emettkaysworld that I think it didn't see the light of day. The archiving of my stories is going according to plan -translation for, I'm cursing every other minute while re-coding the titles of the documents. Still unsure of what I'll do with all of it once I'm finished but it's a nice thing to work with in the meantime.

[unedited, blahblah, typos, blahblah]

Everything.

[5x22]

“I’m trapped”

Boots against floor, scuffing the slightly dust-covered wood, nerves tingling, hands reaching. Regina felt the ropes against her neck, the way they tightened with every passing second, the way that slithered over her body as she felt anger, envy, loss. She smiled tightly at Emma as the blonde pursed her lips, not quite answering to her last statement, the lack of space between them hanging above their heads.

How could one answer to her words? Regina felt the choked-up tears clacking together at the back of her throat, circling, and grasping for her vocal cords. She hadn’t expected for Emma to reply to her, to the admission that she wished, sometimes, to be able to do what she had been so good at once: evil. If she would have been selfish enough- if she had said more than what she allowed herself to say- if she chose what she wanted rather than what she thought she did…

And yet, she wished for Emma to say something, to reply to her words with the same fire and anger she herself felt bubbling, threatening to resurface. Anger had been easier, a welcoming friend. The blonde fell silent, however, and Regina had the sudden clarity of the pages of a book still not finished unfolding in front of her: ink and blood and magic pouring over them as she gazed into Emma’s face.

Because she missed their anger, their passion, yet she knew them both better when it came to know that they weren’t alone. The circle that had kept them moving from even longer than she was capable of thinking clearly removed from around their hearts. She had transformed, she had been able to see that much when she had known that she would take Emma’s offer; when the blonde had eyed her with eyes that burned green and the shadow of the woman who hadn’t backed down no matter the snarls, the growls, that came with the territory of the beast, the monster, that had consumed over everything the curse had left on its wake.

“You are a friend.”

It was a sentiment they very rarely shared with each other, but Regina knew it true albeit much more difficult, and complicated, and far-reaching than what the world purposedly meant. She could see the rest of the book now, with her shot a kind of happiness coming from a magical destiny she felt more and more detached from with every day it passed, buried and dead and cold. She had loved Robin, for a spell, in a way. She knew, however, that that didn’t hold a candle to what she would do for the woman in front of her, whose shoulders shagged, and her vision blurred in a similar way that Regina felt her eyes doing. Because they were in New York, yes, and standing in the middle of a home that spoke of broken bonds and cursed tentatives of being something that one was not, but Emma was there, and Regina too, and wasn’t that enough? In a way?

There were other words rather than friend that Regina could eagerly have said instead, but she knew there was no point on her to state them: the promise to someone else had already been given beyond what she or Emma felt. They weren’t like the ones who traipsed outside, free, and untouched by a paper and pen that felt heavy and ticking, like a bomb. They, wanting or not, were something different and Emma had already given something of herself while still holding a candle out for her. Wasn’t that enough?

A voice inside her head screamed that it wasn’t. Her own doubts made her consider the voice, the tone, the way it bespoke -so close to the Queen, to what the Queen had said, and Regina felt dubious of the nature of the Queen herself, of what she should do. Rights and wrong and wrong and right intertwining in a mix that felt very much like a vortex. The kind of one that had sucked Emma in, leaving a breathless, heartbroken, Regina behind.

She had seen then, back in Storybrooke, with a dagger that didn’t bear her name and knees about to give up below her, that she loved the blonde. She had seen with the scream that had followed the realization that she was gone, gone gone, that she would never share it. Because, in the end, hadn’t Emma dug into the vortex with tears on her eyes and a trembling promise, a screamed one, raw and bleeding and open, that she deserved something? Something beyond what she had learned to expect. Wasn’t that enough?

It was, and yet it wasn’t. She could be happy, she knew it. If she so chose to. But she hated the concept of constantly choosing between what she glimpsed and what she had. She always had. She let the blonde woman go from her grasp, her arms swinging back for a second before she caught herself. She was glad of having her, she truly was.

And yet…

The Queen, didn’t she represent what was bad of her psyche? Why then she wanting Emma felt like a force coming from beyond the whispers of a life that wasn’t hers any longer?

Or maybe, just maybe…

“Thanks.” She croaked, and Emma hummed and move away, her fingers sparkling with the promise of a not-shared magic, her warmth leaving the cocoon they had created from the outside world. Enough, she had enough, she felt enough, she wanted enough, she loved enough.

And yet.

[maybe-i-dreamt-u]

Soft sighs and simple smiles

  “I’m sorry. I really am.” She said.

Zuko couldn’t really believe what just happened. Had Mai actually fucking broken up with him? He vision was suddenly very cloudy and he didn’t know if it was because of his headache or the tears pooling in his eyes. He needed to get out of there. Quickly.

He had said something before he left the room. Something along the lines of “sorry I wasn’t enough.” Or “best of luck”, but he wasn’t really sure what. He’s sure he didn’t just storm off without a word, but right now he really couldn’t remember what it is that he said. It’s not like it mattered, anyway.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Zuko was feeling too sick and there were too many tears streaming down his face to properly pay attention to what he was doing. Running away, apparently. At around 3 in the morning the realisation kind of hit him. Fire Lord Zuko, yes, the one who had just had a wonderful meeting with his council not even 12 hours ago, was currently sitting in a train going to Ba Sing Sai, with a big black hood on so people wouldn’t recognize him (and also so they wouldn’t see his red face and puffy eyes). That Fire Lord Zuko had just been dumped and was now heading to his uncle in hope for some comfort and good tea. Though if he thought about it, good tea was comfort.

Zuko felt more dead than alive when he entered the Jasmine Dragon, and he wanted to sleep more than anything else in the world, but he knew he had to at least say hello to the person who had supported and loved him more than anyone else. So he quickly stopped by the kitchen to hug Uncle and thank him for allowing his nephew to come on such short notice, before heading upstairs to his room. As soon as the door was closed behind him, the salty tears returned and Zuko threw himself face down on the bed, wishing he could get a fucking break from life.

 -

 As soon as Iroh had called them, Sokka knew he had to get to Ba Sing Sai as soon as possible. He knew what getting broken up with felt like (thanks, Suki) and he also knew that what his best friend (who he was coincidentally very much in love with, you know, to make tings difficult) needed, was a distraction. Or, in other words, Zuko needed his friends to come over. So Katara and Aang took Appa and collected Sokka and Toph on their way to the Earth Kingdom. They made it to the city in no less than 5 hours.

Sokka hadn’t exactly expected Zuko to be ball of sunshine, but that didn’t prepare him for the sight inside the tea shop. In the far left corner, where light barely made it though the windows, Zuko was sitting alone, drinking a small cup of tea and writing something in a leather journal. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the breakup. His matted hair was slightly covering his face, which was lacking its usual angry expression. Zuko just looked empty. Sokka’s heart broke a little. He hadn’t seen Zuko like this since Azula was put in a mental hospital.

The others didn’t seem to take the sight much better either. Katara looked like she wanted to cry too and Aang had a horrible, pitiful look on his face. And Toph, well… Toph couldn’t see so she was safe for now.

The group approached Zuko slowly and quietly, trying not to startle him, as if he was some wild animal that would run off at the slightest sign of danger. Knowing Zuko and his relationship with emotions, he probably would run off.

As they got closer to his table, Zuko lifted his eyes. He looked more annoyed, than surprised to see them.

“I fucking knew he would tell you” he said in lieu of hello and dropped his gaze back to what he was writing.

“Well hello to you too, Sparky!” Toph punched Zuko’s arm and took a seat next to him. Katara, Aang and Sokka sat down on the other side.

“Hey there, Zuko! How are you?” said Aang cheerly and Zuko answered flatly with

“Fucking great, and you?” Apart from his right hand, he wasn’t moving, but Sokka could see how tense he was.

“Oh, you know, just… Visiting a beautiful city” Everyone fell silent after that. None of them really knew what to say to Zuko when he was like this. Sokka wished he could crack a joke for his best friend, but he suddenly felt at a loss for words. Seeing Zuko so incredibly sad made his heart hurt. He just wanted to hold him tight and never let anything bad happen to him ever again. But that was against the rules, and this wasn’t even about him in the first place, so Sokka shoved that thought away for the time being.

“Look Zuko, we’re just trying to help you.” Katara tried again. Zuko just huffed in response.

“I know you and Mai were very close,” Zuko physically flinched at the mention of his ex-girlfriend, “and I know that you feel rea-“ she continued, but Zuko interrupted with a quiet

“You don’t know shit, ok? Stop acting like you know what’s going on. I appreciate the sentiment, but you really. Really. Don’t have any expertise in this particular domain.” Zuko sounded like he was staring to tear up again. Katara looked hurt, but she thankfully held her mouth. Toph however didn’t.

“I get that you’re hurt n’ all, but you really don’t have to be a bitch. We’re here for you, Sparky, not because we missed Ba Sing Sai so much, so maybe try acting like you appreciate it, and loosen up a bit.” Zuko opened his mouth to say something but Toph was quicker. “And don’t even try to tell me “Oh but I didn’t ask you to come!!” because we both know that you needed us to come and take your mind off things. I mean which one of us looks like they haven’t slept for 48 hours? Exactly. You. Now shut up and get me a cup of jasmine tea, please” She ended with an innocent smile and, for some reason, Zuko actually got up and headed towards the kitchen. Or at least that’s what Sokka thought. In the last moment, instead of going straight ahead, Zuko turned left and vanished in the back room.

“What the fuck, Toph?” Sokka stood up before he could think twice and headed in the same direction. He was going to go upstairs towards Zuko’s room but then he noticed the Fire Lord sitting expressionless in the corner of an empty staff room, knees to his chest, looking out the window. He looked like a little child that had been separated from his mother. Sokka’s heart broke a little more.

“Hey” he announced himself, in case Zuko hadn’t spotted him. His friend didn’t move, but he didn’t tell Sokka to stay away either, so Sokka slowly approached him. He sat down next to him and waited in silence. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Sokka was looking for the right way to tell him that he’s not alone, he’s got his friends and his uncle and yeah, it sucks now, but it’ll get better, you just have to give it some time, and, the Universe knows what to do, and frankly, they didn’t even look that cute together, and it would all be ok. Instead he just said

“You look like you could use a hug.” After a few moments of silence Zuko turned to look at him and asked

“What?” in flattest tone possible, with an impossibly tired look on his face. Sokka just shrugged and went

“I don’t know, you just give me the vibes of a person in need of a hug” he said with a tiny, knowing smile.

Zuko hummed in approval and turned to face him fully. Sokka opened his arms and Zuko slowly leaned into them, carefully placing his forehead on his friend’s chest. Sokka hoped Zuko couldn’t feel his heart beating at 1000mph and concentrated on embracing him in the fiercest hug he could muster. Slowly but surely he felt Zuko relax against his strong body. After a couple of minutes he let out a soft, little, ragged sigh and Sokka thought he might die on the spot.

Though unfortunately after a while Sokka could barely feel his legs anymore and as much as he hated ruining the moment, he said in the softest voice possible

“Bro I’m sorry to interrupt but my legs are absolutely dead, so if we’re gonna keep cuddling you have to let me move a bit”.

“First of all we’re not cuddling, I’m just receiving a comforting hug from my best friend because I feel like I’m going to die alone, and second of all, no.” Sokka felt a smile forming on his face and tried his best not to let it show.

“Ok, well if you want to keep receiving a comforting hug from your best friend, you’re gonna have to move because my legs also feel like they’re going to die alone.” Zuko only huffed at that and then he lifted his head. They changed into a more comfortable position, Sokka leaning his back on the wall, and Zuko’s head under Sokka’s chin, Sokka’s arms around Zuko’s fragile looking body. After he was sure that Zuko had closed his eyes, he texted Aang “we won’t be back for a while, don’t come looking, I’ve got it under control”. He wasn’t sure he actually had it under control, but he couldn’t tell Aang that, could he now?

The two just sat there without speaking. The silence was only occasionally broken by Zuko sighing or sniffing quietly, but nothing more. After about half an hour, just as Sokka was about to fall asleep and have the greatest nap of his existence, Zuko said faintly

“It was so sudden. I never even saw it coming” He said it so quietly that Sokka almost missed it. He starting asking himself if he had only imagined it when Zuko continued. “I know her. I’ve known her for years. And she didn’t act any differently.” That was followed by a sniffle and then, “She just- Fell out of love? I guess? That’s what she said but I don’t even know if I should believe it because she looked so sad, like I was the one breaking up with her. What the fuck is up with that?” He was now fully crying again. Sokka didn’t know what to say. He had never been great at words. So he just squeezed Zuko a little harder. That seemed to work, because Zuko went on, “I know this is gonna sound really dramatic, but I honest to Agni felt like I was dying a slow painful death as she was speaking to me. That feeling died down a bit since then though” Sokka could hear a smile in his voice. Oh the world really isn’t fair, is it?

After that he fell silent again. So they spent the better part of an hour on the floor, Zuko mostly crying, Sokka’s heart breaking, but it seemed to work. A good quarter of an hour after Zuko’s last sigh, Sokka finally spoke again.

“I know that you’re hurting immensely, and that you’d rather just brood in your room right now, but I think maybe it’s time that we go back to the others. I’m sure Katara and Toph have learned their lessons and maybe Aang will even manage to cheer you up. Also, I came here to have tea, and it’s kind of hard to drink any in this position.” Zuko didn’t even seem to hear him, so Sokka nudged his head gently. All he got in response was a simple “not yet”, so he tried again.

“Dude, it’s been like 2 hours…” to which Zuko only mumbled something inaudible. Sokka decided to let it go, but then the Fire Lord stood up, dragging the former with him.

He didn’t look Sokka in the eye as he said “Thanks. I mean it.” And then left the room. Sokka followed shortly after and counted it all as a victory.

[jojoboisimagines]

Johnny Joestar x Reader :: Wait for It :: Chapter 3

Previous chapter. Next chapter

Summary: Gyro is hospitalized, and now Johnny has no one to turn to. That is, until a former female rider shows him a little compassion.

.::.

"Firstly,” Johnny started. “I think I would remember a face like yours. Especially if I so-called ‘ruined’ you.” He paused for a moment, his brows furrowing at a thought. “Unless you're a girl I slept with, then I can’t really do much about that.” There had been plenty of flings the boy had in the past where he couldn't even remember their names or faces, just one detail that stuck out to him. Regardless, this chick wasn't ringing a bell on that front either.

"Tch." You sneered. Of course he didn't remember you. Why would he?

"County race. All the way back in Kentucky."

That statement had sparked his interest. He hadn't met someone from that far back since he left from there.

"I had my horse, Violet. Practically my whole family was there, cheering me on. They thought I was gonna make it big as a horse rider one day. Just if I beat this race...this one race, I'd qualify." Your head was uplifted and your eyes were closed, as if you were there all over again.

.:::.

"Five more minutes until the race starts!" The announcer's voice crackled through the speaker.

People were still gathering in their seats, some just arriving and others getting concessions for their families. Some kid had already dropped their lollipop on the ground from where you could see. It was a good crowd, more than you'd usually see in the races you participated in. You wondered why, but it didn't matter, they were all gonna see you win and be cheering wildly. Thats what you were here for.

You were prepping your horse, mother adamantly by your side making sure everything was in check.

"Do you need me to adjust your saddle? How do your boots feel?" Her questions kept coming one after another. You'd simply nod at whatever she was saying and correct her if she assumed something was wrong. That woman checked everything as if the damn horse would explode with you on it if you weren't careful enough.

"Two minutes!"

After more affirmations from her that you were going to be great, she finally retreated back to the stands. Thank god, you thought. It was finally time to get down to business.

You proudly mounted your horse, riding up to the starting line. Looking to the other side to get a glance at the other racers, you see some younger than you, some older.

It didn't matter, they would all be in your dust soon.

Or maybe that kind of thinking is what led to your downfall.

…

Everything after the race started was a blur, you genuinely can't remember.

'Damn, the other guys pulled ahead way too fast!'

'Please, let me catch up, I have to catch up, I can't lose this!'

Even your horse's hooves trotting across the firm ground became inaudible.

You were falling behind, bad. Way too bad.

By the time the race ended, you were practically numb. How could it have went that badly? You practiced hard, didn't you? You've beaten people who had similar racing styles before, what was different here?

The soundless yet somehow loud blank noise echoing through your brain turned off for a moment, just to hear the results of who had actually won.

"And first prize goes to…Johnny Joestar!"

The crowd went absolutely ballistic over him. They loved him. Your crowd...

You wish the horse exploded instead.

.::.

"Hold on a second, a county race?"

The man's voice brought you back to reality. You had touched the side of your eyes, feeling the wetness from them. Maybe it was better that you stopped there.

"Do you have any idea how long its been since I've been in one of those? What year was that? How old were you?" Johnny's tone somehow sounded both confused and accusatory.

You bristled up at him. Those were the questions he had? "It doesn't matter when, Joestar. Ever since that day, my life has been a living hell."

He sat there, waiting for you to go on. You supposed an explanation why was at least in order.

"No one ever actually believed in me. That was my one chance to prove that I could be better than what people expected of me. And I blew it. My father wanted me to quit horse riding, he was the worst of them all. I had to keep my passion a secret since then. I trained and trained until my knuckles turned white...but I knew I would never get that opportunity again. Horse riding was my life.." The tears finally started trickling down your cheeks. You hated yourself for it. Letting yourself be vulnerable in front of him.

Johnny didn't know how to respond. He could easily go with 'That's your problem, not mine' but he knew what it was like to deal with a shitty father. That just didn't seem... appropriate to respond with right now. Yet he didn't want to utter an apology either. Truth be told, he wasn't sorry. He wasn't sorry about any of the races he had won back then.

"How does that relate to now though? You gonna get revenge on me or what?"

You wiped your tears, giving him a peeved glance. "I'm too mature for "revenge", Johnny Joestar."

A sentiment he wished Diego shared, honestly. He felt a sense of relief when you said that, yet the room was still engulfed in a tense atmosphere.

"Besides, you've already done this to me twice. I...ran away from home to join this stupid Steel Ball Run race, and guess who's dumbass face and name I had to see right at the top rankings?"

Now things were starting to make more sense.

Yet every answer you gave him left him with more questions. "Are you still in the race? How'd you get all the way here?"

"Of course I'm still in the race..Until I eventually decide to forfeit." You face was completely dry now, looking downward with a somber look in your eye. "Of course it doesn't matter who's horse is the fastest in this race, it's all about survival. But I'd rather just...stop while I'm ahead. My parents will be less mad if I come home now than wasting my time with however long this race is gonna last."

Another pause from Johnny. He wanted to convince himself you were being nothing but annoying to him, yet he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for you..

He blinks, not looking you in the eye. It was pretty hard to regardless, considering your eyes were glued to the floor. "You sure you wanna quit?" The Kentuckian asked with genuine curiosity.

You nod.

"Well, with that attitude, you might as well." He added. "This ain't the kind of race you join in for sport. Before you know it you'd be sleeping on rocks wondering how your life got to that point."

You give no response for a minute. You were making this really hard for him.

"Horse riding just isn't for me I guess."

The Joestar bites his lip. You were really trying him without even realizing it. What he was thinking really wasn't a good idea, but his 'to hell with it' side was slowly balancing out.

You turned around, no longer facing him, to go into the restroom and wash your face off.

Your footsteps creak against the floor until he can't take it anymore.

"I'll train you."

"..What?" Slightly turning back, you have a tired but incredulous look on your face, the puffiness of your eyes not making you look any less silly.

"I said I'll train you, alright? The way you said you just can't ride a horse for no reason pissed me off. Not trying to say you suck, but with a little bit of polish, anyone can get better, I'm sure of it." There was a determination in his eye you hadn't seen before. Not when you saw him racing back in Kentucky, or not even when he had won the trophy. Was he seriously offering to do this after all you just said?

You're completely facing him now, nodding almost too excitedly. There's almost a hint of a smile on your face, but you try to force it back with all your might.

"You'd better not change your mind halfway through. We're starting tomorrow after breakfast." He said more so in a commanding way than a supportive one. The man begins to wrap himself under the cover to turn in for the night, before turning his head back to you one more time.

"Hey wait, what's your name again?"

You can't resist the smile this time. It's a bit agitating he doesn't remember, but you cant hold it against him at this point.

"(Y/N) (L/N). It's finally a pleasure to meet you."

[blushnote]

Friends to lover with seok please but the lover part only happened after a drunk angst confession over sex, is it..hard to understand? ;_;

↳ requested | 3.2k

↳ seokmin smut

a/n: no worries, i understood well! i always enjoy writing angst, though i’ve never written any for seokmin. i hope this turned out well! there aren’t any warnings apart from alcohol consumption. 

“where are you going?”

you freeze in your footsteps at the sound of seokmin’s voice. slowly, your hand begins to retreat from its curl around the doorknob, and you swallow the remnants of cheap alcohol that still burns the back of your throat. it’s painstakingly early – at least three in the morning – though you’re nonetheless allured by a series of texts that had lit up your phone screen.

as the device vibrates again in your pocket, you attempt to slip a white lie.

“f-for a walk, it’s really hot in here.”

seokmin notes that you don’t even face him. instead, he looks at your backside, which is somewhat fuzzy in the dim light. he holds an emerald-coloured bottle at his leg. there’s only a small amount remaining at this point, and it marks the third bottle that he’d opened throughout the night. even his kitchen counter is scattered with cans you had eagerly emptied.

“you’re lying to me.” seokmin says bluntly.

despite his intoxicated state, he’s known you long enough to decipher that you can never meet his eyes when you lie. your phone vibrates again, and your teeth plunge deeply into your bottom lip. everything hurts, everything stings. you know you shouldn’t keep doing this, but it’s the bittersweet pain of being with seokmin that drives you to make these unstable decisions.

you don’t reply to him, knowing that your voice might splinter if you speak. instead, you reach again for the handle and begin to pull the door open. however, you don’t get far. seokmin is suddenly behind you, his chest just brushing your back as he pushes the door shut with his hand. you choke down a whimper. even though he’s drunk, he still smells of a crisp citrus.

seokmin’s voice is much quieter now, though his tone is serious.

“you were going to see him again, weren’t you?”

heat scorches across your face like a burning ray of sun. your ex-boyfriend was the whole reason you were at seokmin’s apartment in the first place. you definitely didn’t love him. in fact, there was never even a sentiment of love. the sole reason you engaged in a relationship was due to your own wishful thinking – a hope that you could distract yourself from seokmin.

seokmin had always been a dear friend to you, though you loved him so much that the tendresse you felt could bring wilted flowers back to life. more than anything, you wanted him to know your true heart. but beyond that, you were deeply petrified of rejection, of ruining the beautiful friendship that you two spent years building and nurturing.

“i-it’s not your business,” you croak, squeezing your eyes shut, “just let me leave, seokmin. i want to go o-outside.”

but seokmin has yet to lift his hand from the door.

“how can you expect me to just let you leave? when i know exactly what’s gonna happen? you get hurt again, n’then i have to come pick up the pieces.”

you hate that it’s true. each time your ex manages to coerce you back into his presence, you hardly enjoy any time spent with him. right when things start looking as though they could heal, the situation flips on its head and smoulders into an egregious argument. with no one else to contact, you religiously appear at seokmin’s apartment mat in tears, crying for him to hold you.

his embrace feels like finally coming home after you’ve been away. the second he wraps his arms around you, an essence of calm and solace replaces your erratic emotions. you love when he gently presses your head into the crook of his neck and rubs your scalp. you love when he pulls you onto his lap and unzips your jacket for you, sincerely humming that you’ll be alright.

but then the morning comes and you can’t stay in seokmin’s bed any longer.

you’re just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

“i’ll be fine, seokmin!” you can’t help but snap at him as the alcohol lights a fire in your belly.

at last, you turn around and face seokmin. he takes a step backward, removing his hand from the door. this had been the one occasion where you didn’t change into his soft, checkered flannel just before bed, to which you’d usually admire him as he stood in the washroom with nothing but his sweats on, brushing his teeth while he played upbeat music from his phone.

on this occasion, you came straight to seokmin’s after work. you two spent the whole night drinking, though you were truthfully attempting to numb your senses. it sucks that it didn’t even work. if anything, you’re more flustered, more bubbling with emotion. in fact, the second you lock eyes with seokmin, there’s a light fluttering in your stomach that just won’t go away.

“i’m not trying to stop you to be a dick,” seokmin says, running his hand through his shiny black hair, “i’m stopping you because you’re my friend, and i care about you, i love you.”

he says those words, those precious words, but it’s not the same. it’s only platonic.

“you don’t even mean it…” your lower lip trembles and your hand balls into a fist.

seokmin’s mouth gapes. “what?” he enunciates strongly, taking a step forward. “of course i mean it! i’d do anything to protect you – to stop you from getting hurt. i want to see you happy. i want you to feel good enough about yourself so that you don’t have to go back to him.”

with the back of your hand, you wipe away a tear that began slipping down your cheek, sniffling in a sad, tiny breath as your heart painfully aches. the longer you look at seokmin, the more your desire escalates. another vibration suddenly rumbles from your phone. instead of at long last answering, you silence the device and shove it into a pouch on your jacket.

and then you push all your doubt to the back of your mind.

seokmin drops the emerald bottle in his hand when you cross the space and curl your fingers through his shirt collar, yanking him forward into a kiss. the glass breaks at your side, and a few large shards scatter across the floor; however, neither of you separate. seokmin grabs your waist and pulls you in tighter, slipping his clever, liquored tongue into your mouth.

you moan lowly at the slick sensation, feeling a pleasurable heat ignite between your legs. never have you wanted someone this badly before. seokmin’s hands venture lower, until they’re sliding over the curve of your ass and tightly squeezing. you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to suckle on seokmin’s tongue, tiny mewls sounding at the back of your throat.

he then mumbles against your wet, glimmering lips, “jump.”

seokmin catches the underside of your thighs as you cross your ankles at his back. carefully, he navigates through the broken glass and sits you on the kitchen table, to which he eagerly returns to your mouth, biting down hard on your puffy lip before he soothes the sting with a soft lick from his tongue. you kick off your shoes and they land somewhere far away.

“s-seok,” you murmur breathlessly, plucking at his white shirt, “t-take it off, please.”

he doesn’t oblige at first, rather he spends delighted time kissing your neck, intent on painting the skin with a multitude of dark bruises. when he’s satisfied, seokmin takes the hem of his shirt and hastily whips it over his head, exposing his beautiful amber skin. immediately, you reach for his hard biceps, then slide your hands down his toned, firm stomach.

you can’t stop your hands from roaming his torso, from touching someone as expertly crafted as himself. this is what you’ve always wanted to do. your eyes are shining. you lean forward and begin to pepper quick kisses along his collarbone, your palms rubbing up and down his abdomen. seokmin’s impatience hurries the situation. he starts pulling on your shirt as well.

taking his cue, you sit back and push the jacket off your shoulders, then discard your shirt, feeling the cool air soothe your burning skin. seokmin undoes the clasp of your bra and tosses it aside. immediately, he clutches one breast in his hand and harshly squeezes while his mouth latches onto the latter, suckling the nipple. you lean back, splaying your palms behind you.

“ff-fuck,” you whine sharply, digging one hand through his silk hair, “feels s-sso good.” your head is slightly pounding from the alcohol and heat, but you can’t resist him.

little by little, seokmin begins to drop to his knees, until he’s facing the silver clasp on your jeans. the sight of him between your legs – it makes you dizzy, starry-headed. from his wide, strong shoulders to his disheveled hair and brown eyes, it’s an overwhelming visual that nudges your further toward insanity. the slick is so heavy against your underwear, it’s soaked through.

seokmin undoes the button, and together you wriggle off the fabric until it lays somewhere on the floor, however; you are severely unprepared for when seokmin buries his face between your warm, plush thighs. the abruptness warrants a squeal, which quickly morphs into a moan as you feel his tongue push against your core through the wet fabric.

his cheeks are rosy as he pulls away to make room for his hand. he traces his finger down your underwear, pressing hard against your clit, feeling how it pulses, desperate for stimulation. you whimper as seokmin then begins to massage his fingertip in circles, watching that damp spot expand across the material.

“fuck,” he curses to himself, “so fucking wet. i wanna taste you, honey.”

with his finger still maintaining its circular rhythm, seokmin nuzzles his face in closer and licks at your slit, feeling the arousal soak through onto his tongue. however, he reaches a point where the barrier between his mouth and your pussy is too frustrating, and seokmin grabs the thin garment, ripping them straight off you. at the sound of fabric tearing, you cry out in surprise.

seokmin gets your legs to rest over his shoulders, to which he examines your sweet core with an unbeknownst hunger in his eyes. a shiver slides down your spine as you feel him blow softly against your flesh, and the little hairs on your skin bristle. your leg even twitches.

“look at you,” seokmin hums, his voice deep and smooth, his eyes staring your swollen core up and down, “fucking dripping everywhere, aren’t you, honey?” you can only whine a pathetic response as seokmin places a broad, slow lick from your glistening opening to your clit, to which your fingers plunge instinctually through his ash hair and your heels tighten at his back.

he moans into your flesh, switching between twisting his tongue against your clit and flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue. your hips buck against his face in response. nothing has ever felt so damn good. no matter how many times you imagined this in the shower, or at nighttime, hell – even during the middle of class – the real sensation is incomparable.

“m-more,” you mewl to him, the sweat of your body twinkling in the dull kitchen lighting, “m-make me c-cum seok, please…”

“yeah?” he growls, locking his dark gaze against yours. “you wanna cum after you fucking lied to me? tried to tell me i didn’t actually care about you when you know that’s not true?”

something drops into the pit of your stomach and your mouth goes as dry as chalk.

“seokmin,” you manage, “i—,”

however, you’re robbed of the chance to speak as seokmin presses his mouth overtop your aching bud and starts to lap his tongue vigorously. the act completely steals all the breath from your lungs, leaving you to gasp and cry while seokmin buries his face deeper. his pace is relentless. he won’t stop pleasuring your clit, just sparing you the blissful opportunity to cum.  

you pull up on his scalp as the first wave rolls through your body. the heat powerfully expands, and there’s a sudden slick surge of warmth that you feel between your thighs. seokmin still suckles your throbbing bud in order to work your pleasure for all it’s worth. then, he’s licking strongly at your slit, pushing inside of you even, collecting your abundant taste on his tongue.

your entire frame quivers like a frail flower petal.

“s-shit,” you breathe heavily, your fingers curling through his black hair, “m’so sensitive seok, d-don’t lick too m-much, please…”

“hmm, don’t lick too much?” he replies, flickering his eyes toward your face, “but, honey, i’ve waited so long to taste you. or, is it because you want my cock? is that it? you want my cock inside you, honey? you think i can fuck you open better than your ex?”

the tears sting against their ducts. did seokmin really just say that he’s been waiting to taste you? you believe it’s the alcohol in your system that warps his words. seokmin stands from the floor and grabs his belt buckle. though you just experienced an electrifying high, there’s nothing that could thwart you from being fucked by seokmin. you’re nearly drooling as he undresses.

a familiar fluttering sweeps your abdomen upon seeing seokmin’s length, and unconsciously, you begin to spread your legs wider, feeling the wetness stream once again. you’ve never needed anything so desperately in your entire life. as seokmin stands between your legs, he slowly runs the head of his cock along your soaked core, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

“pl-please, seok,” you whine like an injured animal, a few tears slipping from your eyes and rolling down your enflamed cheeks, “i n-need you ss-so bad. need you to fuck me.”

“not yet,” seokmin denies you, finally breaking his gaze away from the lewd scene between your thighs, “if i fuck you, you’re not going out. not to see him at least.”

you swallow dryly, and try to supress the thought that this moment with seokmin could be nothing more than a one-time ordeal. it pains you to the bone. to have him like this, and then the next day, you’re back to being friends? it would feel like a knife twisting between the ridges of your back. a thick haze of desire and conflict clouds your head, though you end up nodding.

“i-i won’t go see him, i promise.”

and at that, seokmin begins pushing inside of you. immediately, your face contorts and a moan echoes throughout the apartment. he stretches you apart in a manner that you’ve never felt before, and your arms that support you wobble like jelly. he goes slow, knowing that you haven’t been fingered and you just came down from an intense orgasm.

“s-seok,” you whimper as more tears leak toward your chin, “s-so big, y-you’re s-stretching me s-so much….”

he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. then, seokmin kisses you. surprisingly, it’s not very hard or rushed, but soft and sweet. you wrap one hand around his nape, allowing him to kiss away the overwhelming sensation of his cock pushing deeper and deeper inside you. eventually, he’s buried to the hilt, and you’ve never felt so goddamn full and blissed out.

“yeah?” seokmin pecks your mouth and smirks. “does it feel good having my big cock inside you, honey? does your cute pussy feel nice and stuffed?”

gently, he starts rocking his hips, and the pleasure that results has your eyes rolling back into your skull, different shapes flaring at the sides of your vision.

“mmhmm,” you whine dully, like the only thing you can feel is his cock, “s’good… g-good, s-seok, h-harder… please, hh-harder…”

your fingernails sink down into his amber skin while seokmin listens to your slurred instructions. as your legs wrap around his waist, he starts rutting himself against you with more force, only managing to push his cock further against your pliant walls. you feel like sobbing. eventually, your arms curl around seokmin’s neck and you simply hold onto him as he fucks into you.

“you’re so t-tight, s-so warm,” seokmin grunts, “wish i could cum inside you, honey. w-wish i could fill you up n’then w-watch it all spill out— i-i— fuck, i’m so in love with you. ”

all of a sudden, your world seems to shatter around you.

though you can’t exactly process much when seokmin is pounding into you.

you yearn for seokmin to thickly paint your walls with his seed and truly make you his. it would be most ideal, though even just having him fuck you is all you could ever want. the table scrapes the floor with seokmin’s powerful thrusts. your cheeks are completely dampened by tears as he continues to hit your sensitive spot, and suddenly, you burst like a balloon.

you clamp down tight and release around him, a loud cry escaping your chest while his hands grab at your thighs, his face burrowed into your shoulder. seokmin sloppily kisses and nips at your hot skin. you’d never imagine that anything could feel this good. however, below the numbing pleasure, there’s an awfully persistent sadness that won’t seem to leave.

“fuckfuckfuck—” seokmin growls in reaction to your contractions.

he pulls out of you and immediately curls his hand around his length, quickly pumping his slick member until ropes of white cream start to spurt onto your stomach. his forehead is against yours while he continues to cum, his sensitive, ruby red cock throbbing in his hand. for a few moments, the only thing you two can do is breathe deeply and regain your oxygen.

“h-hey,” seokmin eventually manages to pant, and you look straight into his glistering, brown eyes, “i don’t know why you always go back to him… and i guess i can’t stop you from making that choice but… i only try because i’m in love with you. i don’t want to see you get hurt.”

he said it again. he said he’s in love with you. that first part definitely wasn’t a dream.

“seokmin,” you run your hands down his chest, and stare seriously into his gaze, “i really hope you aren’t joking right now.”

“what?” he blinks, squeezing your thighs tightly, shifting you even closer against him, “of course not. i fucking mean it. that’s why i get so wound up about you and him… more than i should… and, like i said, i can’t really stop you from going back to him but—,”

you can’t listen any longer. instead, you crush your mouth on top of seokmin’s, your fingertips brushing through his dampened hair. ever so slightly, you can taste your own sweetness on his tongue, but it doesn’t dissuade you. not even his cum slowly drying on your tummy or the broken bottle that still requires cleaning is enough to break you from him.

it’s not at all a dream, and yet it feels so much like one.

seokmin’s face is coloured in surprise when you murmur a specific secret against his mouth, something clandestine that was once a principal source of your grief and agony. the boy instantly smiles upon hearing your words, and it ignites nothing but genuine happiness to understand that the person who you were positively in love with reciprocated your heart.

“i love you too.”

[missjanjie]

Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) | (3/?)

Title: Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) Summary: A sequel to Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are back at NYU, but with new and improved positions. Brooke’s ready to start her career as a professor when, as fate would have it, she realizes her TA, Jackie, might have the hots for a student named Jan. The couple just might see it as a sign to give two new girls the love story they found in the same place. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~9k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: E

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Brooke Lynn furrowed her brows and strummed her fingers against the table. “So, let me see if I’ve got this right – you invited Jan over to practice for her audition, got wine drunk, then dry-humped until she got off?”

Jackie nodded in confirmation, her eyes fixated more on her coffee cup than Brooke – she had to build back up to being able to make eye-contact. “Then in the morning she was gone and she left me a note,” she finished, holding the piece of paper up. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It wasn’t your smartest move,” she told her, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. “But if she just left like that, she’s probably just as scared as you are. Listen, the first day I met Vanessa was a mess. I walked her home from work that night, kissed her, and then literally ran away. She still makes fun of me for it.”

The story made Jackie laugh, but it caught her by surprise as well. She had always seen Brooke as someone so unshakably confident. “I guess if things worked out for you guys, all hope isn’t totally lost…” She took another sip from her drink and sighed. “I still don’t know how I’m going to face her in class on Monday,” she admitted.

Brooke reached across the table and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just focus on your work. I promise I’ll find something to keep you busy, okay?” As much as she wanted to continue her matchmaking game, she could see that the tension needed to diffuse before she tried to push them closer. Just because Katya lucked out didn’t mean lightning would strike twice.

Jackie’s entire body relaxed in relief. She was still anxious about seeing Jan again, but it meant a lot to know that Brooke was looking out for her. “Okay. Yes, thank you. I can work with that.” She nodded, then checked her phone. “I have to get going, though. I’ll talk to you later,” she said as she gathered her things, including the note that she tucked into her pocket.

Brooke smiled and waved her off. She stayed put, though. She was expecting Vanessa any minute now. They liked meeting here when they could, after all, it was the café A’keria recently became the owner of, the same one she’d started working in after the Starbucks fiasco all those years ago. It was sentimental to them now.

“Hey boo,” Vanessa greeted as she walked in, leaning over and giving her wife a kiss before sitting down. “Must’ve just missed Jackie, how’s she doing?”

“The poor girl is going through it,” Brooke shook her head sympathetically. “She and Jan got drunk and fooled around, and Jan left before she woke up. She left a Post-It or something.”

Vanessa frowned and shook her head. “Mh-mm, I hate Post-Its. If you’re gonna dip, send a text like a normal person,” she mused.

“Maybe she thought a handwritten note would be more meaningful,” she reasoned. “Regardless, she’s just gonna need some time to recover before we continue with any matchmaking shenanigans.”

Vanessa gave a firm nod of agreement. “Understood.” She sat quietly for a moment, strumming her fingernails against the table. “I wanna talk about the baby thing.”

Brooke blinked in surprise at the abrupt subject change but leaned in to listen attentively nonetheless. “Of course, what’s on your mind?”

“Listen… I know we got good genes and all, but I don’t wanna create a baby in a lab when there are so many kids that need a family. I had friends in foster care when I was little, you know? That shit must’ve really sucked for them. And I just think… You and me are in a position to really help a kid out,” she told her, then held her breath as she waited for her wife’s response.

Brooke reached across the table and held Vanessa’s hands. “Baby girl, if that’s what you want, I am a hundred percent on board. I think that’s a wonderful motivation to adopt. We can start looking at agencies as soon or as late as you want. I’m in this with you all the way,” her thumb stroked over Vanessa’s wedding band. “That’s what I promised you. That’s the promise I make to you every day as your wife.”

Vanessa blinked and looked down. “Shit, you gonna make me cry,” she mumbled, giving Brooke’s hand a light squeeze to reassure her she was okay. “Guess we gotta think about redecorating the guest room then, huh?”

“You know my weakness for interior design,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to the back of Vanessa’s hand.

—

By the time Monday rolled around, Jackie had talked herself out of most of her anxiety. When the time was right, she thought, she could talk things out with Jan. But until then, she had a job to do, a job that she did like.

Jackie’s main task was to write a lot of information on the chalkboard. It was perfect as far as she was concerned – having her back to the class meant she didn’t have to worry about making awkward eye contact with Jan. She had to admit, it was kind of a genius move on Brooke’s part.

Jan, however, was left with a predicament of her own. She and Gigi had sat in the front because even with contacts or glasses, they were both nearsighted as all hell. However, this put Jackie right in her line of sight, and she immediately began regretting her decision.

While the dress Jackie wore came down to her knees, the fabric clung to her body in a way that accentuated some of her best physical features.

And Jan hadn’t meant to stare – staring was rude and her mother taught her better. But she would be damned if Jackie’s ass wasn’t hypnotizing her. She couldn’t help but wonder how she hadn’t noticed before.

“You’re gonna snap your pen in half with the way you’re biting it,” Gigi poked Jan’s shoulder, snapping her friend out of her trance. “Also, some subtlety really wouldn’t hurt you right now.”

Jan blushed, looking down at her notes, which were nowhere near as detailed as usual. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gigi chuckled. “Please, your eyes were about to burn a hole into her butt.”

“They were not, I was just reading the board,” she insisted, but now that she had to actively avoid staring, her body seemed all the more compelled to continue. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to get her mind and body on the same page.

“Hey, you have good taste, I’m just saying be less obvious about it.”

Jan just buried her face in her notes, hoping that if she focused on getting work done, her mind would stop conjuring images of Jackie in various states of undress.

“...And that’ll just about do it,” Brooke Lynn was saying. “You guys are free to go, see you Wednesday.” She closed her book, punctuating the dismissal. Her eyes followed the students out of the room, waiting until they were alone before speaking to Jackie. “How are you feeling?”

Jackie exhaled deeply, dropping herself down onto the desk closest to Brooke’s as if she were dead weight. “I feel okay. I think not having to look at her made it easy. Have you seen her eyes? They’re so warm and brown and–”

“–And couldn’t stay off of you,” Brooke finished with a smirk. “Jackie, she is hot for you, you should’ve seen how she was staring at you. I already knew you have a great ass, but damn, it had a magnetic pull on that poor girl.”

Jackie turned a shade of red deeper and brighter than it had ever been. She suddenly became hyper-aware of her body, not necessarily in a self-conscious way – in fact, part of her was flattered – but it was overwhelming to process at first. “I guess she might not regret the other night that much then,” she managed with a strangled laugh.

“Honey, it’s pretty clear she wants a repeat performance. I wasn’t even paying all that much attention to her, but I swear I almost offered her a towel,” she chuckled.

Even though Jan was long gone, Jackie looked out of the classroom and into the hall, as if she could still catch sight of her. “I never thought I’d be relieved to be objectified,” she mused.

Brooke let out a light laugh at that. “So you’ll go talk to her?”

She shook her head as her gaze drifted back to the desk. “Not yet. Soon… Hopefully soon. I think I’ll know when I’m ready.”

—

“Well, other than you ogling the TA you fooled around with, I think today went well,” Gigi said as they walked back to the residence hall. “You ready for your audition later?”

“I wasn’t ogling her.” Jan chewed on her lip. “Don’t laugh, but…” She shifted awkwardly as she looked anywhere but directly at her friend. “I’m worried I might be too… distracted to nail it.”

Gigi looked at her friend with an arched brow. “First of all, yes you were. We established this. Second, you think you’ll be too horny to focus on singing?” She really did try her best not to laugh, but a small giggle slipped through. “Babe, just masturbate like a normal person before you go.”

She huffed. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Lem’s probably gonna be in there, what am I supposed to do, tell her to leave so I can jerk off? We’re close, Geege, but I think there’s a line.”

“Then go in the shower. Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you?” Gigi rolled her eyes.

“You don’t think it’s weird to get off thinking about someone you’re not dating?” Jan asked quietly.

Her friend pinched the bridge of her nose. “At this point I just think you need to do it so you stop sounding so neurotic and paranoid. Hell, if I wasn’t in a committed relationship, I’d offer to help you out myself.”

Jan cocked her head to the side. “Thanks, I think.”

When Jan did get back to the dorm, she saw Lemon on her bed with her AirPods in, just as she’d anticipated. She waved at her to get her attention, waiting for her to take one of them out. “Hey sweetie, I’m just gonna shower before my audition. You know, get nice and calm,” she told her.

Lemon smiled and nodded. “Oh shit, I forgot that was today. Break a leg! But like, not in the shower. That would be bad.”

Jan chuckled as she grabbed what she needed to bring into the bathroom. “I don’t know where I’d be without your wisdom, doll,” she winked playfully before leaving.

The first thing Jan did once she got in the shower was put music on – this wasn’t her first rodeo, so to speak. Even with earbuds in, she knew she ran the risk of Lemon hearing her moan if she didn’t drown it out. With the music playing and water running, Jan undressed and stepped into the shower, letting out a sigh of relief the second the hot water hit her body.

After she washed her hair, Jan leaned against the shower wall, resting her head against the cool tile. She let her hand travel down her body. There was a moment of hesitation when her fingers grazed over her pussy, but after a deep breath, she began rubbing her clit with two fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut as soft, breathy moans slipped out.

“Fuck…” Jan wasn’t thinking about anything at first, but without even trying, her thoughts drifted to Jackie, to what happened the other night, to that day in class. And once she got started, there was no chance of stopping. “Oh, Jackie…” she moaned, rocking against her fingers. Her free hand went to her breast, groping it, and tweaking her nipple.

By the time her orgasm hit, Jan needed to rest her entire weight against the wall to keep herself up. Her legs were shaking and she was whimpering, taking deep breaths as she finally felt sturdy enough to stand back upright. After that, she just did a quick wash off her face and body before getting out and drying off, going back into the bedroom wrapped up in her robe shortly after.

“Hey, feeling any better?” Lemon asked casually. It was clear she hadn’t moved an inch this whole time, nor was she aware of what Jan had gotten up to.

“Much better, actually,” Jan nodded, taking the towel wrap off of her head and combing her hair out. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” she asked as she continued getting ready.

Lemon paused her music and took out her earbuds, she had been waiting for an opportunity to talk about herself. “Actually, I’m meeting up with a girl later.” She didn’t wait for Jan to ask before she continued. “Okay, so, like, I had just lit a joint and I see this really pretty girl – tall, you know how I like ‘em – and she seems hella stressed, so I offer her a hit. So, we’re smoking and chatting and long story short, we have a date tonight.”

“That was the short version?” Jan teased as she got dressed. “I’m guessing it'll be more of the same?”

She scoffed. “No… We’ll probably fuck too.”

Jan laughed softly as she straightened her hair, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. “Well, it’s always nice to have an itinerary,” she hummed. “I’ll see you later.”

—

“Next!”

Jan stepped onto the stage and held herself with confidence. She introduced herself, handed the sheet music to the pianist, and then she simply did what she did best; she sang. She gave it her all, emoting all the right words, belting all the right notes. There was a lingering rush of adrenaline when she finished. “Thank you,” she smiled politely and made her way off stage.

“Great job up there,” a distinct voice out of seemingly nowhere caused Jan to jump, startled.

“Oh, thanks Vanjie,” Jan smiled, running her fingers through her ponytail. “I didn’t realize anyone other than the directors were watching.”

Vanessa shrugged. “People gave up tryna tell me what to do a long time ago. Except for Brooke, but there’s always an exception for the wife. But anyway… you feelin’ okay? I don’t know all the details, but I know you had a rough weekend.”

Of course, Jan figured Vanessa knew more than she let on – she could safely assume Jackie told Brooke, and Brooke told Vanessa. But she hoped some details had gotten lost in translation. “Oh, yeah, I guess,” she bounced awkwardly on the balls of her feet. “Things are a little weird, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Listen, I’ve been in your shoes. The worst thing you can do is overthink it. Brooke did it, Jackie does it, and I get the vibe you do too. Not everything’s as deep as y’all make it out to be, you know?”

Jan chewed her lip and nodded. Sure, she knew Vanessa was right, but it was easier said than done. It wasn’t something she could simply stop doing, something she could just turn on and off at will. “The situation’s just… It’s complicated. But I get what you’re saying, I do,” she assured. “All I wanna focus on now is being able to sleep tonight so I can be ready to see if I got a callback tomorrow.”

Vanessa gave Jan’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You got this. Ain’t no one around you doubting that.”

And Jan tried her best to take that to heart, she tried to stay positive the rest of the night, to turn her brain off when it was finally time to sleep. She was pretty sure she passed out at nearly three in the morning, but as soon as her alarm went off, she shot right out of bed.

Lemon rolled onto her side, watching Jan scramble to get ready with energy from god knows where. “How the fuck do you do that?” she mumbled groggily.

Jan shrugged as she brushed her hair. “It’s a blessing and a curse, Lem.” She checked her phone. “The callback list should be up by the time I get there,” she murmured, offering a quick goodbye to her roommate before she was out the door.

By the time she got to the auditorium, there was already a small group of hopeful actors forming outside the doors. And as soon as the list went up, they all crowded around it.

Too impatient to wait, Jan made her way to the front, offering haphazard apologies to everyone she bumped out of the way. It was worth it for the happiness and relief she felt when she saw that she was on the callback list for Veronica.

The first thing she did was call Gigi and did her best to not scream into the phone. “I got a callback! And there were only two other girls listed for Veronica, Geege, I’m this close to getting it. I can taste it.”

“That’s my girl, I knew you’d crush it,” Gigi replied. “You’re gonna nail the callback too, and don’t be afraid to take my advice again if you need it.”

Jan furrowed her brows. “How did you know I followed your advice?”

Gigi had a smug grin that Jan swore she could feel through the phone. “I didn’t.”

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee​

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad. 

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes. 

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back. 

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster. 

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls? 

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack. 

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion. 

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s  heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal. 

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

[peachpitmp3]

@revolutionarywriters​ Event 1: “people can live for a hundred years without living a minute”

Word Count: 2489

Summary: angsty short story?

“You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Dea sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples, attempting to ward off the oncoming headache. 

“I can’t just leave work to go off on some random, possibly life-threatening vacation with you!”

“It’s not a vacation,” Jemma protested. “It’s an adventure! A quest! A journey! And it’s hardly life-threatening.”

Dea rolled her eyes and responded, “Okay, well, I can’t leave work to go off on some random adventure with you then! And it is most certainly life-endangering! At least six of the ideas you had involved jumping from high places. Don’t tell me that’s safe!”

“Aw, come on! You’re seriously telling me you don’t want to go do something fun?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize doing obscenely dangerous activities was fun!” 

“Look, Dea, people can live for a hundred years without living a minute.”

“What does that even mean?? Don’t go all obscure quotes and hidden messages on me.” Dea stood up, glaring down at Jemma.

Jemma didn’t stand up, though somehow Dea still felt looked down upon. “Dea, it means live a little! Have some fun! Enjoy life! Take risks! Don’t just exist, be alive!”

“I won’t be able to enjoy life if I’m DEAD!” Dea finished the sentence in a near yell. She internally winced at her volume but didn’t dare let her body show it. She would not let her girlfriend have the satisfaction of seeing her regret anything. Jemma was not going to win this time. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Jemma grinned and Dea blanched. Of course this was when her habit of talking to herself would choose to make its appearance.

“I said no,” Dea said with finality, crossing her arms and sitting back on the couch. Her neck rested against Jemma’s arm that was now sneakily curled around her shoulders. She hated how comfortable it was. She hated how she involuntarily moved closer. Stupid body betraying her. She was trying to win an argument, for heaven’s sake. 

Jemma pouted and Dea sat on her own hand so that she wouldn’t tuck Jemma’s lip back into her mouth with a finger. “Are you sure? I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Dea’s chest felt warmer at the sincerity in her voice. Not quite warm enough to forget about her responsibilities to her work, but still. Warm. 

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Jemma said, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Dea hated herself for causing it. “I really do think you’ll enjoy it. And if you don’t we can always leave early.”

Dea let out a long breath. “You know how important my work is to me. Why can’t you go by yourself?”

“Babe. It’s a couple’s vacation. Going by myself would be the saddest, most pathetic thing ever. Everyone at the resort would judge me! Can’t you get off work for a few days?” 

“Have I mentioned how much Sam hates me? He’s more likely to go make friends with a unicorn than give me even half a day off. No one could take my shift anyway; Kenzie’s already working extra shifts to pay for her mom’s hospital bills and Carolina… well, I’m not exactly keen on asking my ex to do my work for me. And before you ask--yes, there are more than two other waitresses, but I barely know any of them, so that’s not an option.” Dea sighed, feeling guiltier and guiltier by the minute, a sentiment exacerbated by the sad puppy dog eyes her girlfriend was giving her. 

Jemma ran a hand through her short hair, an action Dea recognized as a tic for when she was frustrated but trying not to show it. She felt a pang in her chest followed by a sort of hollowness. She had let Jemma down. 

“Look, I’ll talk to him, okay? But I doubt he’ll say yes. Just don’t get your hopes up.” The words were out of her mouth before she could process what she had just said. Oh, shit. What did I just do. He’s gonna kill me. I can’t ask him. This is such a bad idea. Why did I just say that. Before she could spiral any further, she focused on how Jemma’s eyes lit up, the warm brown radiating happiness. Happiness because of her. Jemma’s face split into a delighted smile and Dea regretted her words just a little bit less. 

~~~

“No.”

Yeah, forget everything before. Dea definitely regretted ever saying she would talk to Sam. Honestly, what was she thinking? She stood awkwardly in front of the desk, having never been invited to sit in the chair that she was now squeezing the back of. Her knuckles were frighteningly pale with the pressure she was inflicting and her palms were beginning to cramp, but she knew if she let go she would begin fidgeting. Sam hated her fidgeting.

“Please, it’ll only be a few days. I’ll make up the time after I get back.”

The man sitting in front of her rolled his eyes uncompromisingly. “What good is that? I need you here during your shift. That’s why it’s your shift. Not a shift that you could show up to if you felt like it. Your. Shift. Your responsibility. If you’re gone, we can’t serve as many customers. Can’t serve as many customers, we don’t get enough profits. You know what that means?”

Dea ducked her head and fixed her eyes on the dirty laces of her shoes. “Yes.”

Sam gave no indication that he had heard her speak and continued, “It means I don’t get paid. And if I don’t get paid, you don’t get paid. I have a feeling you don’t want that to happen.”

“What if I could get someone to cover my shift?” The words were out. She’d said them. Of course, she had absolutely no idea what she would do if he said--

“Fine.” Dea looked up, shocked. Sam crossed his arms over his burly chest. “If you can find someone who is willing to take your shifts, you can go on whatever vacation you want.”

Adventure, Dea silently corrected, thinking of Jemma’s earlier words. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me. Just go find your replacement.”

Dea nodded, smiled, and left the office, making sure to completely shut the door so Sam couldn’t find a reason to take back his words. She rushed out through the back door and waited for it to close with a click. Then, she let out a small squeal of excitement for the first time in what felt like years. 

“Someone’s happy.” Dea whipped her head to her right and saw the exact person she both needed and dreaded to talk to leaning against the wall.

“Carolina,” Dea said, stuffing her hands in her jean pockets just to give them something to do. “Hi.”

The other woman pushed off from the faded brick and slowly but confidently approached Dea. A predator stalking her prey. Taking her time. Carolina walked forward. Dea took a step back. It was almost like a dance, but the lack of breath in Dea’s lungs wasn’t from any physical exertion. In. 2, 3, 4. Hold. 2, 3, 4. Out. 2, 3, 4. Hold. 2, 3, 4. In. 

Carolina reached the space right next to Dea and stood there, bracing her hand on the wall and leaning into Dea’s personal space. Dea attempted to remember her breathing exercises, but Carolina’s breath on her face was too much of a distraction. And not the good kind.

“Y’know,” Carolina said, rolling the word in her mouth with the wicked playfulness of a cat batting a mouse with its paws, “I couldn’t help but overhear that you need someone to cover your shift.”

Dea took another breath. In, out. Slow and deep. That’s what she said. Shit. Stop it. You need to focus. Dea mustered every bit of confidence she had and said, “Are you offering?” It came out much less smoothly and far more desperately than she had intended, but she had said it. That was a positive, at least. 

If Carolina was surprised at her speaking up, she didn’t show it, simply replying with a smirk, “Depends… what do I get for it?”

A cold feeling filled the pit of Dea’s stomach. “You get the moral satisfaction of knowing you did something nice for another human being?”

“Hm… not quite what I was looking for.”

“What do you want then?” The question burst from her lips in her desperation. Dea knew there wasn’t anyone else she could go to for help. Carolina was the only one. And if there was something Dea could give her to get her to do this… it was worth it.

“What do you think?” Carolina purred, face inching ever closer. Dea wanted to move away but Carolina was just too close. If she moved… she shouldn’t move. But this was getting too much. Carolina was too close and too much and it was all in her face and Dea could not--

“I think we broke up for a reason, Carolina. Will you take my shifts or not?”

Carolina’s face twisted into a disappointed frown and she moved away from Dea, shifting to lean against the wall next to her. “You know, you’re not exactly giving me any incentives to do it…”

Dea rolled her eyes and began to walk away, doing her absolute best to stifle any emotions before they escaped. At this point, the inside of her cheek was bleeding from biting it so much, but she didn’t dare stop. The taste of iron was almost grounding; at the very least, it distracted her enough to hold back tears. 

Just as Dea reached the edge of the parking lot and was about to turn the corner, she heard Carolina call, “Wait. I’ll do it.” She turned around, barely masking the surprise on her face.

“Why?”

Carolina hesitated for a moment before responding, “You need a break from work. Sucks that it’s not with me, but you need it.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Dea said, still reeling from the sudden change of character. “Really, Carolina, thank you. I think I do need it. Um… yeah. Thanks.”

Carolina’s confident smirk returned. “No problem. See ya.” Without waiting for Dea to say anything, she turned around and walked back into the restaurant, not looking back once.

As the door swung shut behind Carolina, Dea shook her head slightly to clear her confusion. What was that? Doesn’t matter. A smile grew on Dea’s face as she began the walk home. Jemma’s going to be so happy.

~~~

“Jemma? I’m home!” Her voice resounded in the small entryway as she removed her shoes. “Babe, you’ll never believe what just happened! So first, I talked to Sam and he said I could go as long as someone covered my shift. And then when I went outside, I saw Carolina and originally she was acting like, well, Carolina, but then she said she’d do it! She agreed to take my shifts! I know, I couldn’t believe it either, but I guess she does have some good in her. So we can go to your ridiculously dangerous couple’s vacation after all! I’m so exci--”

No. Time slowed to a crawl. Somewhere in the distance, Dea heard delicate ceramic shatter as she braced herself on a nearby drawer, knocking off all Jemma’s stupid collectible figurines. Clumsy, numb fingers fumbled for the landline, holding it for the first time. Jemma always thought that landlines were pointless. Dea agreed. Now, Dea dialed 911 and forced herself to think clearly. 

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“There’s something wrong with my girlfriend. She’s unconscious on the floor and I don’t think she’s breathing. I’m at 37 South Cypress Lane, please send an ambulance.”

“Thank you for providing your location, we will send an emergency dispatch unit as soon as possible. Try to stay calm; help is on the way.”

Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Dea hung up the phone but the words still echoed in her head as she sunk to the floor, rocking back and forth. Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Help is on the way.

The help was too late.

~~~

“Jemma once told me that people can live for a hundred years without living a minute.” Dea stood in front of the sea of black. Black veils, black dresses, black suits, black shoes. “At the time, I didn’t know what she meant; I thought she was just being cryptic. But now I understand. So many people spend their lives just going through the motions. Doing whatever they think they are supposed to do, and never caring about any of it. Jemma cared, though, and she always did her best to make others care too.

“I think the thing about Jemma was that she cared too much. About her passions, her family, her friends, her pets, her political views. Everything. She cared so much that she was terrified of ever hurting anyone. I think-- I think that’s why she never told anyone about her cancer. She was petrified at the thought of seeing anyone she loved in pain. She wanted everyone’s memories of her to be beautiful, and positive, and perfect. And they were. I don’t know anyone with a single truly bad memory of Jemma. That’s how she wanted to live on with us; beautiful, positive, and perfect.

“But having been lucky enough to have known her closely, I think I can safely say she was not perfect. Beautiful? Yes. Of course. Jemma was more beautiful than anything else in the universe. Positive? Well, I don’t know about always, but most of the time, she devoted so much of her energy to optimism and bringing happiness to other people’s lives, including mine. But no, she was not perfect. No one is. I do think, though--” Dea’s voice broke for a moment and she bit her lip hard, trying to suppress the tears. Her nose stung with the effort and finally she gave in. Voice unsteady but still strong, she resumed, “I do think that she was pretty damn close. And I will miss her every moment of every day. Jemma, if you can hear me, if you are listening, thank you. You brought so much joy and excitement into my life. You inspire me to live life to the fullest, and to never let it become a routine. I will live every minute of every day, thanks to you, and I will never forget you.” 

Dea nodded to the people assembled before her and stepped down off the podium, walking away quickly before anyone could approach to offer condolences. As she turned to take one last look at the canvas photo of Jemma, a single thought drifted through her mind before settling softly. I wish we could’ve gone on our adventure.

[f0xwrite]

for the stricklake prompts - hot cocoa date downtown?

Barbara bundled herself against a heavy breeze coming in off the mountains, scarf flowing like a blue banner behind her steps. The morning radio had warned of a rare “Canadian Clipper” that was to drift from the Pacific into Arcadia Oaks, and as predicted, the temperature had dropped from balmy to bracing within the span of hours. Despite donning a coat, she found herself shivering against the sudden chill, closing her eyes until the blast ran its course. Walter, at first, had prompted that they stay indoors at their usual cafe, but the small space and crowded line dissuaded the notion. With barely over an hour before her shift, there had been no time to wait.

“I’ve another old haunt around the corner,” He’d suggested, green eyes glimmering like snow-frosted blades of grass. “They’re not so good at tea, but they’ve hot chocolate like you’ve never known. It’s just a shack, however. No seating.”

Trepidation loomed in his voice as he eyed her reddened nose and cheeks, but it had been a week wince they’d last seen each other, and she was going to be damned before she let the weather get in the way of their tea date.

“Lead the way,” she hooked an arm around his elbow, smiling when his chest puffed as they walked along the sidewalk.

Minutes later, the doctor watched his long legs stride away from the serving window, feet pointed in her direction as he rolled his steps to ensure that no liquid spilled over the edges of the two paper beverage cups he held aloft. Two matching blobs of whipped cream jiggled over the tops, trying earnestly to stay in place.

“So,” he sat down on the edge of the bench, gingerly handing her one of the cups. “Are you ready to try the finest cup of cocoa this side of the Atlantic.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she chortled, “It can’t be that good.

“I’m serious.” He admonished. “The Blackbird Cafe has been in business for some time, and they’ve perfected the art. They use powdered chocolate, not cocoa, and it makes a world of difference.” His voice lingered richly on his words, dipping just so. “You’ll notice the homemade marshmallow cream on top.  “It’s an absolute delight.”

“Alright, well. If you’re wrong, you owe me a bubble bath later.”

The sudden thought of her nude form peeking out from beneath the waterline sent all manner of thrills.

“In that case, you’re going to hate it,” he amended.

An elbow to his rib-cage found him chortling alongside her, revelling in a moment that was so very far removed from his other life—his true life.

“Okay, okay.” She said, trying to suppress giggles as her lips journeyed towards the rim.  

“Do take care.” Walter warned from her periphery. “It’s quite hot.”

“You or the cocoa?

“Hmm?” he intoned, half-distracted with his own cup before he caught the coyness in her eyes.

She made a sizzling “Tcssssh ” sound as she pressed a finger to his forearm.

“That was awful, Barbara”

“Woo,” she sucked her finger, feigning pain, “I might have to check into the burn unit when I get to work.”

“You’ll have to have a proper sizzle, first.”

“Oh, will I?” She raised a brow, to which he laughed.

Revenge came with the glint in his eyes, and the tilt of a challenging smirk.

She merely sipped her chocolate, tongue darting out to catch any lingering cream. “Mmmmmm,” she intoned, voice lingering richly on the note, to which he nearly dropped his cup. When their eyes met again, his pupils were blown.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance, “how does it rate?”

“Barring any sentimental attachment I have towards Jim’s recipe? Pretty darn good. It’s not tooth-achingly sweet, and the marshmallowis amazing. We’ve always used the store bought puffs.”

“Those have their place. You can’t exactly roast this off of a bonfire.” He sipped his cocoa, and then smiled down at her. “Do you know I once ate an entire bag?”

“No way, Mr. Fancy-pants.” She shook her head, leaning her shoulder against his. “Next you’re going to tell me you eat frosted cereal.”

It was all sport.” he carried on, “part of a pep rally. What they didn’t know was that I was part t-” Confound it! “Uh—troglodyte.”

She raised a brow, “Err, well I bet Jim would have laughed his socks off at that one.”

“He did. It was during his first year. I believe I gained his respect that day.”

With the words, his face went sour, memories surfacing of that troubled creature near the edge of his classroom, scrawny and unnaturally kind. Those days, he’s wanted so badly to levy the child’s worries, and had even taken a proactive role in filling the gaps a deadbeat father had left. Now, in the end, Atlas only carried more weight.  

“Hey,” her voice cut through him. A small hand found his shoulder. “We’ll get there again, okay?”

Finding the hand, he brought it to his lips.

“Let’s hope, love.”

A strand of silence found them smiling at each other. She sat back and nursed her drink.

“This is definitely taking the edge off the chill,” she said, just as the frigid fingers of a draft swept by. She curled into herself, trying with one hand to tug length out of a scarf that had already reached its maximum amount of wraps while balancing her cup with the other. ”Okay, I spoke too soon,” a hand shoved itself into her armpit. “How is it you’re only wearing one jacket?”

“A cold heart doesn’t require much heat.”

“Walt, seriously,” she narrowed her gaze, the doctor shining through. “You’re going to freeze.”

He pecked her on the cheek. “You’ve been in California too long, darling.”

“Walter” Her pout sparked laughter, and he suppressed the urge to kiss the wrinkles it made around her nose.

“Here,” he spread one side of his jacket open, wrapping both it and his arm around her. The proof was in the pudding. “You’ll find that I am plenty warm.”

“What are you, part furnace?” Her arm came around his waist, sending shivers up his spine. They amused themselves with watching the passers-by, as well as a stray blackbird that seemed intent on chirping at them from the ground.

“We must be near her nest.” Barbara yawned languidly from somewhere near his armpit when it wouldn’t be shooed away. It fluttered off for a moment, only to return to lay a berry at her feet. Two more rounds saw a stick and a feather joining the display, before it resumed its chirping.

“Strange,” Walter tried again to shoo the creature with his foot, reluctant to move from their cozy roost.

“I see where the cafe gets its name,” she said as her own foot joined his. “Go on, birdie,”  Again, it flew off; this time not to return.

“All creatures listen to you.” His voice was low, speculative.

“Except teenagers.” The feeling of her forehead nuzzling against his chest sent sparks. Lazily, she sat up and downed the dredges of her cocoa. Then, grabbing his wrist, she checked his watch. “Ugh, I thought so.”

“Never enough time,” he admonished.

She puffed her cheeks in frustration, but then looked up at him, eyes alight with the spark of some thought.

“Hey,” she pointed to her upper lip, “You have some marshmallow.”

His tongue darted out to save the day. “Gone?”

“Not yet,” she bit her lip.

Next, his sleeve had a go. “What about now?”

Her red hair shook. “Here, let me.” Without warning she slid her mouth against his.

The changeling’s moan of surprise melted quickly into delight. A blast of air swept past, whipping her red locks out of their moorings to mix with his salt-and-pepper strands. It drew them closer, and he grasped her jaw to deepen the kiss.

Without checking her handiwork, she withdrew and smiled. “Got it.”

He huffed in exasperation, though his traitor mouth tugged upward. “Was there even anything there in the first place?”

“Was there?” She raised her brow coquettishly.

“What a rascal.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

She laughed, bell-like, as he brushed his nose against hers. Settling in to steal another kiss.

Click, came a sound from somewhere close, click

“Ha!” came a sound from behind the bush, “That little butt-snack is gonna pass out when he sees this! Oh, yeah, Steve. Who’s the man?”

With the force of a provoked tiger, Walter spun around, eyes threatening to start wildfires as he scanned for the imp whose voice he recognized. Surely, the teen wasn’t this idiotic. Surely, there was homework to do. Surely, any number of activities sparked more interest than peeping on one’s principal. Surreptitiously, what was left of Walter’s cocoa found its way onto his pants. He squeaked.

“Oh!” the doctor shouted. “Oh! Are you burnt?”

As if the warm liquid trickling down his manhood wasn’t enough; enter Barbara dabbling at his trousers.

Walter rose with a yelp, dashing away from the hand before assumptions could be drawn, and then spun around to face his perpetrator with an unholy scowl. “Mr. Palchuck,” he crossed his arms, though it was difficult to look intimidating with splashes of cocoa on his trousers. “Are you spying on me?”

“Oh no, dude,” Steve failed to hide his snickering. “Uh, Sir, I mean, principal. I was totally not spying on you.”

“Then what are you doing?” His finger tapped against his elbow.

“Uh, duh. I was spying on Jim’s mom! Dude, he’s like, my arch-nemesis, and he’s such a mama’s-boy. What better way to get at him than by doing it through his mom?”Walter opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. Could he really scold this boy for committing the same crime. He shared a glance with Barbara before he shut his eyes to hide their glow. The Janus Order was different. There were lives at stake–his bretheren’s lives. This was simple adolescent bullying; an entirely different venue. Entirely, he thought, despondent.

“This is absolutely inappropriate and uncalled for!” He finally growled, pointing in emphasis. “After school tomorrow, detention. I’ll be stopping by for a little chat.”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” The boy whined, eyes desperate. “I’m not even at school!”

“Oh, yes I can.” The cold breeze running against his trousers did nothing to stave his annoyance. “Now hand me that phone.”

Steve tucked his phone behind his back. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“You took pictures of us. You’re bullying Jim! I think you’ve done quite a bit.”

“What do you care?” The boy sniffed indignantly. “Lake doesn’t like you anyways. In fact, as amazing as it sounds, I think he hates you even more than he hates me.” He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. “Which is, as I said, amazing. I saw it myself when we were in your office.”

“Again? Barbara blinked, taken aback, and then palmed her forehead. “Ugh.”

“The bodily function jokes, Barbara.” Walter clarified before protests mounted. “We discussed it.”

“Oh, right.” She said, shoulders unclenching.

“Phone.” Walter opened his palm to the boy, jaw clenching. “Now.”

The boy crossed his arms, turning to the side with a dramatic flair. “Make me, old man.”

“Hey!” Barbara shouted before Walter could boil over. “Okay, okay, calm down.” She placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Steve, isn’t it?” Her blue gaze found the boy’s. “Yeah, sweetheart, come here for a second so we don’t violate any HIPPA laws.”

She led the teenager a few paces away; out of earshot by human standards. Walter, of course, wasn’t human. “Remember that time a couple of weeks ago,” he overheard her, “when you came into the clinic because you’d eaten too many beets and didn’t realize what it did to your poop. I let you out without writing up a chart, or billing anything, and we even agreed that your mom didn’t have to know about it because it wasn’t a concern.” “Now, I did you a big favor that night, and now I’m hoping you’ll do me a favor now by letting me delete those photos.  Will you do that for me?”

His eyes darted to Strickler and back, then his shoulders sunk.

“Sure,” Steve handed her the phone.

All creatures Walter thought.

“Thank you,” she fiddled with the phone for a few moments before handing it back. “There, now I’m sure Walt-uh Principal Strickler will be glad to forget giving you detention tomorrow as long as you promise not to do it again.”

“Really?” he lit up.

She looked to Walter, who heaved a sigh. “Fine, but I expect you in my office before school starts tomorrow. We’re going to set up a meeting with your guidance counselor. I’ve a feeling I know why you’ve been acting out even more than usual.”

“Okay, Mr. Strickler.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Try to stay out of my ER, okay, kid?”

“Yeah, no promises,” he grinned, and then strode away.

“Guidance counselor?” She asked as they both watched the teen disappear into the throng of buildings.

“Ah, well,” the changeling finally felt his muscles relaxing. “Jim isn’t the only one who’s been slighted a good father. Unfortunately, Mr. Palchuck is still dealing with his. He and Jim have more in common than they realize. Each sees traces of himself in the other, even if it is subconscious. Jim is sympathetic, while Steve resents.” He looked down at her, the corner of his lip tugging skywards. “I’m impressed, you know. You have such a way with others, and you handled that far better than I did.”

“Well, I had selfish motives,” she pulled out her phone before sitting on the bench. He followed.

Pulling up her photo gallery, she scrolled through the pictures. “I took a moment to send them to myself before destroying all the evidence.”

“Have you considered a career in espionage?”

“Nope,” she said, placing a kiss onto his neck before settling back against him, “I get enough excitement in the ER.” She continued to scroll. “These are cute. Ha! It must have caught the reflection in your eye in this one. You look possessed.”

Green eyes looked down to the yellow ones on the screen, and he cursed himself for his lack of control. What, precisely, did he intend to do if he ever slipped entirely? Protocol demanded that he take her life but that was…out of the question. Would he imprison her, threaten her, resort to blackmail, do any number of things he done to any number of innocents in the past.

Shifting to look at her, Walter noted the blue gaze full of weariness, that unassuming smile, this ragged creature whose existence demanded only that he commit the most heinous crime a changeling could commit.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“You okay?” her soft voice rose past a swallow.

“Yes,” his nose was running against the cold, and he wiped it crudely with his sleeve, dredging his mind for an excuse. “Wet trousers are dreadful things.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” She looped her scarf around his neck, pulling him closer. I know exactly how to treat those.”

“After work, then?” He squeezed her hip.

“Yeah,” her smile went lopsided, “but…here.” Gently, she grasped his jaw and guided it towards her own. “Just a small dose to get you through.”

“Tcssssh,” he hissed when their noses bumped together, delighting in her laugh. And as their tongues met, he forgot why he was ever disturbed.

***

Also read/comment here:

Hot Chocolate - FoxLight - Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro [Archive of Our Own]

[ckret2]

Prompt, eh? Hmm, perhaps try a monologue from a character's perspective as they come to the horrible realization that are falling deeper and deeper in love. Bonus points if it starts over something as simple as thinking the individual has a cute sneeze.

So my first thought was “oh Ghidorah” but then I was like “but I’ve basically already done that with Ghidorah in the form of arguing with themselves about Rodan, what other character that we both know could I do that with” and then I was like “oh Gigan?”

And then I was like “well obviously he’s gotta have somebody to be monologuing to” and then it uh turned into a whole fic with a plot arc and a cliffhanger instead of a simple monologue, and also took me like seven hours to write instead of thirty minutes.

I haven’t proofed it because it’s 5 a.m.! Enjoy!!!

###

The Fissures Between Flesh and Metal

###

“The first time I saw them,” Gigan said, turned to take in both the bartender and the robot on the stool next to him, “they’d just stolen a million credit job out from under me.”

The bartender rapped the sharp tip of one tentacle against the bar disapprovingly, and the robot let out a low whistle.

“Yeah,” Gigan said. “I was ready to kill them on the spot. The apocalyptic mercenary market’s already crowded enough—there’s practically more people running around who can destroy planets than there are people who actually want a planet destroyed, you know? I’ll put up with professional rivalry, fine, but I’m not gonna take this from some edgy new guys in town who don’t have enough respect for their fellow professionals not to horn in on someone else’s job. Gimme another hit?”

The robot obligingly picked up the battery that it and Gigan had been sharing and quickly pressed the terminals to the side of Gigan’s metal beak. Electricity jolted straight into his brain. He tipped his head back, letting the rush wash through his circuits, his thoughts popping and static flashing in his optical band.

As the power boost sizzled out and he came back down, for a moment he saw a blurry golden shape with three heads and enormous wings. Then his vision cleared and it was gone.

Gigan shook his head. “But as I’m standing in a freshly-leveled village on this planet that shoulda been my job, watching these jerks who undercut me walk strut around and trying to decide the best angle to attack them from, one of them bends over and licks up this smear made out of one of the locals. The other two screw up their faces in disgust, the one that licked it is scraping his tongue off on a rock, the middle one’s biting his horn in revenge—and then the head on the other side takes a taste too, and they do it all over again.” He threw back his head, squawking in laughter. The bartender rattled a couple of tentacles in amusement. The robot just shook its head.

“Anyway,” Gigan went on, “I figured then either they were too damn stupid to realize they’d stolen someone’s job—heck, maybe they were just wild animals that had been dropped off to make a mess—or, they were the most fun guys I’d ever seen. So I let ‘em live.”

“Did you talk to them?” the robot asked. It wasn’t looking at Gigan anymore; its optic was off. A dozen different open tabs in glowing squares and rectangles floated in front of the bot, projected from the computer plugged into its wrist. The robot groped around blindly for the battery and took another hit; the floating screens sizzled and wavered.

Gigan waited for the static to die down before he replied. “Nah, not then. Had no idea what language to start with. I figured if they really were mercs and not someone’s pet planet squashers, I’d eventually run into them again somewhere like this.”

“This” being the bar around them: an illicit pop-up stop clinging precariously to the surface of an asteroid under a makeshift canopy tent, with a smattering of round tables and stools screwed directly into the asteroid’s surface and a bar made out of a row of coolers. Places like this were a dime a dozen in this arm of the galaxy, appearing in a matter of hours and disappearing just as fast, lasting anywhere from a week to five years. All you needed to make one was a force field to keep out nearby asteroids and to keep in enough air to prevent customers’ heads from popping—but providing gravity and breathable air was the customers’ responsibility. The bartender wore goggles and an air filter that snaked around her head to an air tank strapped between three larger tentacles; Gigan had enough internal air storage and a good enough filter in his throat that he’d be fine for hours as long as he didn’t get in a fight. He kept his tail and one leg curled beneath his seat to keep himself from floating off it.

Bars like this were the best place to find odd jobs and the odd guys to do them: hired killers, hackers, thugs, dealers in contraband of all kind. Gigan couldn’t count how many bars like this he and the triple threat had hung out in—either because they’d run into each other there between jobs, or because they’d come together.

“We crossed paths a lotta times over the next, uh…” he waved a scythe vaguely, “dunno. Few centuries, I guess? It’s hard to keep track of standard galactic time when you spend all your time bouncing between different planets with different year lengths. Sometimes we got hired by two different employers to hit the same world—I usually, y'know, got hired as muscle to extort a ransom, but the only jobs they ever did were full mass extinctions. I got to see them in action—wow. They’re a moving force of nature. On the right planets—wet ones, mainly—they create storms hundreds of miles across just by flying.” To the bartender, he said, “You’re from an aquatic world, right? You look like it.”

Rapping on the makeshift bar top with the tips of half a dozen tentacles, the bartender said, “My ancestral world? Mostly aquatic. About four fifths of the planet, I’m told.”

“Yeah, they’d tear your planet to shreds.“  He didn’t have enough appendages to speak the bartender’s percussive language properly—like the robot, he was speaking it by synthesizing the right raps and taps through his speaker—but he added a scrape with one scythe on the bar top to underscore the sentiment.

She shrugged.

"Fought them a few times, too,” Gigan said. “They’re vicious in close combat. It's kill or be killed, no in between. I’d usually have to cut and run, heh, just take the financial hit, cuz there’s no beating them without getting damaged so bad the victory isn’t worth it. They’re probably the best warriors I’ve ever met, but the worst mercenaries to share a market with.”

He thought his tone was admiring, but the robot said, “I thought you got along with each other?”

“We did,” Gigan insisted, and immediately corrected himself, “We do. It just took a while to get properly introduced to each other, you know? Every time I met them, they were in the middle of a job—and they had that whole... intense, mysterious, aloof loner schtick going on. For the longest time, I didn’t even know whether they could talk.” He hooked one of his wrist spurs through the handle of his drink, took a sip through the straw—hated straws, but a lid with a straw was the cheapest way to keep a drink from floating out of a mug and bars like this were nothing if not cheap—and grimaced. Either his drink had gone off in the past five minutes or that battery was messing with his taste buds. Probably the latter. "When we finally met each other properly, it was in—you know that cruddy little strip of solar systems that ended up under no one’s jurisdiction after the 'Rog turf war? Buncha little lawless hellholes?“

The bartender said, "My ancestral home world was in that strip.”

“Sucks,” Gigan said. “Hope it wasn’t one of the ones the 'Rogs asked me to clear out. Anyway, I crossed paths with them in one of the space port cities near the edge of the contested territory. They’d gotten in a bar fight. And lost.”

They’d been thrown across the bar onto their back, legs kicking uselessly in the air, hissing and spitting in the worst Suneri that Gigan had ever heard. Someone had been mad at them because they’d finished the job they’d been hired for even after they'd been told the world had paid the ransom their employer had demanded; they were mad that they’d been ordered to stop when they’d said from the start that wasn’t how they worked. They were twice the height of anyone else in the bar besides Gigan; but they were fighting completely naked—weaponless and defenseless—and consequently got their tails handed to them.

He’d learned a little bit more about them by then. Over past few centuries, he’d asked around about a three-headed, golden, scaled, winged warrior that spat lightning. He'd eventually stumbled on some sparse info about the prize weapons of a conquering empire in some far-flung corner of the galaxy, a race rather like the local Garogas. Their three-headed warriors were some sort of genetically engineered killing machines.

So was Gigan.

The warriors he’d seen were very, very far from their home.

So was Gigan.

Over time, he'd found enough info on the empire to download its dominant species’ language, so when he’d crossed paths with the warriors again and confirmed that they could, in fact, speak—

“I offered to buy them drinks.” In their home world’s language. “And they kicked me in the chest.” He laughed.

It was his fault. He should’ve known that anyone who’d flown that far to get away from their masters wouldn’t wanna hear a stranger speaking their masters’ language. Would Gigan have?

“And this is when you started making friends?” the bartender asked dubiously.

“Sure! It was the first time they didn’t try to kill me,” Gigan said. “And they did let me buy them that drink. They were flat broke. Get this—this is why I kept running into them everywhere—they were snapping up half the jobs on the market because they were doing them for free.”

The robot made a painful-sounding buzz low in its abdomen that Gigan took for a laugh.

“Yeah! Yeah. Remember what I said about that edgy loner schtick of theirs?” He drummed emphatically on the bar top. “They just wanted to watch worlds burn. No money. No rewards. They didn’t turn down anyone stupid enough to hire them, but they don’t take any orders, either. Get what you pay for, huh?”

“What is their name?” the robot asked.

Gigan’s good cheer immediately disappeared. “They don’t have one,” he said sharply.

“Of course they do.”

“No, they said they don’t. They weren’t given one. They wanna be nameless, I’ll respect that.”

“I am in the Xiliens’ military personnel database.”

Gigan leaned over, trying to see the screens from the robot’s angle. “Yeah? You’ve got a connection to their empire from here?”

“A really slow one,” the robot shot back, “patched into the network via a Xilien spy two star systems away who is connected to the home world with the worst ansible I have ever had the displeasure of interfacing with, so I would like to spend as little time doing unnecessary searches as possible. It looks like they have got hundreds of files on three-headed monsters like your buddies. Once I have cracked the security encryption on them, I do not want to open them one by one.”

For a moment, Gigan was silent. Then he said, “They said their home world didn’t name them—it numbered them.”

“Sympathies,” the robot said. “I have still got a bar code on my ass with my factory serial number. Do you know theirs?”

“He said they’re Zero.” He felt like a traitor. They'd only trusted him with that information because they'd believed him when he swore that he'd never call them by their homeworld's label—and certainly that he'd never tell anyone else.

The robot froze momentarily, processing that. “Easy to remember.” One of the screens changed as the robot started searching.

“Just one 'he’ now?” the bartender asked. “You were talking about all three together earlier.”

“Yeah, uh, he as in—as in the one on the left,” Gigan said. He didn't think of the information as coming from them, but from him—the one who'd persuaded the other two to share it, the one who'd leaned in to whisper it to him in the dark while the other two watched for eavesdroppers. “You’ve got lefty, righty, and front-and-center. Totally different people. Lefty’s… probably my favorite. I like them all about the same, but he—makes himself easiest to like, you know? Great sense of humor—the murderous kind—the kind of guy that can find anything entertaining. From explosions to head wounds. That’s rare.”

Although sometimes Gigan had gotten the impression that, on some level, lefty was forcing himself to feel entertained. The more Gigan got to know him, to see under the aloof façade they all put on, the more he got the sense that lefty had this... desperate fragility about him, like he was crumbling apart and looking for something to latch onto—a weird taste or a unique view or a good fight—something to hold him together.

All three of them gave off that impression, truth be told, just in different ways. Righty looked for stability in his other two heads, ever turned inward, to the point he was all but oblivious to life outside of them. Front-and-center held himself together through sheer force of will, and held back anything from getting close enough to touch him and break him apart.

They were all three so very brittle. They had fissures deep in their body and minds, fissures traced along the paths of the invisible scars where they’d been stitched together into a three-headed monster. And whenever Gigan glimpsed that brittleness—whenever they withdrew into themselves at a question about their past, whenever they tried to pretend they weren’t nervous around employers who paraded about mind-controlled thralls, whenever they hesitated in front of a door that said “No Pets” like they didn’t think they qualified as people instead of animals—he felt the fissures between his flesh and his metal, too.

He didn’t like to talk about his fissures. But they liked to talk about theirs even less, so it all worked out neatly—except that, sometimes, he wished he could talk to them about how he kept his from cracking open, in hopes that it could help them too. He hated their brittleness. He hated how it hurt them.

“But they’re all fun,” he said. “Fighting them especially, once you get them to a place where they’re trying to beat you instead of kill you. They don’t mind losing a few body parts, even—they just regrow them. I even saw them regrow front-and-center’s whole head, once. I didn’t take him off, just saw it happen. Fighting alongside them, though—sometimes we'd get hired for jobs together—watching the way they can work a hurricane, wow…” To think that they didn’t think they were people. Had they never heard themselves sing before? Had they never seen the way they danced through clouds and lightning? Had they never noticed how they effortlessly conducted both rain and minds alike like they were symphonies? Didn’t they know that they were maestros in the sky? Their sheer visionary genius, their unsurpassed grace, the beauty of golden scales gyrating through the cloudless eye of a storm…

“Hit me again,” he asked the robot, and he wasn’t sure whether it was in hopes of pushing the images out of his RAM or in hopes of summoning up another hallucinatory vision of them. The robot flicked on its optic long enough to pick up the battery and lean over.

When Gigan came back down, the robot said, “I am not finding any monsters named Zero. Have you got another name?”

“No—what do you mean 'named’? They don’t have names besides numbers, do they?”

“They do. The Xiliens gave them all code names. They are things like 'Death’ and 'Hyper’ and 'Kaiser.’”

Gigan shouldn’t have been surprised that they’d lied about their name, after everything else. But he was. And it hurt. “Well—keep looking. You’ve got the picture I sent you, right?”

“I will have to look through every file individually to find a visual match.”

“I’m paying you for your time, aren’t I? Come on.”

The robot made an irritated buzzing noise, but snapped, “Fine.”

“Why do you have to track them down anyway?” the bartender asked. “If you’re so close.”

Gigan shrugged. “They went and disappeared on me ages ago. I’m just trying to figure out where they went. I figured their home world might be looking for their lost planet-flatteners, so…” Although they’d never said so, he’d always got the sense that they were terrified of their home world—and terrified that they were being followed. Not the vague paranoia that any escaped weapon felt, but like they knew.

“So why’d they take off? You have a fight?”

“No. We didn’t. In fact, the last time we spoke was—was the opposite of a fight.”

The last time they spoke, Gigan had asked them to come with him. For good. He thought they should market themselves as a package apocalyptic deal, let Gigan handle finessing the employers and victims while the triple threat handled the razing. Give the three of them the opportunity to experience the cushy things you can only get when you’re getting paid for your jobs—fine dining, luxury hotels, resort planets—because they deserved those things all the time, not just when they happened to cross paths with Gigan between jobs. Take them to symphonies and operas—he heard them singing, constantly, any time things were still and they thought no one was listening, in languages he’d never learned. Travel the galaxy together. Get as far away from their pasts as they could.

They said they’d think about it.

He’d never seen them again.

He snatched up his drink and irritably stirred the straw, trying to suck up the last drops floating around inside. He slammed the mug back down. "Just trying to see if they tripped and fell in a black hole or something,“ he muttered. "Get me another. Less blood this time, it tastes funky.” The bartender took back the empty mug and opened one of the coolers.

The robot turned on its optic. “I think we have a match,” it said. Gigan immediately leaned over, squinting at the screens. Something in him sparked and simmered when he saw the photo. That was them—far younger, with a near-feral bloodthirst in their eyes that he’d only ever seen when they were fighting for their lives.

“The Xiliens have a database of AWOL monsters where they document their efforts to track them down. It was a lot faster to go through than all the files,” the robot said. “You were right—they are numbered, and they were assigned zero. I believe your friends were the prototype for the others.” It pointed at small text at the top of their file, Monster #0, and then dragged its finger down to the far larger text underneath: KING. “That is their name.”

Gigan wondered why they would rather claim they’d been named “Zero” than “King.” They deserved to be called King. “Well? What’s it say? Do they know where they are?”

The robot pulled up a map of the galaxy. It showed a cone stretching away from their general neighborhood—like the maps that came from trying to predict the path of a hurricane crossing an ocean. It curved counterclockwise in an arc, a little more than half the galaxy’s radius out from the supermassive black hole. The path was thousands of lightyears long and, at its widest point, hundreds across.

“They found faint psychic traces of King’s interstellar path almost a hundred thousand years ago heading roughly along that arc, assuming they continued on the same trajectory,” the robot said. “But that is the most recent data the Xiliens have.”

“It’ll do,” Gigan said. At least it was a starting point. Even if they’d long moved on, Gigan might be able to pick up the trail again if he knew where they’d been. “What are these 'psychic traces’ the Xiliens are tracking? Any way I can track that too?”

“I can look it up, but it will cost you more.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. That’s fine.”

“Hold on,” the bartender said, setting down Gigan’s new drink. “A hundred thousand years ago? You’re looking for someone who disappeared a hundred thousand years ago?”

Gigan winced. “Technically, no. It was—longer than that, actually.”

“How long ago?”

Gigan opened his mouth. And stuck the straw in it so he wouldn’t have to answer.

The bartender tapped out disapproval on the bar top. “They could be anywhere in the galaxy by now.”

“Yeah, if they had any idea how to hitch rides,” Gigan said. “They fly everywhere. With their own wings. They spend long flights inside these things.” He stamped a hooked foot on the asteroid. “And I don’t mean a ship disguised to look like an asteroid, they travel in rocks!”

“This is gross,” the robot said. “Organic brains are gross. But here. I got the unique psychic frequency that the Xiliens are using to track King and blueprints to a machine to do it with. I do not know if they are good blueprints. I refuse to think about brains any more than that.”

“It’ll do. Beam it over.”

The robot mentally transferred over its exorbitant invoice. The instant Gigan transferred payment, it followed up with the files. “Pleasure,” it said, unplugging from its computer and beginning to pack up. It pointed at the battery. “Do you want more?”

“Keep the rest. Consider it a tip.”

“Nice.” It carefully wrapped the battery in a napkin and stowed it with the computer.

Gigan sucked down the rest of his drink, pulled some physical cash out of a compartment in his calf, and slapped it down on the bar.

The bartender put a tentacle over the money and carefully slid it to the edge of the bar so it wouldn't float away. Several taps dragging out into wry scrapes, she said, "Must be a more impressive lay than they look like.“

If Gigan hadn’t already finished his drink, he would have choked. "We never—! I mean—we're—colleagues. Colleague-friend-…mercenaries.” He shifted the leg he had anchored around the bar stool uncomfortably. “Does it... seem like something else?”

Several tentacles rippled in a shrug. “I don’t know anything about your species,” she said. “But in most, no one spends that kind of money, obsesses that amount of time, and crosses that amount of space unless it's for an offspring, a hive mind hub, a nearly-extinct food source, or a mate of some kind.”

Gigan turned that over. In his head, he called up the photo in the file that the robot had sent him. They were so young, so furious, so bestial—so much more broken than they had been even when Gigan knew them. It was a damn pity that the Xiliens kept visual instead of audial files. He wondered if they had sang back then, too.

“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t know much about my species, either.”

His flesh felt icy and his metal felt numb during the few seconds after exiting the bar’s force field as he crossed the asteroid to where he’d parked his junk heap of a ship. He was warm again by the time he’d powered it up and gotten off the rock. He turned toward the nearest proper spaceport that accommodated people of his size and profession. He had a very long search ahead of him, and he had no idea when he was next going to cross paths with a proper spacefaring planet. He had to stock up on supplies.

He needed to buy a ship that wasn’t falling apart, too. Something built for deep space exploration.

Careful not to cut it, he peeled the one picture he had of the triple threat off of his windshield and stowed it in his calf compartment, to transfer to his new ship later.

###

If you wanna read my other KOTM fics, link’s in the source below. It’s mostly Rodorah, but this fic is canon to that verse.

[velveetacrackncheese]

Hey, Rad... Alex... Alexlememe? I know that's the name you used to go by and I know you've kinda disconnected yourself from Viv's fanbase after ZP ended, and I remember your memes and such but I kinda just wanted to get your take on the Hazbin drama since you reblogged the headcanon blog's post on the subject. More or less regarding the issue of her being uncharitable to fans and non-fans alike, plus that one callout post on twitter?

So this is weird. I wasn’t expecting to get asks on the subject since like you said, I’ve generally been disconnected from the fanbase aside from the few reblogs here and there retaining to Hazbin and its more recent developments. But yeah I guess I could give my take on this since I mean.. old fans still follow me. Idk why, but they do!So, really. In regards to that callout post (which is now deleted) I really, really don’t care that much. For one thing, Initially I did because I really hated to see someone be slandered so viciously with inaccurate and uncharitable attacks, but I kinda just stopped because even when I linked the addresses from both Viv, and the Ken dude regarding all the drama mentioned, it was either ignored and resulting in me being called a “pedo sympathizer” or “It wasn’t even an apologyyyyy weh” and like, whatever. I stopped giving a shit.

Terms of the traced animation thing... Lol, ok. I mean homages do exist, and her animation thingy was based on a meme so whatevs.

Anyways,I knew from the very start that the whole “tracing” and “stealing designs” stuff was nonsense since there was an entire like, tumblr drama arc on the issue, and albeit Viv’s post is gone, there’s evidence of legal contracts regarding Jiji and that whole nonsense that was years ago. In regards to her drawing pictures of Blaire White and Shoe… Eh. I mean, yeah, fuck em, but she’s made it clear that she doesn’t support those views anymore, and she wasn’t even really aware of the other things they’d done at that point, and I see no real reason not to believe her because what does lying about that gain her? Yeah her comment on the “blackface” thing if you wanna call it that was dumb as shit, but considering 2016 was a rough year for her in terms of trying to find where she fell in the political sphere, I can relate because I was in the same boat. A lot of sjw cringe comps, shaming feminists, and purposely misgendering transpeople… Not a good time for me either! Course I’ve changed. I went from being a reactionary alt-centrist to an anarchist so. Whether that’s an improvement is up to you.

As for the whole pedo/zoo shit, I really don’t see it. I mean like, look, obviously porn art portraying people fucking feral animals is disgusting right. Not saying it isn’t problematic or anything, but to be fair, she did draw this shit like 8 years ago. I’ve seen worse from even more well-established artists and I don’t see people trying to cancel them? Also, the art was suggestive for one thing and not necessarily 100% porn. I mean it’s still creepy and gross, and I’d understand scolding them if they continued to do so but a lot worse, but I haven’t seen anything like that from Viv past those 2 drawings. As for the pedo shit… The relationship between a 17 year old and a 19 year old is… hardly creepy and reminiscent of pedo shit. So yeah no fuck that. Now with the drawing of Mirage and Kestrel and the tag that said something jokingly like “Mirage and her pedo tendencies” or whatever… Yeah idk, I can’t defend that lmfao. Again, Viv said she disapproves of those drawings and doesn’t care to think about them, but that one piece of artwork definitely had some baggage to it that made me feel uncomfortable after reading the tags.Only issue I took in terms of her addressing that, is that she was very adamant about it being an inside joke… Which if that’s true, you must’ve had some fucked up friends like damn.

I would also like to state that cub art is legitimately disgusting and I am of the belief that it can cause harm depending on the context since I assume the consumption of cub art can reinforce the urge for pedophiles to act on their desires instead of finding healthy coping mechanisms for it through therapy. There have been stories from younger users on the internet that older people have tried to groom them and have the notion of pedos preying on them be normalized by sending them art depicting kids in sexual acts with adults. Of course in isolation cub art isn’t as harmful as the actual act of raping a child, and I would argue that people have their priorities kind of messed up since the illustration being acknowledged should be part of combating pedophiles preying on children. However, people, typically twitter wokescolds tend to focus on the art solely and I don’t know why. There’s a lot of MAPS trying to find their way into LGBT spaces and it’s fucking gross.

Now with Hazbin itself… It’s meh. Initially I watched it with rose-tinted glasses and loved it. After watching it for like… the 3rd, 4th, 5th time? It’s alright. I don’t hate it, but it’s far from perfect. Now ofc I know it’s a pilot but a very lengthy pilot I’ll say. My biggest gripe with the pilot is that the editing is really fucking weird. Like the editing where Angel tells Alastor “I can suck yah dick!” and the scene that followed was really off. It seemed like too many cuts were made in that instance and seemed very cluttered. It also feels that way during Charlie singing “Inside Every Demon is a Rainbow” and how many little animated bits were like almost wiped off the screen by how fast it came by, and ntm there was just so much happening all at once on screen as well. I had to pause at points just to process everything that was happening. The palette is also very, very, verrrry red. There’s so much red going on and like… I get it, it’s in hell. But lemme rest my eyes on something else besides red, please. The palette they use needs to be better diversified, and the same goes for the characters too. Every character seems to have red on them. Whenever Baxter shows up later he’s gonna look really out of place. Some of the jokes were ok, and others seemed non-clever. I didn’t think Angel’s joke about sucking Al’s dick was funny. I did like the joke with Pentious and Angel though. “SON??” Some of it could’ve been written better too.

Regarding the drama with the show itself… Personally I don’t get it. Like, I don’t feel as if Angel is homophobic as a character since his queerness isn’t at the face of the jokes he makes? He just happens to be sex worker which… sex workers are fine? Support sex workers y’all, seriously. There’s also nothing intrinsically wrong with being sexually active either? As long as it’s within reason and you’re being trustworthy.The issue lies in the fact that people viewed the things I just mentioned as negative, and associate it with gay people as said negatively portrayed thing to push the sentiment of “Gay man do sex a lot therefore the gays bad” or that sort of thing. Also there’s a bit where it shows there’s more emotional depth to him and I’m hoping they’ll expand on that later. Honestly though, the criticisms in regards to that have been pretty uncharitable. Same with the criticisms for Vaggie. Apparently Vaggie is racist because… she’s loud and angry? Again, this is a case where people assume those traits are negative, and because it’s assumed to be negative, the negatively portrayed thing pushes the sentiment of “Being a loud fiery woman made, and latina women are that, therefore latina women bad” or some shit.  There are stereotypes that are bad no matter what the context is like sambo-esque caricatures of black people. Then there are tropes that are applied to certain demographics that have the capability to be written well into characters without it being offensive or disrespectful. Vaggie is literally angry because she’s protective of her gf. Like. C’mon.

So, I think that settles what I think about that? It honestly seems like superficial shit to me tbh, and I’m saying this as an sjw-y beta cuck anarchist.

The only REAL gripe I have, is with what the mod from @zpheadcanons posted. Because I know this is probably true as much as it hurts me to say it. Faust def has a history of being pretty petty and bully-like to people she deems undesirable, and Viv harbors it by not criticizing it, and if anyone else within their friend group does it then you’re scolded vehemently and treated like garbage. Her attitude also stretches to harboring an audience full of white knights that I personally don’t approve of.

There’s also this

Faust has hurt distant people I personally know and… yeah. Maybe I’m biased but I can’t vibe with that. Sorry. If you don’t make an effort to criticize abusive behavior within your own friend circles then that makes you just as bad, because then you’re just a bystander to things you could have prevented.

This isn’t to say Viv herself hasn’t dealt with bad faith actors, or people who had the intention to hurt her, or very uncharitable criticism. Particularly from the badwebcomics forums which is honestly 4chan like in how they operate. It’s vicious as hell, and a lot of their criticisms boil down to insults and personal attacks, which serve to be nonconstructive. That’s not to say Viv has been kind to even the more charitable criticism though. I know because when I happened to send an ask to the zoophobia criticism blog (where did it go???) regarding something relatively minor and superficial, she blocked me from her blog. I’m still blocked lmfao. I’m not blocked on twitter though! (not yet anyways). Faust has me blocked there though, and I have no idea why. She’s had me blocked for years even though I haven’t spoken out against her till recently. So, there’s that.

As for her apology itself, I feel like it was fine. I think it could’ve been worded better? The take I disagree with in terms of that is like… If I made a mistake in the past, and I make it clear that I don’t care for what I did, I don’t feel as if me explaining why I felt compelled to do certain things negate me from still not caring for my past actions? That’s just me providing context. That’s a really weird take, but I guess that could be viewed as an excuse idk. Personally I think people are holding the bar super high to a state of irrationality.

*sigh* So yeah there’s that. I miss the old days where honestly I could be ignorant about this, but at the same time I look at my old obsessive posts and I kinda just… cringe. I was such an irrational stan I almost hate myself for it. Fuck XD

Edit: I’d also like to point out that I’m not saying Viv or Faust are totally awful or totally good people, and I know they’re capable of being better. It’s a matter of whether or not they wanna be better.