#i swear i branch out and listen to a lot of different artists- just not on repeat lmao

[excelsior9173]

i was going to say “i want to start posting my monthly listening breakdown!” because it sounds really fun, but then i realized i’d just be posting basically the same thing every month lmao

so i think i’ll just settle for posting my end of year concert recap😅

[oneofthosesimps]

Freak like Me

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 6230

summary: as soon as the reader enters levi's life, something changes in him. reader's madness spills over and he slowly changes

warnings: mention of blood (not yours), rough sex, dirtytalk, daddy kink, swearing, dom x dom, fight scene

authors note: although i wanted to write shorter stories again, this one somehow got longer again. i tried my hand at an action scene, but i still have to practice a lot. somehow i had strong harley x joker vibes and they had to come out, sorry.

all credits to the artist of this pic:

Lensar on DeviantArt

-----

Your gaze falls into the depths of the forest before you close your eyes. Bright rays of sunlight fall through the branches above you and warm your face. You hear birds chirping around you, the crackling of the wood beneath you, the rustling of leaves swirling in a gust of wind. You breathe deeply as your open hair blows back. You hear your heart beating quietly in your chest as the silence embraces you like an old friend. What does freedom mean? What does life mean? You are sure that this is pretty close to the source. The people behind the wall, who go about their lives every day hoping to see the next day, would never get to see this world. Especially not the people you left behind in the underground.

A grin plays around your lips as you hear the hissing far off in the distance. The trees groan behind you under the force with which the hooks bore into their bark. That took a long time, you think to yourself, as ropes speed past you. You hear the chatter and shouts of your comrades in fragments, shattering the silence around you. Blurred faces shoot past you one after the other.

You spread your arms and stretch them away from you. One last deep breath fills your lungs before you hold your breath. Slowly your body falls backwards before you lose your footing beneath you and plunge headlong into the depths. The air hisses loudly past your ears, your body spins around itself. You are weightless, the green blurs around you before your whole body is pressed full force into your harness and you are yanked back up. You hear the gas sweep around you as you fly through the air, trailing the others. Your hooks bore further away into the trunk of a thick, old tree. You take momentum, flying high into the treetops, letting the ropes come back to you. Unsecured, you fall through space. Your body does a backward roll, allowing you to observe the forest floor for a brief moment. The moss nestles around the roots of the trees, single brown leaves cover the forest path, bodies move forward beneath you, you can still see a squirrel quickly making its way to safety before your body returns to its normal position and you dig your hooks into a tree again. You zip between the trees, your cape flying behind you, your face brushing some branches that bore into your tender skin. You hear the pop of a cannon being fired and see red smoke in the sky northwest of you.

Immediately you change direction, sprinting forward, leaving behind other cadets who still haven't processed what is happening. Arriving in a clearing, you find your place on a thick branch high above. Further in the distance, you see the shaking of trees, the earth shaking slightly, making the grass dance on the ground. You hear heavy footsteps, still moving slowly.

The branch below you moves and you look to your right. Silver eyes stare at you from beneath tousled black hair, eyeing your small body.

"You really do have to keep pushing forward." You hear more bodies land on the trees behind you and the wood weighs down slightly. The rest of your squad waits for instruction from your captain.

"I guess this is why I'll never get my own Squad, sir."

You turn your gaze back to the direction the titan is coming at you from and grin.

"What do you think, fifteen seconds?"

"Mmm, more like ten," Levi guesses, and the tremor intensifies. A huge hand grips around a tree trunk, pulling out from between the trees, and big eyes stare at you. Nearly ten-metres high, abnormal.

"Let's see what you can do then, humanity's strongest soldier." He snorts and rolls his eyes before his whole body moves forward with a jerk. He pulls his swords from their holsters and places them close to his body. With an ease and without the titan even noticing him, he cuts a chunk out of his neck. Before Levi even gets back beside you, the giant falls to the ground and starts to steam.

That wasn't even seven. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, the blood on his face slowly disappears and he looks at you. A small smirk curls his lips, "Brat."

You snort and slam your fist against his shoulder.

Special.

That's the word everyone would use to describe your relationship.

Special.

The first time Levi laid his eyes on you, when he saw you among all the new, shitty cadets, his foot hit your stomach area shortly after. You lacked respect and you lacked punctuality and discipline too. Another pile of shit he had to deal with - or work on until it headed home in tears.

The day after that, he hit your face with his fist. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, panting, you looked up at him. Wiping blood from your lips, you grinned at him and looked at him with wide eyes, your pupils exploding. "That's all you got, sir." Just as he was about to grit his teeth and lunge with his foot to beat the living daylights out of you, Hange stopped him. He tore himself away from her and knelt down to you, looking at you with dead eyes, "I'm going to make your fucking life a living hell." Your tongue licked over your lower lip, wiping away the remaining blood and your grin widened, "Try me."

He kept his word, always picking you out, giving you more tasks, making you run round after round, cleaning the whole headquarters, beating up your little body several times, but to his displeasure you did it all flawlessly. Yes, you lacked respect and also punctuality and discipline, but your performance was amazing, almost close to his. And when he finally saw the potential in you that Erwin had been talking about all along, it suddenly stopped - he left you alone, saw you with different eyes. Something changed in him, as if a plug had been pulled. You watched each other across the field during training, in mess hall at dinner, every spare minute your eyes spent on each other and gradually butterflies crept into the pit of your stomach. And you had the feeling that behind the cold silver there was something deep and dark that you wanted to bring to the surface. Your exchanges were still kept to a minimum, however, until there was another bang.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you snort, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, brat?" You roll your eyes and stare at him just as coldly as it hits you. The temperature in the room drops noticeably and the others at the table hold their breath. No one dares to say anything. No one would dare say anything. The moonlight from outside shines in, the candles in the room flicker slightly and trace sharp edges on your faces.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you repeat louder, "Better, sir?"

Levi's eyes blaze and he stares at you. His eyebrows draw together, the corners of his mouth drop. You see Armin open his mouth speechlessly to your right.

Your hairs stand up, the electricity rises and you bite your lower lip, grinning.

"You doubt my plan?" says Levi low and monotone. Jean's hand lands on your shoulder and he grips it, pressing you into your seat to save you from your own stupidity, but it wasn't you who was stupid, it was the whole plan Levi had just explained to you.

"Not only do I doubt it, but I also have a better one," your grin widens as Levi's liquid silver darkens. "Let me fight on the front lines. Mikasa is good, but I'm better".

"For that, you're an incorrigible little bitch who won't listen to my orders".

"Yes, because my plans usually make more sense".

"You're not ready for that. Your cluelessness only makes you run from one titan to another. That statement alone shows me how small your brain is if you're not even aware of it and now shut your mouth."

Jean's grip tightens, but you just push his hand away from you. After your next blink, your heart jumps a tiny bit as you see Levi's annoyed face. He is always good at holding back his anger and it never shows. In fact, he almost never shows any emotion, but you see right through him. He has it bubbling up inside him. Never contradicts him and if he does, the person suffers a thousand deaths afterwards. But between you it is somehow different, tingling. It gives you the greatest pleasure to see him like this and you know, deep inside him, a voice is telling him that he enjoys it too. Others would describe you as crazy and full of the courage to live, but that's what makes it all so appealing.

"Maybe we can find a compromise?" suggests Armin and you see the sweat on his brow as he almost shits himself at the words. You roll your eyes and look back at Levi.

"I thought you wanted to make my life hell. So that's a good start," you remind him of the first words he ever said to you.

"Your plans are bullshit. If I let you keep fighting up front, you'll probably get yourself killed by your insanity, " he growls, almost at his limit. But only almost.

You lean over slightly, look at him, smile slightly, grin, bite your lip again, breathe, "I have a feeling you like this madness, Levi."

He tenses slightly, draws his eyebrows together again as his name passes your lips. Connie coughs and tries to draw attention to himself, but everyone ignores him. It seems like everyone is in a state of shock because you simply addressed him by his first name. Everyone watches spellbound as you literally eye-fuck each other. Do they like the show? Almost at his limit.

"Tch, what did you just call me, brat?" his voice gets louder and his hands form into fists. You lean back in your chair again and look at him, bored.

"Oh, I didn't know you had such bad hearing. Don't you like Levi? That's your name, isn't it? Do you prefer Sir? Or Captain? Or maybe," your eyes looked up at him, burning into him, "Daddy?" At his limit. Pathetic.

A deep dark sound comes from his throat and the others hold their breath again. His whole posture grows stronger and wider. You see the muscles working under his clothes, see veins popping on his hand and you feel butterflies in your stomach. His eyes are black. You all sit like that for a few seconds. You watch his gestures and his face change emotions. Without warning, his right hand hits the table flat, "Fuck off."

The sound cuts through the silence and the weaklings among you flinch. Confused, no one moves, while your eyes do not leave each other's. Armin is about to open his mouth and Jean is about to put his hand on your shoulder again when Levi stands up with a jerk, his chair tipping backwards and hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

"I said fuck off," he roars, looking around with a death glare.

Chairs squeak, footsteps run across the wooden floor, making it creak.

"What have you done now?" whispers Jean in your ear and you give him a look before he walks behind the others and the door closes.

The scene stops again and you stare at Levi. Both hands flat on the table in front of him, leaning on his arms and looking down, he stands there. You can no longer see his eyes as his long black strands fall into his face, but you notice his tense jaw. Your heart leaps again. He was so handsome. Especially when he was angry. Finally, you break the silence.

"Great, now you've scared everyone," you sigh and roll your eyes.

"What are you doing?", Levi hisses back at you, spitting venom and bile, finally raising his head. His eyes blaze again and your core drips.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know your place, so start acting like it, you piece of shit."

"I wish my place was naked in front of you." Before Levi has taken in what you've said, you stand up, pushing the chair back a little as you do so, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep too. The day was exhausting and I need to rest to be fit for the expedition. So, I can sit my ass off nicely in midfield."

You turn away from him and your heart slips slightly into your pants. Never turn your back on the enemy. "But of course, it makes much more sense for Mikasa to fight in front and me in the back. Makes sense."

You can take two steps as his hand wraps firmly around your wrist. He squeezes too tightly, hurting you, and you grin again.

"Repeat what you said." His voice is so low it sends a shiver down your spine. Your expression changes and, playfully annoyed, you turn to face him.

"Do you mean the part where I explained that I was going to sit my ass off." He growls and you almost groan. The tension was heavy and hot.

"Stop playing games. My patience is running out."

You lick your lower lip again, wetting it before biting down on it. "I know this isn't about the fucking mission," Levi looks at your mouth. You take a step closer to him, looking up at him from below. "I wish my place was naked in front of you, Daddy," you breathe.

In that split second, his lips land on yours. Two forces of nature collide and you almost topple backwards. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, and you finally moan. He bites your lower lip hard and you open your mouth in pain. He takes the opportunity to dig his tongue deep between your lips. He presses himself against your body and you slam into the wall behind you. A pain runs through your head as your tongues circle each other, fighting to see who has the upper hand. Your hands go into his hair, reaching deep into his mane, and you pull his head closer to you. Big hands grip your waist and he lifts you up with ease so you can wrap your legs around him. His hands travel under your thighs, squeezing the flesh before he drills them into the fat of your ass. Your teeth collide as you drill your tongue deeper into his mouth, exploring his mouth cavity. He releases the kiss and a thread of spit connects you. You lay your head back and lick over your swollen, sore lips as he places his mouth on your vein, kissing your pulse before licking along it.

"Took you long enough to finally decide to fuck me."

"Shut your mouth, brat," he breathes against your neck before biting into it and sucking on it.

"I swear, if you leave hickeys ..." you groan.

"What then? Are you going to hit me with your little fists?"

"You mean like you did to me all those times? Nah, I'm not an asshole like you. But you probably secretly get off on it."

He bites your neck, just above your pulse, and your head slams back against the wall behind you, making you see stars. He smirks as his nails dig into you and you claw into his shirt. Your panties are completely wet and your juice leaks out of you incessantly. You moan loudly as his teeth dig deeper into your flesh. This was far too good to be true. Your left hand goes into his hair again, you pull at the strands and tear him away from you. He makes a face and you press your lips to his again, biting his lower lip until you taste blood. He gasps and pushes your head away from him, "You're crazy."

You grin broadly at him. "We've been over this," you lick his lower lip apologetically, "and I can see you like it." His gaze is on your face as you wrap your arms around him. "You like crazy, you will stick your dick in crazy." A dark sound escapes him and your nails run over his neck. "You can't even argue with me, you want to fuck this crazy bitch so badly."

His lips land on yours again and you grin against him before moaning into his mouth as he presses you tighter against the wall. His hands leave your ass, skimming up the sides of your waist before moving forward to your chest. Two of his fingers find their way along between the buttons, stroking the sensitive skin. Your belly grows warm with the butterflies inside him. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist and run your hand under the fabric of his shirt at the nape of his neck, running it over the muscles of his shoulders and it shakes you with pleasure.

His strong hands grip the fabric of your blouse and without warning, he rips the front apart, sending the buttons flying across the room. You bite your lip as his arms fall around your waist to hold you in place. "You shouldn't have taken your anger out on my blouse," you moan as he kisses the bulge above your right collarbone and licks along it.

"Would you rather I took it out on you?" he murmurs as he bites into that thin skin too, sucking on it and sure to leave a hickey.

"Yes, I don't know you any different."

He continues to lick forward, kissing the ridge at the end of your neck, licking over a mole at the beginning of the mound of your breast. His right hand comes away from your waist, grips your left breast and kneads it. You claw into his shoulders, leaving marks as he pushes the cup off it and you feel his hand skin on skin. Almost painfully, he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and you push your back through, coming to meet him.

"Mmm, you like that?" he murmurs and you can hear his grin.

"I never thought you'd be this good at it," you mock, before you make a grimace and groan. Pain runs through you as he bites down on your nipple and then his lips wrap around it and he sucks on it. The sensation extends to your fingertips and your toes, coursing through your whole body. You close your eyes, savouring and moaning his name as he bites into it again. He sucks harder on it, lifting his head slightly and releasing it with a plop. He circles your nipple with his tongue and licks it slowly and pleasurably. The knot in your stomach tightens and your head is fogged.

"More," you moan into the room. You tug at the piece of fabric covering him and press your core tighter against him.

"Don't be so impatient, idiot."

"I'm not impatient, you're just slow."

He pulls your whole body down a bit, pressing his bulge into your centre. You curse because the fabric between you is annoying and rub against him greedily.

"Slowly then?" he purrs against your ear and comes towards you, rubbing against you too, "I'll keep that in mind." He grips you again and lifts you away from the wall. You let yourself fall against him and moan against his neck, licking it as you continue to try and build pressure.

Shortly after, your bottom touches the table and he releases your weight. You seize the opportunity and do the same to him, yanking him out of his shirt.

"Tch, but I'm venting my anger," he leans over you, capturing your lips again. Immediately your tongues meet. Greedily your fingers touch his body, stroking his soft skin beneath your fingers, feeling individual scars over, which you let your thumb wander. You caress each and every muscle and gape at his well-built body. He surpasses every single one of your fantasies that you imagined while he was training or just cleaning. You follow his muscles down to the V of his pelvis and a deep moan comes over him as you undo the buckle of his belt. His hands also find their way to your trousers, undoing them, and he releases the kiss. He goes to the floor, kneels in front of the table where you are still sitting and looks up at you. Slowly he takes off your boots without taking his eyes off you. You watch him spellbound, a grin falling on your lips again. He pulls at your trouser legs and you lift your bottom, helping a little so that he can brush the fabric off your legs.

His hands run over your feet and you shake yourself slightly before he kisses them.

"Mmm," you moan, "I could see you like this more often, Captain." You bite your lower lip as his hands slide along your legs. Again, and again his lip or tongue hits your skin, caressing it and you are sure you would leave a stain on the neatly cleaned table. At the latest, when his lips lick the insides of your thighs, your hands clasp the edge of the table. You groan and your right hand goes into his hair, claws into it. His hands settle on your legs, pushing them apart, and his warm breath touches your core. He looks at the dark fabric separating his face from your lower lips and licks his lips. How will you taste? There is a distinct stain, your juice colours the fabric a shade blacker and his hard cock presses against his still closed trousers. He draws in the air around him and he groans. You smell so incredibly good, how much he'd like to taste you. How much he would like to fuck you.

When you notice his fingers gently stroking your pussy and he grips the fabric to pull it aside, you moan again and pull on his head.

Painfully he is pulled back and you close your legs.

"What are you doing, idiot?" he gasps in annoyance, his face contorting at the sting.

"I don't feel like playing this time," you murmur, grinning. "My patience is wearing thin," you repeat his words from earlier, "I don't feel like waiting anymore."

You press your toes against his chest and push him backwards. He is slightly off balance, staggers and falls into the chair behind him.

"Unzip your pants already", you stand up and your hands each rest on the back of the chair next to his head, your breasts dangling in his face, "Go ahead".

Completely caught off guard, he undoes the button and then the zip. You grin again and lean forward towards him. Your lips meet his jaw, kissing along it to his ear and you put your mouth to the shell of his ear, "And now you take out your big cock."

He growls slightly and does as you command. Your gaze falls briefly on his hard erection and a shiver comes over you, your butterflies dancing inside you.

"That's much better, isn't it, Daddy?" you see his Adam's apple dangle as he swallows hard and you look into his eyes. You place one leg on each side of his body. Your hands slide from the back of the chair to his shoulders and you claw into them. Still covered with a piece of cloth, you rub your cunt over his hard cock, which presses against it. You moan and he does the same, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing. His eyes close and he puts his head back in his neck, "Do it already."

"Anything my daddy wants," your hand grips the thin fabric and pulls it aside. Drops of your juice hit him, mixing with his precum and you rub it along your slit before gripping his shaft and sliding his thick tip inside you.

Never would you have expected him to be so big. Your walls press tightly against him as he slides inch by inch into you. Your eyebrows draw together because it feels so good. Levi gasps slightly beneath you as you swallow him slowly.

"You're huge," you sigh contentedly as he's fully inside you, and you twitch your walls, his fingers buried deep in the flesh of your waist. His jaw seems tense, but his eyes look at you half-closed. His irises are no longer visible. "God, so fucking huge. We should have done this so much sooner. I think it's tearing me apart," you grin wide and happy as you feel a slight burn.

"If I had known how good you looked doing that, I would have fucked you sooner."

"Yeah, would you have?" you look deep into his eyes as you move upwards, his cock sliding completely out of you and you lower yourself back down onto him, "Do you like the way I ride your cock?" Your movements slowly quicken and you hear the smacking of your cunt as it swallows his cock again and again.

"Do you like the way your thick cock keeps digging deep into me?" He growls out and starts to come towards you. His hips thrust upwards, hitting you hard. As he does, you don't part your gaze for a second and it feels like you can glimpse his soul.

"Do you like the way my cunt milks you?" Levi digs one hand into the fat of your ass, pulling on it and baring his teeth. You dig your nails into his back as he changes the angle and bumps against your G-spot. The sounds of his balls hitting your ass and the mixing of your fluids grow louder. You become incredibly hot and start to sweat.

"Do you like the way I moan your name?" you add a long Levi at the last word and he stares at you like you're a goddess. His goddess.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he murmurs in a dry, heavy voice.

"That you ever thought otherwise hurts my heart." You ram your fingernails deeper into his back and pull at the skin, leaving deep marks.

"I'll never think anything else again," he groans up at you. By now you are no longer riding him. Instead, he holds you in place above him, your feet no longer even touching the ground, and he thrusts into you with a brutality that leaves you breathless. The knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter and you bite his shoulder to stifle a scream. He fucks you like a madman, pressing his body hard against yours and enjoying the feel of your hard nipples against his chest. He tries to get even deeper, to push against your cervix, but the position is too shitty for that.

"That won't do," he groans, suddenly lifting you up. With his pants at his ankles and you in his arms, he walks back to the table, lays you down on it ungently and buries himself in you again. He grips your legs with his hands, rests them on his shoulders and increases his speed further. He fucks you into the hard wood of the table and puts his head back, moaning your name loudly. He comes so far inside you, you feel pain deep inside you. Such good pain.

"God, your cunt is so tight. I never want to feel anything else ever again." You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Your breath has long left your lungs and your brain can't make anything up. Your little body is concentrating solely on how his fat cock is being pushed into you, how he is tearing your little hole in two and how incredible this feeling is. Because of this, you just mumble something to yourself, which makes him grin, "Suddenly I guess your mouth isn't so big anymore." Again, you try to say something, but it is in vain. Your head is full of fog and all you can think about is how he should thrust harder, even deeper, which is no longer possible, and how he should take you. You want him to ruin you, for everything and everyone. Every night he should do this to you so that you can never stand or sit again. You just want to be his little plaything.

"Good to know I can shut you up like this." His cock hits your G-spot hard and makes you see stars. You moan loudly and reach for something to claw into, but there's nothing. "Alright, I guess silent isn't quite the right word".

He's fucking you so well and you glare at him as he stares at you and you bite your lip, your breathing becoming more uncontrolled and you nod slightly at him to signal how close you are. He grins and you push your back through as he thrusts into you one last time and you explode, screaming his name and losing your grip on the earth.

That was probably the beginning of your death - and probably that of every other - but who knows for sure. The two of you were quite a force on your own, but as a duo you were invincible. Soon, word got out about what had happened. You could have tried to deny it, but it wasn't difficult to guess, since you were ever the only person allowed to disobey Levi and get away alive. Moreover, your loud moans could be heard throughout the building. Everyone should know that you now belong to each other. Your madness spilled over onto him. You had nothing left to lose - except each other and you swore you would only leave this hell together.

"Listen up, shitheads," Levi turns his attention to the people behind you and you follow his gaze, "we're going to do another round and secure the perimeter before we set up camp here for the night."

"Yes, sir," everyone but you shouts in unison and salutes. You roll your eyes.

Your gaze, on the other hand, averts and you direct it to the trees around you. The birdsong has died down and the wind has receded. The branch beneath you sways slightly again as Armin lands on it and turns to talk to Levi. You ignore them both and continue to look around. No wind, but the leaves sway back and forth. You close your eyes and concentrate. Far in the distance you can hear a river making its way through the ground. There is a faint smell of wet moss and it is all so peaceful. Far away you hear the tapping of a woodpecker looking for its food before it suddenly stops. You tear your eyes open and clutch the handles of your equipment. A moment later you see the bird fluttering overhead with a loud bird song. Your eyes fall on Levi and over Armin's shoulder he looks at you. He raises an eyebrow before your typical grin falls to your lips and his expression slips.

You shoot your hooks, which bore into a tree and you fly away. Behind you, you hear the shouting of others and more gas being consumed as you make your way through the forest. You build up speed and zoom past the many trees. You race in the direction from which you just heard the woodpecker. You hear a stomping sound that gets louder and louder the closer you get to it, before you see two huge figures running past you on your left. You didn't expect two, but that only means one more point on your kill scale. Your hands grip the handles of your 3DMG tighter and adrenaline rushes through your bloodstream. You draw in a deep breath through your nose as you suddenly change direction and race towards them. In the distance, you catch sight of your squad and see Levi racing ahead of them after you. He is stronger than you, but you are faster. He has left the squad behind with ease and does not look happy. His rage-filled face makes you feel like you're on fire and a shiver runs down your spine.

"Sorry," you shout loudly to them as you fly through the air and your hook bores into a titan's shoulder. You hear Levi yell your name, but you ignore him. Unfortunately, this distracts the two titans and they notice you. They stop and look around before spotting Levi.

The smaller titan is just under eight metres tall, the other about two metres taller, both of course abnormal. You whirl around the larger one and draw your swords, placing them against your small body, ready for battle. You hiss at his neck, but while he has not yet set his sights on you, the smaller one turns his attention to you and looks at you with wide eyes. He reaches out his hand to you. You curse loudly and drill your hook into a tree above you to get away from him quickly. It is just enough that when he closes his hand, you are not caught in it. Instead, your sole touches his huge finger and you push off against him in addition to putting more land between him and you. On the other side of the field, you see Levi whirling through the air, attracting the little titan's attention. He puts up his swords ready to fight, but you are quicker, get in his way and cut the titan's neck with a smooth slice. The first titan goes down, begins to steam and you are left with the larger one. As you fly through the air, you drill your hooks into his arm and pull yourself towards him. Just before you get on top of him you change direction and fly towards his shoulder. The titan looks around and tries to spot you again, but you are too fast. The next time your hooks hit a tree in the distance. You fly towards his neck, your swords just setting when your ropes suddenly loosen. The titan has lashed out, ripping them out of the tree. You tear open your eyes, more adrenaline finding its way into your bloodstream, your heart pounding against your chest. For the moment, your course is not altered, so your cut glides through him perfectly and he falls slowly to the ground. But you fall with him. You try to drill your hooks back into a tree, but apparently, he has damaged your equipment, so nothing happens. Panic shoots into your head as you get closer and closer to the ground. You close your eyes and brace yourself for impact before you hit the ground. Your air is ripped from your lungs, your body aches under the contact and the wind flies around your ears. You cling to the body against you and rest your head against its neck. Black tea and lemon. As soon as your feet touch ground, he sets you down and pushes you off him. You stagger back and see the faces of the rest of your comrades, who look at you in horror.

"What was that about, you retard?!" snarls Levi at you, and you see his tense jaw and the deep creases on his forehead, his lips pressed hatefully into a line, as he presses his eyebrows together.

"I don't know what you're upset about. I had the situation under control." You pat the dirt off your clothes, hoping he doesn't see your slightly wobbly legs. You take a deep breath and look up at him. That was more action than you planned. To be honest, the situation got out of hand, but you would never admit that - especially not in front of Levi.

"Under control?! You call that under control! You disobeyed my order!" he yells at the whole forest and you see Krista wince.

"I killed them, what more do you want? If you hadn't come, I would have finished faster."

"He almost killed you!"

"Right, almost," you grin at him and undo the straps of your equipment, letting it fall to the floor. It is no longer of any use and simply means more burden that you would have to carry around with you. You kick it lightly and it rattles. Everyone seems shocked, and Levi clenches his hands into fists. You bite your lower lip, "You were there, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm not always, maron!"

"Yeah, and I'm good at taking care of myself in those moments," you stride towards him and place your hands on his tense chest, "Daddy."

You wink at him and the others almost skin it at your words. Eren is probably already thinking about running away before Levi takes his anger out on him. You stroke his shirt and he stares at you. His anger is immeasurable, but you can see something else mingling in his gaze and he relaxes slightly.

"You'll pay for that later," he murmurs and you lick your lips.

"I expected nothing less."

[carriagelamp]

Book Review - Summer Summary 2020

I didn’t get around to doing an individual post for the books I read in June/July/August, so I decided to choose a dozen that I read over the summer... I’d separate the wheat from the chaff for you so to speak. Though like you’re about to find out, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were all good by any means...

Crave

My girlfriend got this for me to “tide me over until Midnight Sun”. Between you and me, I think she was taking the piss. Anyway, Crave is very... standard fare paranormal YA school romance with the added flare of being written by an adult erotica writer, meaning the rhythm and tone of this novel is fucking bonkers. If you want to read the novel without reading the novel, just take Twilight and the entire Vampire Academy series, shove them in a blend, and force down the sludge you get from that. Normal Average Girl Goes To Secret School In Alaska For Vampire, Werewolves and Dragons. That’s this book. It is so big and so so so bad. I finished it out of spite, please don’t do that to yourself. Unless you are really craving (hurr hurr) some top tier trashy paranormal romance, in which case... no judgment.

The Last Firehawk

The Last Firehawk is a Scholastic “Branches” series, written for beginning readers (grade 1-3ish, depending on the child’s reading level). It has short stories, big text, and awesome pictures on every page. Guys. I unironically am adoring this series. It’s simple and is introducing children to a number of classic elements in the fantasy quest genre, but it is so charming. Friends Tag and Skyla discover a firehawk egg, and species that is supposed to have disappeared long ago. When Blaze hatches from it, the three are tasked with going out and finding the magical ember stone which was hidden long ago by the firehawks and which could be used to defeat the evil vulture Thorn and his dark magic... I read the first two books to second graders who ate it up and read the next four books because I personally wanted to continue the series. If you have young readers in your life (or just want a fun kid adventure) then please try these they’re the literary equivalent of nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie.

Lupin III: World’s Most Wanted #3

All the kind people that still follow my tumblr and haven’t tried to murder me because of my Lupin obsession are not going to be surprised by this one. I finally read one of the manga for this series and honestly I’m delighted. Somehow even hornier than the show, but hilariously funny. I felt like I was reading a more adult version of Spy Vs Spy. It’s a bunch of short, individual bits/adventures with lots of visual gags and an artstyle that is really different and delightful.

River of Teeth / Taste of Marrow (American Hippo series)

I’ve talked about River of Teeth before, but I finally finished the American Hippo duology and need to sing its praise. This is an alternate history series composed of two novellas that explore the question What would have happened if the States had decided to import hippos as livestock...? Anyways, my pitch for you: queer hippo cowboys. That’s all it took for me to read it. You have a gay gunslinger who loves his hippo to death, a nonbinary explosives-expert / poisoner who is the main love interest, a fat con artist who spoils her hippo and is the only voice of reason in this entire series, and a latina mother-to-be who is the scariest assassin in the entire series and is obviously scheming. The four of them are brought together on a job to deal with the Mississippi’s feral hippo problem.

IT’S A QUEER HIPPO COWBOY HEIST NOVEL GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M STILL TALKING AND YOU HAVEN’T JUST GONE TO READ THIS YET.

Petals to the Metal (The Adventure Zone series)

The graphic novel adaptation to the McElroy family’s DND podcast The Adventure Zone. Most of you are probably aware of this? It’s a great adaptation, it hits all the important beats, shows off the characters really well, and still gets lots of good gags in even while condensing entire arcs into single book stories. This one is probably my favourite so far just because Petals to the Metal was one of my favourite arcs in the show... but you can also see how the art has improved and the chaos of the race is fun to see drawn out.

If you like The Adventure Zone but haven’t tried the graphic novels yet -- would recommend! If you’ve always wanted to listen to The Adventure Zone but don’t have time for such a long series or struggle to focus on podcasts then pick up the first book of this series (Here There Be Gerblins) and try reading it! It really is an enjoyable adaptation.

Pony to the Rescue (Pony Pals series)

I continued my April/May theme of reading old-school chapter book series to combat Covid Brain Fry, so I picked up a few Pony Pals books. I read these as a kid and always enjoy them -- there’s just something so appealing to a child about having a horse. It gives your child characters a level of independence and ability to explore that you wouldn’t get otherwise. These books definitely read young, but they were nostalgic to revisit.

Small Spaces

A really cool middle grade horror novel I picked up. Maybe it’s because I live around a lot of corn fields, but farm/scarecrow themed horror absolutely does it for me. One evening, after seeing a woman try to destroy a strange, old book, eleven year old Ollie doesn’t stop to think, instead stealing the book and running. That’s how she becomes wrapped up in the strange, sinister story of a cursed family and creature called the Smiling Man that seems to live out in the foggy fields. While unsettling, Ollie tries to remind herself that it’s just a story... but this becomes more challenging when her school bus breaks down one day out their own set of fields, and a fog is rolling in...

“Avoid large spaces. Stick to small.”

Snot Girl #1 - #2

A Canadian graphic novel series by the creator of the Scott Pilgrim series! I love his work so I decided to give Snotgirl a try, even though it’s not generally my genre. I’m glad I did! First book took a while for me to get into, but by the time I hit the second I was really wrapped up in the mystery and character development. Snotgirl is about Lottie, a self-consumed fashion blogger whose biggest struggles are dealing with her allergies, frustration with her fellow-blogger friends, and how entirely her self-esteem is tied to her “beauty” and how people view her. But everything shifts in strange and horrifying ways when Lottie starts taking a new allergy medication, meets a new friend... and then witnesses that girl’s death. Or does she?

Seriously, or does she? I have no idea, I need to read the third book. This book is full of intrigue, complicated relationships, murder (or not?), and a healthy dose of magical realism to keep you guessing. If you like slice-of-life, crime, and abstract reality then this series is world a try. Plus the art is gorgeous.

Summer Wars #1 - #2

I recently rewatched Summer Wars (still one of my favourite movies) and decided to read the two-book manga adaptation. It was a really neat little adaptation. The creator of the movie gave the writer free range to tweak things to fit better in a manga format, which means some movie elements were allowed to fade into the background, whereas other aspects were fulled into the forefront and fleshed out to a greater degree. It was very cool, it kept the same story but gave you new things to think about which I wasn’t expecting. Reading this as a stand alone works just fine, but honestly if you’ve never watched the movie Summer Wars you should give it a try! It’s a great mix of slice-of-life, sprawling family dynamics that I relate to a little too well, cyber adventures, and fantasy. Super feel good.

This One Summer

Okay, last graphic novel, I swear. This One Summer was... weird and intense. It’s a coming-of-age Canadian graphic novel that follows a pair of pre-teens who meet up like they do every year at their family’s summer cottages. You see them both in the awkward phases between childhood and growing up to become teenagers, as they’re confronted with things like maturity, friendship, self-esteem, family problems, and sexuality. A beautiful read, but probably the heaviest out of all the books on my list.

Wild Thornberrys Novelization

I rewatched The Wild Thornberrys movie with my girlfriend earlier this year, and decided I wanted to hunt down the chapter book novelization because I’m kind of a sucker for novelizations. Honestly, this was about what you would expect from the era. 90s/00s novelizations, especially young novelizations, are generally just a transcript of the movie without much thought or effort put into them to make them anything but. That’s what this was. It was fine, and it really let me revisualize the entire movie, but honestly you’re probably better off just rewatching the movie unless you also really deeply love The Wild Thornberrys.

The Willoughbys

I saw that Netflix had done a funky looking adaptation of The Willoughbys and I decided I needed to read the book first before watching the movie. This was a little bizarre, I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Over all, I think it was a net-positive experience. It’s an obvious satire on classic children’s novels, especially the likes of Mary Poppins (real Mary Poppins, not the Disney version) and while a little heavy-handed, it does a Series of Unfortunate Events vibe that redeems it. The story is about a group of horrible children (The Ruthless Willoughbys) who decide they are sick of their parents and would rather become Worth Orphans... and to do that, they’re going to have to dispose of their inconvenient parents, obviously. Conveniently their parents are also sick of having children and decide to do away with them as well. The Willoughbys sets up three (or four?) different subplots that are gradually woven together through a series of schemes and exploits. It’s definitely more ruthless (hurr hurr) than the Netflix version, which tried to make the children more sympathetic, and in some ways I think that’s a definite point in the novel’s favour. I’m not sure I would go out of my way to recommend it, but it was a fun romp if you want something short and off the wall (and a lot more fleshed out than the Netflix version).

[astrogone]

                                             ANXIOUS MUNDAY MEME

@seekesotsibteadmist: What is something you want people to know right away about yourself?

PLEASE REMEMBER I AM EXTREMELY SLOW AT EVERYTHING!!!! I swear, there is a no apologizing for quick or late replies oocly and icly policy in this household because if you message me with an apology over that, you may get my response after a few days, if not a week, and I get so embarrassed like shdjsjd please, don’t be sorry at all. I get every reason behind any pace of the responses, so do not ever feel bad or anything replying to me too late or too quickly. Hell, you can take a whole damn MONTH to reply to me oocly or icly and I’ll still act like I would only be waiting for a day and be like “Ah! My friend! I love you”... But yeah, while I am easily distracted and exhausted to do this stuff, I usually have to reply back to ten to fifteen people oocly, and I will always have many people to reach out to when we haven’t interacted yet ( which if you haven’t interact to me yet, please, this is invitation that you can slap yourself in my IMs Now ), and my social energy / motivation to interact with people? It’s erratic as Hell. Also, I usually take way too much time replying to a post / message when it shouldn’t be the case. Like? For me to reply to a one paragraph in the thread will take me at least an hour to two. If you straight just say hi to me and ask how am I doing, it’ll take me at least five minutes to ten to just answer your very simple question.

I have an intellectual disability that gives me difficulties reading the given information, understanding them, and responding to them at a pace the average amount of people can do, but I can’t. The longest time you can get from me oocly is usually six days. Icly though? Boy, am I a lost cause with that. It can be anytime as I can reply to our thread for a month later, if not longer, I will have to let that be known, lmfao... But you’re more than welcome to give me a nudge for anything anytime. It may not get a quicker response from me anyway, knowing me, but just know that my silence towards you while I’m being noisy on dash or to others or such has nothing to do with you, ever. At least with oocly, I try to prioritize replying to people who I haven’t replied to the longest over those that I have done so recently, but I’m an absolute slow and low mess at everything, so! As that’s something I can never change, unfortunately, I can only wish that everyone interacting with me would be grateful for what we have already.

@sinisteraugurey: How much anxious internal screaming goes on with you on a regular basis?

It’s a 24/7 thing, man. I would just try to distract myself with whatever is in my way to block them, but, yeah, it just really be like that with me. Last night while I was trying to sleep, I kept staring at my window in concern because it had these shadows constantly moving behind the curtains, and there’s that small part of me that KNEW it’s just the tree branches that got caught in the lights of the streetlights, but, my mind kept telling me “they’re coming” and I was just constantly like,, “who tho,,, omg,,,,” but,, think about it,,,, I live in the sixth floor of a building, so how the Hell could the shadows reach up there?¿...

@vsentis & @arsonbeast​: What’s a tip you would give to people trying to get to know you?

Ask me questions from something simple like what’s my favourite colour to something over the top like how often do I get existential crisis lmfao even if it’s completely out of the blue or we don't know each other well yet, I wouldn’t ever mind answering them at all. As well if / whenever you are comfortable, talk about yourself as it will usually prompt me to do the same in return. I often don’t throw facts about myself to others because I think it would have others feel like they would be suddenly placed in a position of having to bring up information about themselves to me and I know not many people are comfortable to talk about themselves and / or their lives when they’re on this Hellsite to write and develop, which is totally understandable and I’m more than okay to be interacted with for just writing / plotting.

On a different note, I am planning to create a Carrd about my interests ( like what shows, music artists, etcetera I’m familiar with ) and slap it on my pinned post so it can give others a chance to get to know me more and bring them up to me to break down any tension from their end, so you can randomly pop into my DMs like “biTCH yOU WATCH B.UZZEED U.NSOLVED!?¡¿” and I’d be like “FUCK YE A H, I DO” and create chaos from there sndnsmd

@vsentis​: Is communication important to you?

Beyond important. I personally think communication is THE most important aspect in not just roleplaying, but in general. It’s what builds a strong relationship with the parties. The more they will interact with each other with a lot of patience and understanding, the higher chance that trust and comfort can be built stronger and tighter within a connection. Now, what do I have to say with me? I love talking to people, even when I’m a slow motherfucker at it and I get extremely frustrated and sad at the fact. I love when people talk to me and I can read about their days, personal projects, characters, so forth. I want people to feel that they can trust me and be comfortable coming to me for anything from a random chat to ranting / venting. Man, just straight up slap my DMs with a random photo of a forest and I’ll just not shut up about the time I nearly got lost in the forest.

Now, it does take time for me to reach out to people first, at least usually not because of IC related like plotting calls. For me to come to you randomly and talk about anything not roleplaying related? Again, I can’t be sure if people are comfortable with talking about themselves and their lives, but the more they come to me first for random ooc conversations, the more comfortable I will be to reach out to them first for so frequently. Another thing I do want to mention that if I do or say anything wrong or it’s making you uncomfortable, please? Reach out to me? I mean, I get that people aren’t obliged to teach others and whatnot, so do what you gotta do it the block and follow buttons to avoid wasting more energy and time, but it would truly help a lot with me and anyone else who I am / will interact with in the future. Just be honest with me and share your thoughts to me— I will listen and take them in mind. I absolutely hate to make people uncomfortable without knowing and I would be extremely appreciative if I was told why so I can be more considerate in the future.

@goldenornstein: Do random asks out of the blue upset you at all?

Not at all! In fact, I encourage sending me random asks! It might take a bit for me to reply like anything else, but I LOVE random asks! Makes me go “!!!” whenever I see a number on that mail symbol thingy. So, send me random memes, random thoughts, straight up just slap the word, P.ikachu, in the ask and send it to me and I’ll be like, “me fucking too, pal” jsjdkdk

@seekesotsibteadmist: What are some things you worry about in terms of new people?

I know I apologize for rambling or taking a long time to reply, but in the end, people being impatient or easily annoyed by me or whatever are my least worries. What I should be more concerned about but am somehow not is if this person actually holds good intentions with a good mindset. Even though I had my generosity taken advantage of way too many times by way too many people who I thought were really good friends in real life and online, I still? Somehow don’t ever think about the possibility that this person is actually very shitty when I interact with them as much as I should, considering how absolutely chaotic this site is. Being cautious is highly draining for me personally as I literally just want to vibe, so…

Just know that I take anyone in who my mutuals haven’t mentioned on their rules page ( yet if I do happen to interact with your abusers or people you’re not uncomfortable with because they’re doing / saying predatory / harmful things? Lemme know and I’ll instantly get out of their hair— you don't even need to give me an explanation, just don’t hesitate to say their URL and I’ll do my shit ), but I will instantly kick them off of my household the moment I see or learn anything from them that is predatory or harmful to people. If you do / say something that I don’t like, like misgender my muses or keep godmodding my muses or whatever, I’ll let you know how I feel, but if you’re gonna be stalking people, being disrespectful / abusive to anyone based on their genders, sexualities, ethnicities, disabilities, etcetera, write / make headcanons based those disgusting things we all know what, and so forth? I will hardblock and never look back, and that’s that.

[deosum]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐬.

THE process of arresting anyone involved with the mafia was daunting to say the very least. cases involving mafia were out of reach, and frankly, the police did not like getting involved with criminals like that. but perhaps the fact that they were so restricted was what intrigued xavier in the first place. he was not someone to accept ‘not possible’ or ‘do not get close’ when it came to justice. his hunger for it was insatiable, so he knew very well that he had to do something about the entire situation. he created his mafia alter ego a few years ago, and has since grew quite fond of his identity. baek minjun was your typical broken home boy, who enjoyed rebelling against everyone, and anyone. a master of many hidden arts, he was the one responsible with getting information whenever it was required. he has gained some popularity for his brutality – of course, they all enjoyed violence.

xavier tried to stay lowkey, and only rarely went undercover as minjun. of course, since he was already known in the mafia scene, it was easier to stay away for longer – too much bad influence would mess with his mind. he closed several cases revolving around small mafia members, most of them associates – he could not get one of the important people, it would raise suspicions. he has long worked on finding out who exactly leads the entire operation, and after reading file after file, he came out empty-handed. and his team was no help, the situation rested on his shoulders – and xavier did feel the pressure. but he was good, very good at his job – and at overworking. he would stay up for nights in a row, popping modafinil, drinking coffee, smoking – to the point that ethan’s worry made him stay with xavier every single day. no matter how many times he would tell xavier to rest, the latter would not listen. and ethan resorted to the only thing he knew – stick by his side, help along, sleeping whenever he got the chance. whilst xavier would have been disturbed by any other presence while working, he was alright with ethan – the boy learnt to be obedient over the years, so he would not speak if he did not have to. it was thanks to ethan that xavier ate, drank water, and took a few minutes break.

just when they thought xavier pushed himself enough, another case rolled in – a tight connection to the mafia. a homicide that needed immediate and close attention – xavier accepted it, like he accepted a lot of cases, regardless of how tired he was. luck has it, that his team cared enough to take most of burden, helping the investigation along. ethan ended up slipping a sleeping pill in his friend’s coffee, knowing that rest should help his recklessness. xavier dozed off on his desk, sleeping soundlessly for more than half of the day. when he woke up, and realised he has been knocked out for eighteen hours, he stormed off – and fair enough, ethan was glad he did not punch him, or anyone else in the process.

xavier was in his car when he decided it was time for minjun to step in – his team did not know about his covers, and it was best to keep them ignorant. he started putting his piercings in, his hair luckily dyed black this time. he applied the fake tattoos, took his blue-grey contact lenses out, and put his tongue piercing in. he drove his car back home to change it – when he was minjun he had to use a different car, one that he would not regret smashing against every wall. because that was what minjun did, he chased cars around, he crashed them – hence why he preferred his motorcycle. however, the bike has been at the repair shop for too long, and xavier had no time to waste. his mind was filled with case details, some a little blurry – his mind was hazy from his sleep, and he wanted to curse ethan. he knew deep inside that the sleep actually helped, but his stubborn mouth would never utter a ‘thank you’.

xavier, no, minjun drove to one of the mafia’s frequent hangout spot. it was outside the bar that he witnessed a transaction – drugs, and fuck. minjun dodged the gaze of the police officer, who was cleverly dressed in perfectly normal attire. his breath stopped, and anger crept in – the officer was dirty. with all the evil in the world, he could not stand the thought that those who were supposed to bring justice turned a blind eye. he got out of his car, and walked towards the group of people. the two bad guys greeted him cheerfully – they liked him. his grave look, however, made them swallow their tongues.

“‘re you idiots? this is a cop,” minjun’s speech was heavily influenced by the streets. it was nothing compared to xavier’s beautifully polished, artistic speech. his ability to easily switch languages, accents, and registers was admirable – and a great source of entertainment when he wanted to make someone giggle, or blush. the guys looked at the cop, but minjun was quicker. he grabbed his collar, and punched him in the face – blood started to drip down. he broke the guy’s nose as if it were an old branch. “now, tell us, mate. you’ve told your cop friends about this?” he shook him, pushed him until he crashed against a wall. the guy was barely breathing, his mouth was full of blood.

“no, I-I-I s-swear nobody kn-knows,” the guy stuttered, but minjun did not believe him. he passed him to his ‘friends’ and gave them the signal to finish the job. he turned away and walked inside the bar, hearing the groans, and screams. he convinced himself he did not care. he had to convince himself.

he walked in, and a lot of people came up to him. they respected him, they were in awe of his accomplishments – and word has it he was more powerful than he let on. they believed he had an important role in the entire operation – and that was exactly what he wanted them to believe. he wanted to be famous, needed that recognition in order to attract the attention of his person of interest. and for the first time, he realised, it worked.

“mj, there’s someone who’s dying to meet ya,” one of the people minjun regularly talked to approached, and urged him to follow him to a secluded room. the bar was lively, but once they left the main area, everything became silent. the room he was brought to was filled with smoke, laughter, alcohol, and beautiful girls who were there for a good time. minjun definitely did not fit in this scene, his distressed jeans, leather jacket, piercings, and tattoos were in opposition with the neat, clean look of everyone inside. there was one person who caught his attention – he was surrounded by girls, giggling in his ears, and he exuded power. xavier’s gut feeling made him extremely careful, this man was someone he did not want to upset. this man was someone who should never know his real identity.

“boss, this is the guy we’ve been tellin’ you ‘bout. he just beat up a cop,” the guy laughed and pat minjun’s back in admiration, minjun smirked satisfied. he did not like to brag about his accomplishments, but he was clearly satisfied. he fixed his leather jacket, some dried blood still visible on his knuckles.

“surprised nobody smelled him out before,” minjun said it casually, not meaning it as an insult. It was rather a show of his modesty, something to gain him respect. as if he was saying ‘no big deal, I got this, I am your man’. he laid his eyes on the man, and waited, almost holding his breath in the process.

-- ( @meikosflower​ )

[sw124]

[Lamia-Bitty Daily life!11]

Hello my Lamia lovers how are all of you, good I hope. I’m doing good an so are my boys. I got nothing much to report on, new guy moved in down the street, haven’t had time to go introduce myself, Chip is laying on me while Dante is napping on his own chair across the room.

.....

Now Chip is moving over to Dante’s chair and curling up with him, probably for warmth purposes. Today is just our lazy day, we’re chilling out watching cooking shows, anime, listening to comedians and just having a wonderful time doing absolutely nothing.

Well accept doing some laundry but thats my chore not the boys, these are days where you just wanna laze around doing at least just one chore an for me thats laundry. For my boys its just a nice day to do nothing, they help out but they don’t have to.

So yeah today is just pure lazy, we may go out for a bite but right now a nice long nap watching some shows is just what we need today.

But now I’m feeling cooped up, so we’re gonna go on a nice little stroll through the neighborhood an even though the park.

..............

So yeah while going through the park the three of us encountered a young lady passing out flyers. We were curious so we went up to see what it was, turns out she was handing out information on Aviary Bitties, she got me intrigued. I asked her for more information and she happily explained.

She then offered to take me to the center where these lovely Bitties are raised, though shy about it at first; Chip and Dante encouraged me to go. Before long we were teleported to a beautiful building. Glass walls with verdant plants everywhere, mossy rocks, large palm trees, lots of tree’s inside actually.

The buildings front read: The Coalition Aviary of City Park

She handed me a book, a guid to the Bird Bitties inside. She takes us inside and we sit in the cafeteria, there are so many beautiful birds here I can’t decide....but at the same time which ones will be compatible with my boys.

Our conversation was nice and informative, her name is Fic, she’s so nice. She introduced me to a Nightwing she has. Oh he’s cute but since I got Chip it might be a little....overwhelming for me. But again he’s nice, I read over the book with Chip and Dante, so far I’m seeing so many pretty birds.

Dawnwings had my attention at first but I tend to use curses from time to time so thats out. Smoke and Mirrors were next up but I’m kinda sensitive and I’m already on edge with Chip’s pranks, not just that I don’t think I can handle things going missing in my home. Vogue and Cosmos are next, I have issues with vain people at times so Vogues are out, Cosmos....I’ll get back to them.

.......

I’m taking a break from the book, Fic offered me a tour through the facility which I accepted. Chip and Dante followed, well Chip took his place over my shoulders while Dante slithered close beside me, holding my hand.

[such a sweetie!]

So we enter the aviary and as we walked at one point...I’m swarmed by a species called Elvis. They literally dive bombed me and I was covered in a cuddle pile, as lovely as it was...being dive-bombed all the time doesn’t seem like me. Though a Sinatra did take a fancy to me and persisted on staying with us while we continued the tour. The next was a enclosure full of...

“PENGUINS!”

I couldn’t stop myself, it was a room full of penguins! Instantly a flock of them had surrounded my ankles and were hugging me, now this was a pile I was more then happy to be at the bottom of. Chip started talking with one who had taken my lap as his seat, Dante too. So I’ve found a Sinatra and a...Mr. Bow Tie.

[Thats the name of the species OH MY GOSH SO FREAKING CUTE! I swear Fic took a picture of me getting mobbed by these little guys....I’ll ask for a copy.]

I wasn’t quite satisfied, I felt like one more would round us all out. So we all walked around the Aviary again, we sat down to have a little rest. I was turning over in my head what bird I want for my third pick.....it was then the little Sinatra on my head motioned me to follow it, I asked Fic to watch the others as I followed him. We went to a little remote part of the Aviary, there sitting on a low branch was a Cosmos....

He seemed....really sad, some of his feathers were on the ground, I thought he was molting but then I saw him pull a feather from his wings off. I may not know birds but I know the difference between preening and pulling. The Sinatra flew up and stopped him, there was a little squawking between the two before the Sinatra calmed the Cosmos down.

.....I think I got the picture, the Sinatra won’t leave the Cosmos alone, poor thing must have had a rough time. Well its settled, I walked up and smiled offering it a home with me and the Sinatra. It hesitated but......accepted, especially if this particular Sinatra was coming with.

So now my Lamia friends I have now adopted three birds, a Sinatra, a Mr. Bow tie and a Cosmos. Their names are as follows: [in order] Mozart, Tundra and Nebula.

[Update! After two months]

Sooooo here we are my big family, things have been very nice since the three new additions. Right now I’m laying n my bathroom floor, my feet propped over the side of the tub soaking in warm water, Chip, Tundra and Mozart are enjoying the water while Dante is my pillow and Nebula is sitting on the plush toilet cover.

(Don’t worry the seat is down so he’s not gonna fall in)

Nebula has taken to his new life here rather quickly, Fic did tell me he was a rescue from a rather....unsavory owner and Mozart was sorta a comfort friend. Though I figure the two are more then friends, I did tell my feathery boys that any nest they build must be well hidden, it has to be in a place where I would NEVER expect to look. I’m taking this ‘nest’ thing seriously.

Tundra understands I don’t wanna know where their nests are so he’s taken it upon himself to help Nebula and Mozart find a place for their nest. I’ve also told them of my weird habits, though Dante and Chip are well aware of my habits these three are not.

But artists, writers and many people have weird habits, I tend to talk out scenes in stories I’m writing or act out scenes of situations that never happen to get excess energy out of me. They’ve seen me do this a few times, walking around and such but at this point they know its not a bad thing or anything to be concerned with. Though at times when I hear a angsty story I tend to get more aggressive in my talking even slapping my own hand, but again Chip and Dante are aware I do this and have shown the others what to do when I get like this.

Basically leave the room and wait till I’m burnt out, Nebula has caught on to this already.

All in all...I’ve got a huge family now and I’ve never felt more content.

[For Lamia adoptions speak to @vex-bittys for Bird Bitties visit @coalition-aviary-bitty-adoption they will supply you the information on all the different bird bitties including the babies I have Fic however is @addicted-to-the-fic who was my lovely guidee]

[worrywirt]

The music video for There There by Radiohead is a masterpiece and here is why

So, as many of you might know already, There There and Nude are my two favourite songs by my favourite band, Radiohead. They are two very unique songs that move me in different but equally intense ways. But what makes There There extra special to me is the video, which managed to combine basically all the things that I love: spooky forests, little animals in clothes, hollow trees with winding roots, references to fairy tales and literature and a dream-like, voyeuristic atmosphere. I am first going to analyse the song itself, then how combined with the video, it is one of my favourite pieces of media I have ever seen.

Lyrics here. As the song starts off, it already feels like the listener is dropped inside a weird, intense primal world. I love percussion-heavy music and when I first heard it, the use of tom-toms and alienating, hardly recognisable sounds already reminded me of one of my other favourite artist’s best-know song: Björk’s Human Behaviour. I can’t really explain it if you don’t hear it, but both have this hypnotic, primal quality that beckons you in right off the bat. Then Thom’s mournful voice sings: “In pitch dark/ I go walking in your landscape/ Broken branches/ Trip me as I speak”. Not to go all A-Level English on his ass because let’s be honest, Thom’s lyrics are often nonsensical and vague, but I love this verse so much. It goes perfectly with the instrumental, starting off in a way that is like the start of a story; the words painting you a picture that is both dreamlike and frightening. To me, it describes falling in love in a way: “I am walking in your world, and I don’t know the way, and it’s all new and confusing and dark and sometimes I say the wrong things but I am still exploring, and it’s beautiful”

After this start that frankly hits you in the chest like a basketball in year 9 PE, we are treated to a combo attack with the lines “Just 'cause you feel it/ Doesn't mean it's there”. In classic Radiohead fashion, all the perceived optimism from the first verse is denied from us, basically saying “just because you feel a connection, it doesn’t mean it’s real”. Trust issues central. But it can also be interpreted to mean emotions in general, which is usually how I (a very emotional person) interpret it: feelings technically aren’t real. And the way you perceive the world while you are Going Through It™ is not always correct. No, everyone doesn’t hate you because their world isn’t centred around you: stop obsessing. It’s okay. There, there. (This is also reinforced later on with “someone on your shoulder”, basically saying it’s just your brain playing tricks.) Additionally, some think it’s referring to a dream, which would fit thematically with the music video.

The next verse to me is about the temptation of a bad decision while Going Through It™. Yes, it would be very easy to do the wrong thing, to go off this path that is making it really hard to get up in the morning: but it would also ruin you. I also interpret “don’t reach out” as coming from the siren (i.e. surprise, surprise: depression) – it wants you to self-destruct, to be a “walking disaster” but that, however tempting, is the wrong thing to do. The use of “we” also works with the “someone on your shoulder” line, and to me (however cringy that sounds) it means that music will always be there for me and help me work things out. It can also be applied to the relationship angle: the couple are in the same boat (/ship), and if one of them does something self-destructive, it will affect both. Both of these options work with the “Why so green and lonely? (…) Heaven sent you to me” lines. It’s interesting because the religious interpretation on Genius always annoyed me – Radiohead are the least religious band ever! This is the only religious reference I can think of from the top of my head, minus “angel” in Creep – but because it’s so rare, maybe it has a reason to be here? Maybe it IS about God after all, but I don’t really think so. Also, to me the imagery of “green and lonely” and the nautical “siren” and “shipwreck” have a much bigger weight visually than “heaven”, so they negate the religiousness in my eyes. I think it’s about two broken people finding each other, but also finding it hard to figure out how to fit together. They’re thinking that it might be a lost cause and destruction is right around the corner, but the best they can do (is good enough) is try and be there for each other while they head towards their ultimate end. Very comforting in a twisted way, which is Radiohead’s specialty.

So, let’s talk about the VIDEO!!! I’m writing this after an HQ version was FINALLY released on their website, so I’m going to use screenshots of that because oh my god, it’s beautiful. 

We start off with the “pitch-dark landscape”, more-or-less just as I imagined it while listening to the song. Although it is kind of drab and boring at the start, this only emphasises the magical quality of what it becomes later, as our protagonist Thom (I’m going to call him by name but I’m obviously referring to the character, not the real person) heads deeper and deeper inside. Oh, how I love forests in the dark. Nothing else has the same perfect ambiance.

Thom is walking in a way that matches the rhythm and the dreamlike atmosphere of the song, i.e. somewhere between an alien who just learned the way the Earthlings walk and the exaggerated, slightly sped-up movements of a silent movie star. We already know he has an affinity towards both bowler hats (Lotus Flower video) and pantomime-like acting (ANIMA) so this is truly on brand. He then sees dark clouds pass at a breakneck pace (again, the dreaminess of it all... chef’s kiss), then confused and lost, heads back into the forest which this time looks a lot less boring and “real” then at the start. The dark clouds can be interpreted as a warning of things to come (“stay out, not safe”), which he ignores or just a sign that something is off and we’re not in Kansas anymore.

So as he turns back, we’re treated to my first Favourite Moment: Thom finding the beckoning yellow light and deciding to follow it. The way he is acting suggests both curiosity and sneakiness, like he suspects the thing emitting the light is much better than his original destination (if he had a destination at all). 

I love the way the light is illuminating his eyes here, it again reminds me very much of old movies (and Morticia Addams in the 90s movies, but probably because the filmmakers also took inspiration from the same well)

Oh my god, just look at this shot. Beautiful. Lothlórien who?? I only know magical glowy Radiohead forest. Because yes, we’ve obviously crossed the path between realms the minute Thom decided to pursue the yellow light (which can also be connected to the “siren singing you to shipwreck” in the lyrics). This is now the land of magic and fairy tales, and strange things are afoot. 

Again, I gotta stop analysing for a moment and just note that the amount of serotonin this gives me would fuel 10 people for a year. For anyone who doesn’t know me well enough, animals in little clothes living in little well-arranged dwellings inside a tree are in the top 5 things that make me happy, and combined with Thom Yorke Radiohead peeking in the window like an innocuous tourist… and the warm light illuminating the miniatures… perfection. Okay, moving on.

Thom is exploring this strange world of anthropomorphic animals like an awkward giant, without seemingly anyone noticing him. This adds to the alienation seeping from the music: this is a weird and wonderful place but you don’t belong here (sorry for the Creep reference, swear it was not intentional). He first saw a pair of squirrels, chilling in their house; then a big banquet; then a cat wedding (power of 3, the fairy-tale number). If we are going with the dream metaphor here, these might be alluding to things happening in real life, especially the wedding as he actively walks away from it, but this is just a speculation. Mostly it just shows that these animals are living in a happy little community and we love that for them! But it also make me feel like this is a coping mechanism for our protagonist here. Apparently Thom (the real one) got the idea for this video from a children’s TV show called Bagpuss: I had a look and it’s the tear-jerkingly comforting and nostalgic stop-motion series that everyone needs one of in their lives (I have several, both English and Hungarian). The subtitle “The Boney King of Nowhere” refers to a song in episode 2 about a king who wasn’t comfortable on his throne: according to this link, this resonated with Thom, who found himself on a pedestal he never wanted. (It’s kind of funny that a little kid’s song about a king’s bony ass has such a sick name though). He also wanted the original creator of the show (Oliver Postgate) to animate the video but he declined. Anyway, the "fifties East European genre animation, overlaboured and naïve” aesthetic, to me, symbolises comfort and warmth that our protagonist doesn’t feel at home in.

So off he goes, into the dark heart of the forest. Also, important to note the patch of fog that keeps showing him the way: is this the siren’s song physically manifested, pulling him away from the warmth of community? (”don’t reach out, don’t reach out”)

He then climbs up and sees a golden coat on a tree inside some kind of ancient ruin. This to me immediately brought to mind the Golden Fleece from Ancient Greek myth, which was the fleece of a magical ram that hung on an oak tree. It signified kingship, linking back to the subtitle. Thom sneaks to the tree, looks up at the ravens (7 of them: another fairy-tale number) and when he sees they are sleeping, tries on the coat. I found it interesting how at this point the coat looks quite ordinary, drab and brown – possibly a metaphor for a decision that you know is bad but you do it anyway; and by the time you realise it actually didn’t feel as good as you thought, it is too late - he listened to temptation (the sirens). He even takes the boots from inside the tree, which reminded me of SO many of the folktales that I grew up on: it’s not enough that the bad sibling did this one bad thing, they even did ANOTHER bad thing, which cements the listener in believing them to be irredeemable and worthy of the awful fate the tale has in store for them. The ravens (birds of death and in this case agents of justice) wake up – Thom has a little “oh shit” close-up and then start running for his life in his new attire.

Addition: another theory I found interesting among the comments is that this place is Limbo -  “

The gothic look of the ravens chasing Thom with the rising full moon is such a huge contrast to the warm, comforting glow of the stop-motion animal town, but it makes sense with the crescendo of the music and it’s dark and menacing cacophony: “we are accidents waiting to happen”. This was Thom’s mistake: and now there is no turning back. (Quick note: his running here reminds me once again of the Human Behaviour video – I am working on another similar essay that concentrates on how Radiohead and Björk are mirrors of each other so look out for that). 

He thinks he is saved for a moment by the magical seven-league boots (another folktale reference) but it is only a false hope. He gets his punishment and turns into a tree by what we can assume to be a painful and terrifying process (I love his facial expression so much). The ravens arrive and we realise that this is most likely how the previous tree met his or her fate. The cycle continues. He is now the Boney King of Nowhere.

One of my favourite mental images is people taken over by nature: not in a decomposing way but more like a Hanahaki disease way. Thom turning into a tree reminded me of a couple of things: one, my other favourite piece of entertainment Over the Garden Wall, which is very similar in tone to this video (if I ever meet Thom, I genuinely only want to ask him if he’s ever seen it and if yes what his thoughts are on it). SPOILERS for OTGW: the Beast turns lost children into trees and uses oil from the trees to keep his lantern alive, which is basically his life source – in this case the tree-person seems to be the living beating heart of the forest. The way the tree-curse is transmitted also reminded me of how the lantern was (nearly) passed down to Wirt. Basically, it is an inheritable burden. Two, and this isn’t my interpretation but I thought I’d mention it: Daphne & Apollo, wherein Daphne hides from Apollo’s sexual advances by turning into a tree. This doesn’t really fit the tone of the scene in my opinion, because Thom’s transformation is an involuntary punishment; but it kind of connects to the other reference to Greek myth, Odysseus and the sirens (both chasing after women, or the impossible dream). Three: Dante’s Inferno, in which the second ring of the seventh circle is the Wood of Suicides where “the souls of the people who attempted or committed suicide are transformed into gnarled, thorny trees and then fed upon by Harpies, hideous clawed birds with the faces of women; the trees are only permitted to speak when broken and bleeding”. Whomp whomp, it was a suicide metaphor :/ And it wasn’t a dream, it was Limbo - a thematic preoccupation of the band, so not impossible.

A comment I found relating to this: “After death you have to cross over. He got distracted by the nice and shiny shoes and jacket (don't reach out), hence the siren that leads you to shipwreck (Odysseus). When you want to enter the spiritual realm you have to be able to leave the material world behind or you shall not pass. He was distracted, got caught and changed into a worldly tree (he was still to attached to the material realm). The so-called reality we live now is the dream. (Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there). He remembered that he died and came back to this illusion. We are stuck in a lift....” I really like this interpretation of Thom’s downfall being too attached to materialism/ fame & fortune. I wonder what he meant by “came back to this illusion”? Also, who are the animals in this scenario: aspects of Thom’s life or other people, stuck in Limbo/ every-day oblivion?

This wouldn’t be the first or last time Radiohead explores the concept of death, so I don’t think it’s far-fetched. And it fits with the lyrics too, as I’ve discussed briefly above: this is what happens when you listen to the siren (the fog, the light) and stray away from the cute animal town, Thomas! I’m joking because it is kind of a bummer to end it on this, but I just love how dense and layered this video is. Most of their videos are top-notch but this one just hits a really sweet spot for me, so yeah! 2500 words! I’m glad you came along, pardner! Goodbye till next time!

[high5nerd]

Alone Together---Chap. Nineteen

A second reminder that this fic is 100% abandoned, apologies in advance if that puts a downer on my fellow Pitch Black fans.

Sadie was the only source besides calendars that told me that time had passed. Not only would she vocally shout all over the house what holiday it was or what special occassion was going to happen, but the little girl at age ten overtime turned fourteen.

And boy what a brat she can be.

She gave me that sigh with the roll of the eyes teenage girls do. Alice thought it was hysterical but me? I just wanted to smack it off of her! Giving me attitude, why, if I gave my parents attitude I'd be spanked with a paddle or hit with the back of my mother's hand.

But other than her attitude I can understand where she's coming from. She's wanting more independence, she's growing up.

Why does that remind me of Jack Frost? Ugh…

Luckily her age hadn't deterred her belief in me, because she told me straight up one Sunday afternoon, "It's a known fact you're real. Why wouldn't I believe in you?"

Sadie still retained that childlike demeanor, however. White was still her favorite color, she got excited over the smallest positive thing, she still begged for things like she did when she was ten, and once or twice I'd catch her playing with the mirror by making faces to it. To the point where it was actually sort of amusing.

...Don't tell Alice Sadie and I both were making faces in the mirror. It was raining outside and we were bored.

Sadie had grown into a smart young lady, and unlike Alice where patience was her center, Sadie...was a nutcase. Okay, that's putting it harshly. Her center clearly revolved around passion. I'm not meaning the romantic type, I mean passion for things like freedom and equality and justice.

One night after a snowstorm, a few weeks into January, Alice and I were in her room-don't think too hard on that-and Sadie was in the living room watching television. Out of nowhere, she started screaming in fury, "Damn right you're sent to prison! For corrupting your fellow politicians and bringing your town to shame, you asshole! Go to jail so some big guy with an ugly tattoo will make you his bitch!"

Alice looked at me with narrow eyes and folded her arms after Sadie's rant, "Now. Where did she learn that language?"

"The school bus." My response was a little too quick.

I think Sadie has heard me drop a few phrases of curses here and there. Bitch is her favorite word. Alice heard her swearing up a storm once she actually slapped the back of her head with a magazine and told her if she didn't stop she'll kick her outside until dusk.

Having a teenager around certainly was different than a child, despite keeping some childish traits. Sadie no longer was short and no longer had those cheeks with baby fat. She was slender, almost like Alice but not exactly her height yet. Sadie let her hair grow all the way down her back, preferring to have it in one long braid or just loose. She grew an interest in what's called...boho? No. Bohemian? I can't recall, but her choice of apparel was very grunge and artist like, and she loved clothings from different cultures, like Nepal and India.

Tooth would like her for her interest and passion in other cultures. Sadie would grow up to be a fine worker of international relations and activist. But so far Sadie's only interest is her family, friends, and her art and history classes at school. Good thing she's keen on her studies. As long as I'm around, no student's going to be slacking off in my presence.

Sure enough, Sadie's birthday would be rolling around and she'll be turning fifteen, and older and older she'll get along with Alice.

That scared me to death, knowing that they're aging and I'm not. What will I become when they're in their sixties? Just...just a memory? A daydream that they wish was still around? Even if I was I would feel so guilty for not doing something. It's not like I could give them immortality.

Or maybe...or maybe I can!

I was walking through the woods when I was deep in thought, waiting for the girls to come home from a party. I physically stopped at the idea.

"That's it! That's exactly what I could do! I could go to one of the older spirits and beg for them to become immortal! They'd have to agree to that!" I almost jumped in a circle with excitement and started gloating to myself, "Oh, you've done it now, Pitch! Wait until they hear this plan, it's brilliant!"

"Not so brilliant, I'm afraid."

...That better not be who I think it is.

Sure enough, it was. Jack Frost. Jack...Fucking...Frost. Whoop dee doo. I rolled my eyes as I saw him lying on his back on a tree branch, freezing autumn leaves solid with his toes.

Now it's time to take my leave.

Just as I was about to head out of the forest and to the house again, I heard Jack call, "Wait, Pitch!"

"What?!" I turned to snarl at him.

He wasn't phased by my bite. He looked awkward with his shepherd's crook behind his back as he walked towards my place. He looked pitiful. What an idiot.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in on your thoughts." he tried holding out his hand, but I hid mine behind my back. No way am I touching him. No.

"Why are you even here? Spying on me…" I grumbled, looking away.

Jack sighed and switched his grip to his left hand with the wooden staff, kicking up leaves as we walked towards the house. I really didn't want him following me. I'd rather have Sandy around griping at me than this mixed bag of nuts.

"Well, I wanted to see what you do on a daily basis with Alice and Sadie. Since Jamie's all grown up and goodness knows where, I thought I'd observe how you-"

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa!" I stopped him, staring at him in horror, "Who told you?! My business with the girls was only known between me and…"

Jack grinned, liking the look on my face that went from confusion to absolute anger. I growled and looked up at the sky, "That little dust bin is dead."

"Pitch, it's okay," Jack hopped into the sky and flew in front of me as I started storming forward, "He explained everything. I mean it, everything. Sure, North wasn't too pleased and Bunny was pretty pissed, but I get it."

I looked at him oddly, "You...you do?"

Now I know Jack Frost. I think you know I know Jack Frost. He's my enemy, of course, and nothing would change that. Yes, I was very skeptical and very guarded by his odd sense of kindness he was showing me. I thought any second he'd whip out a snowball and pelt me, or make some snide comment about my defeat and then take off before I could break his spine in half. I knew he was capable of immense power if he summed up enough of it, I knew he makes a mess wherever he goes, I knew he was trouble, a mischief maker, and adores children.

But I didn't know he'd side with me on the fight Sandy and I had.

"Sure," he shrugged, "Granted, you're a lying, slimy asshat and I could never forgive you for nearly destroying us," that made me cringe, but he continued, "But I understood where you were coming from when you stood up to Sandy."

"Really." I asked doubtfully, giving him a suspicious eye.

He held up his hands honestly, "Really. There are times I wish I had connections like you have with them. I get it, caring about family. You love them. It's not that hard to understand."

I must've given some sort of look that I still wasn't trusting him, that he could freeze me any second because he sighed in defeat and dropped back down to the ground, putting his hands in his hoodie.

"I suck at apologies, alright? I'm not going to say it. But because you've helped us gain some belief by Alice...well, we're neutral. Ish."

I scoffed, folding my arms. "Fine. I only did it for Alice, not for you."

"And Sadie." Jack grinned widely.

That made me smirk. "Yes, and Sadie."

"Hey, speaking of Sadie, how's she doing? Sandy's missed her a lot. He's changed these past couple of years."

I folded my hands behind my back as we walked towards the house, the lights all on and noises of cookery sounding inside. Frost walked along side, a hidden smile on his face that I hadn't noticed yet.

"She's doing well. She's grown up, very independent," I smirked at him, "Like you."

"Cool," Frost grinned up at me, "Does she know I exist?"

I nodded slowly, and that made him excited. Can't say I blame him, the euphoric feeling of belief was always welcome no matter what age someone was at. He continued to show interest in my girls, mostly about what they do on a daily basis. I told him Alice's job, Sadie's excellent skills in school, and Alice's support of the family. She was like the roman pillar that held up the roof when the other two cracked to ruins, and how she was allowing me to help her with some of the weight. Especially since Sadie's a rowdy teenager, it was more hectic than ever. Her energy was like dealing with three crazy triplets of little Sadie's.

"So, back to your 'immortality' thing," Frost started, swinging his staff over his shoulder.

"Yes, you bluntly said it wasn't a good idea. Shouldn't I know that better than you?" I sneered at him, but he shrugged.

"You should, but I get that you're desperate."

I glared at him, "I'm not desperate."

Frost gave me a knowing look, clearly stating that I was. I growled and looked away, muttering, "Fine. What's your reasoning? Not like I want to hear it."

Frost simply started anyways despite me making it clear I didn't care what he thought, "Well, for starters you don't want to go around telling other spirits you're in this predicament. Secondly, there's no spirit besides Man in Moon that can do that, and I doubt he'll listen to you since he's the one that made the rules."

"Damn…" I muttered, looking up at the sky. No moon out, but that didn't mean he wasn't watching.

"How long have you and Alice been together? Like, four years?" he asked.

I groaned, wishing his incessant chattering would stop. Now I was glad he never joined my side against the Guardians because this little brat talked up a storm, more than Sadie could ever in a lifetime. He continued on about how I was wasting my breath and time, and that sooner or later Alice is going to find someone else that won't be immortal.

Well that topic made me panic again. Hey, I had a reason to snap at him.

"Will you shut up already?!" I snapped at him.

But at the last moment, at the edge of the forest, I saw a sight that could never be erased from my memory. Jack stood still, looking between me and the two people outside. He finally rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, as if he knew the entire story I was watching.

Sandy was there. So was Sadie, and by her face she was genuinely surprised seeing him.

Jack wasn't kidding. Sandy really had changed. Mostly in physical appearance. He was taller, just inches taller than Sadie herself. He must've morphed his form during those four years, and believe me that metamorphosis for a spirit takes ages to do. How he was able to gain energy while transforming his body in just a minimum of four years, I had no idea.

His face was less round than before and his nose was more humanly sculpted, but nonetheless he was still recognizable. His sand body gave an appearance of Indian trousers and the signature folded jacket he had, and his shoes curled.

He...he didn't do all this for Sadie...did he?

I looked at Jack, who winced. "You don't mind I was a distraction, right?"

I growled, "I'll kill you later."

Not wanting to watch this display, nor embarrass Sadie with whatever she was discussing with Sandy, I melted into the shadows. Finally, away from Jack Frost.

Sadie stared, open mouthed. She looked Sandy up and down for the third time. Despite being known as a loud talkative person, no words could describe how she was feeling or what she wanted to say to him. She wanted to hug him and cry because she's missed him so long, she wanted to laugh because of the absurdity of her silence, she wanted to punch Sandy in the stomach for skipping out on her for four freaking years when she needed him most.

"You're...you're back." she stammered, looking into his golden eyes.

He shyly smiled and nodded, looking up through his lashes like a puppy. Sadie found it too adorable for her own good.

I never really left. He touched her hand, but she withdrew. She couldn't look at him, just at the wooden fence of the patio.

"No. You left. Four years and I was alone when I needed you most," Sadie said, looking at the ground with bitterness, "I told you how I felt when I was ten years old and you left because you were disgusted with me."

His fingertips touched her mouth, silencing her. She looked up at him, still angry. He looked mournful, like four years of regret and guilt were finally pouring out of him.

I left for bad reasons that I thought were in the name of your safety. It's bad for humans to love spirits-

"Big excuse," she muttered under his fingertips, "Pitch broke that rule and he's still around. Why couldn't you?"

Because you were young. There were other boys more worthy than me, and I misjudged your feelings as just childish crushing. Sadie, I really did care about you. Do. Why do you think you've never had a single nightmare despite practically living with the Boogeyman?

Sadie couldn't think of a response fast enough for Sandy's liking, so he continued. Now he wasn't just signing or having text float above his head, he was mouthing it. Sadie knew how to lip read, thank goodness for Sandy. She knew sign language as well, mostly from school, but Sandy was too desperate to sign everything that was on his mind.

I never left, Sadie. Physically I did but I would never leave you in any other way. I kept my promise that you would be safe. I always will-

"That's not enough, Sandy," Sadie broke away from him, fighting back tears, "You left for four years. I missed you. I almost gave up on you. But I couldn't, because I really did care about you."

Sandy stepped forward, But-

"But nothing!" Sadie yelled, tears building up in her blue eyes, "You hurt me worse than you thought, Sanderson. I needed you around. I'm still that outcast at school with minimal friends because I still believe in childish fantasies. You never kept me safe in daylight, only when I was asleep! At school I'm harassed by jocks and ridiculed by the teachers for being too liberal and independent. Who was I to go to when I cried? Who could I have possibly gone to that knew how to comfort me and be there?"

Sandy looked down at his slippers, ashamed.

"I couldn't go to Pitch because he'd be angry. Not at me, but he'd go after people and punish them, and the last thing I would want is for people to get hurt because of me. I couldn't go to Alice because she'd try to reason with me why maybe I'm the victim and she ends up sounding like the teachers. You were the only one I knew that let me cry on your shoulder when I needed it, you were there every moment I needed you…"

Sadie's voice fell...she couldn't go on. She didn't have the heart to. Tears were running down her face, and she stubbornly wiped them away, angry at herself for being so weak. Selfish! Self centered! She scolded herself, You make this all about you! How DARE you! How could you do that to him!?

She cried. She tried holding it back, but those four years of loneliness came rushing forth in the form of her tears, and she couldn't stop it. Horrible flashbacks of her lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for those dreamsand images to come hurt her. The images of her writing letters to Sandy she'll never send before throwing them into the trash, of drawing his face until it burned into her brain, thinking that if he had a voice what would it sound like? Lulling and soothing? Musical? Gravely and tough?

Gentle hands touched the sides of her cheekbones, and she looked up, not expecting to see Sandy's face close to hers, noses almost touching.

Without a warning, he softly kissed her, soft as a butterfly's touch. It was one of those kisses that was so gentle it made her heart soar that her wish was fulfilled.

His kiss lingered before he pulled away, looking into her eyes and letting his thumb wipe away her tears.

Do you accept my apology?

Sadie stared at him, not fully processing what was happening. When her brain finally comprehended Sandman's kiss, she clung to him in a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her, gently rubbing her back in circles.

"Don't leave me again. Promise."

Under Man in Moon's watch, I promise.

[cosmicflowchart]

Move A Little Closer - Stefan Butler/Reader

Summary: You work up the courage to say hi to that cute boy at the record shop. Warnings: drug mention, mild swearing Word Count: 2,044

You always seem to end up in the record store at the same time as him. Every day or so, he comes in with a list, always on the same type of paper, always wearing the same coat, his eyes downcast and shy. He leaves with a different record every time, and you don’t always catch which one he gets. But he always seems to go to the same section.

You have yet to talk to him.

Today is overcast and dreary but there’s no chance of rain. Thank God, you tell yourself. You’d been caught without a hood in a downpour more than once. You’ve bundled up a little since the temperature’s been dropping over the past few weeks, and whatever few trees are left in this part of town have started changing colors. It’s beautiful in a sad kind of way. The leaves fall off, the trees die, but they don’t really. They grow new leaves as the spring comes and suddenly they’re alive again, as if nothing happened. Maybe something has changed in them, and they’ve grown a few new branches, or their roots have grown deeper, but on the surface it’s the same set of trees.

Your eye drifts to the clock on the wall, numberless and modern, its black hands ticking away slowly. He’s going to come in soon.

Okay, when you think of it like that, it sounds creepy. Maybe it is. But it wouldn’t be if you, you know, talked to the guy.

As you admonish yourself, pretending to flip through records, someone pushes open the door, hands buried in their pockets. He looks around before spotting the section he’s looking for. You make yourself look away; he’ll catch you staring if you keep looking at him like that. He pulls out a list from his pocket and scans the records, thin but quick fingers moving each one. His black curls sit right above his eyes, blocking them as he looks downward.

Kajagoogoo’s “Too Shy” crackles from the shitty old speakers mounted on the walls. You hate that you know every word to this song. It seems to play at the same damn time every time you’re in here--and every time you see him. Maybe the owners or workers saw you come in and basically stalk this guy, and they want to tease you.

Something compels you closer. You aren’t sure what it is, but suddenly you’re walking his way.

You’re aware of how close you’ve gotten almost too late. Thankfully, you snap back to reality and turn to the records. This isn’t really your section, but he doesn’t need to know that. You pull an old list from your pocket.

Actually, now that you’re looking at it, some of the records you hadn’t scratched off might still be here. This place is known for keeping track of their stock, but a good “older” album (anything older than a year, really) might have stuck around.

You flip a few of the records yourself, looking for an excuse to talk to him. Up close you notice his eyes are green, perhaps hazel, but even though they’re not looking at you (yet), you can tell they’re vibrant, keen even. Judging by the music he’s looking through, he’s a bit of an intellectual--pretentious, maybe, but he seems too reserved to be annoying about it. Internally, you sigh in relief.

“Did you see anything by Isao Tomita in here?” you ask him. He jumps a little as he notices you. You give him a small smile and wait for him to answer. He looks back at the records and flips through a few.

“I-I don’t think so,” he murmurs. He’s not uncomfortable though, at least you’re not getting that vibe. More intimidated, if you had to guess at it. He looks back at his list.

“Well, this friend of mine wanted me to pick up this album by that guy,” you add. “Never heard of him before.”

“Wait,” he suddenly stops you. He turns to you again. “Tomita? Did you write down the album?” You hum quietly and scan your list.

“The Bermuda Triangle. With a name like that, it’s either going to blow my mind or bore my mind,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s, actually that’s...that’s weird,” he stumbles over his words. Goddamn he’s cute. You get this way with new people too, though mostly with hot people. You’re surprised at how composed you are right now (on the outside, at least). “I have that on my list too. You said your friend recommended it?”

“Recommended? More like insisted. He’s been trying to get me into music like this, but I’m more of a classic rock fan.” As you talk, you flip through the albums in front of him, your arm accidentally brushing his. He stiffens. “Sorry,” you apologize, your shyness coming back. “Well, now I really want to find it.”

“Not if I find it first,” he jokes. You snort, and he looks at you in confusion. “What?”

“That was funny, so I laughed,” you explain. His mouth’s hanging slightly open, and he’s staring at you. Is that how you’d stared at him before?

“Oh. That’s good,” the corners of his mouth pull up as he nods slightly.

You flip through more albums before realizing you’ve just checked the same set of albums three times. You sigh. “Can we switch places?” you request. He’s stuck his hands back in his pockets, you suspect he’s watching you and he’s forgotten the music. “If this is in alphabetical order by artist instead of album title, it might be further down the line.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, and steps back to let you in front. He then steps to your side. You thumb quickly through the albums. A few flips later, his finger suddenly juts out, touching one of the covers. “Found it.”

You look over at him in surprise. He sees how close he’s come and steps back, apologizing softly. “No, hey, don’t be sorry,” you tell him and pull out the album he’d touched. “You found it. Maybe now my friend can stop being a pretentious little shit bag and recommend some good music.”

“How do you know it’s not good if you haven’t listened yet?” he wonders. You look at him, surprised. You shouldn’t be, really, he seems smart underneath that sweet, anxious expression. But you grin anyway, impressed. Cute and smart. He’s sounding more perfect by the second.

“You may have a point,” you digress. “If you’re looking for it, it must be good. You look like you have an amazing taste for music.”

He chuckles and his head tilts down. “Thank you,” he looks back up at you, though he’s hesitating to look back in your eyes.

You hold the album out to him.

He looks down at it, then meets your eyes, then the album, then your eyes. “Wait, you’re...really? I thought you…”

“I’ll pay for it, but I’m giving it to you,” you tell him with a confidence you don’t remember having before.

“But you were in here first, you’ve been looking longer,” he resists politely. “You can have it.”

An idea pops into your head. You look down at the album. “Alright. I’ll take it, then. But on one condition.” His face presses together in worry. “No, no, it’s not bad, I promise. I just…” You can’t look at him for a moment. You gather the courage and perk up. “I’ll be honest, I’ve seen you come in here, a lot. We seem to come in around the same time every few days, I know that sounds really creepy, but I’ve never had the nerve to say hi before, or even ask your name. Sorry for being kind of pushy.”

“I didn’t think you were at all,” he shakes his head at this.

“Oh okay, good,” it’s your turn to blush. His eyes are green, you notice now, and the way they’re focused on you rocks you to your core. You can’t recall anyone ever looking at you like that before. You almost don’t want him to leave. “Um, well, the condition was…” you start but don’t finish. “Sorry.” He watches you, no judgment in his features. You relax a little and try again. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know your name yet! I should’ve probably started with that, sorry.”

“I’m Stefan,” he tells you, his lips parting, and you notice a few of his front teeth are crooked. You resist the urge to clutch your chest and fall to the ground.

“Stefan. I like that name,” you tell him back and he’s blushing again. “I’m (y/n). Do you shake hands?”

“Oh, uh, I can,” he stammers a little. “I’m just, I fidget a lot,” his hands come out of his pockets and they press together as if to demonstrate, “sorry.”

“I fidget too,” you shrug. His eyes light up, as if they weren’t already blazing before. “No worries if you don’t want to. I don’t always like making contact with strangers. Physical contact, I mean, I did just talk to you randomly, so I guess I did make contact.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “What’s your name again? Sorry, you said it but I’ve forgotten. I’m so bad at this.”

“Hey, I’m pretty bad at making friends too. My name’s (y/n).”

He repeats the name. “That’s nice, I like that name.” You’re pretty sure you’ve already died internally from how cute he is, but now you’re a little worried you’re going to die externally too.

“That’s really sweet, Stefan. You just made my whole day.”

“You made mine too,” he smiles back. God, you both probably look like dorks, but you really don’t care. You have a new friend, or more, depending on how things go.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t get to the condition yet,” you remember suddenly.

“Condition?” he’s forgotten already. You chuckle a little.

“For giving me the album back. If you let me buy this for myself, do you want to go get coffee or something? Do you drink coffee?”

“Tea, actually.”

“I know a place nearby that sells local brands,” you offer.

“Are you offering or demanding?”

“...Yes?”

“I’d love to,” he grins.

“Okay then! I’ll go buy this and we’ll walk over, yeah?” He nods in affirmation and the two of you head for the counter.

After buying it, you leave, and Stefan runs a little bit to catch up with you. You slow your pace so he doesn’t have to jog to keep up.

“Can I ask something?” he starts chatting with you.

“Go for it.”

“What’s your friend’s name? The one who wanted you to get that.”

“Colin.”

“Colin as in, Colin Ritman?”

“Don’t know, I don’t think I ever found out his last name. Don’t ask how I know him, we’re just casual buddies,” you throw up your hands, looking around to see if there are any cops. Seeing none, you keep talking.

“I work with him.”

“Wait. Colin Ritman, as in, Tuckersoft Colin Ritman? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” his face lights up as you recognize the name. You get the sense he doesn’t do this much, and you also wonder if this is an excuse to possibly info-dump. You kinda hope that it is.

“Well, shit. Didn’t know I sold pot to Colin Ritman.”

“Wait, you what?”

“Forget I said that,” you wave a hand at him as you both round a corner. “I’ve only played a few of his games. Commodore, mostly.”

Stefan gasps quietly, making you laugh. “Sorry, I, uh, I’ve played everything but his Commodore games.”

“Dream come true, then?”

“Yeah. Do you mind if I, uh, tell you about the game he’s working on right now?”

“Only if it’s not a huge company secret.”

“Um...it might be, I don’t know.”

“Hell, I’m not gonna tell anyone. You’re probably my only friend.”

“That’s weird, you seem like you’d have loads of friends.”

“It would appear the plan is working. No one knows I’m a giant fucking nerd,” you deadpan, and he laughs, and your heart soars. “Tell me about his new game. I like hearing you talk.”

“Really? Thank, thank you,” he fidgets a little with his hands. “It’s called Nohsdyve, and the sprite work is really smooth…”

A/N: Hi there, I’m gonna get to Colin once I figure out how to write something that isn’t a million parts long. I keep wanting to do something with the reader or Colin remembering shit about each other from other endings/timelines, but that always gets complicated (and it’s been done a bunch of times before). Might just go for straight fluff to start with him, then move up a bit. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, give this a like if you did, and follow if you want to read more!

[cleverbroadwayurl]

Chiaroscuro Portraiture (Connor Murphy x Artist!Reader)

Word Count: 3070

A/N: Okay so I attempted to get this done because I felt bad about not posting so uhh if this isn’t what you wanted, please tell me and I will fix it. I tried to kinda do like what McEwan does in Atonement because let’s be real that fluffy language is amazing. But uhh yeah again: I do take criticism if it’s not up to your standards, just let me know!

Trigger Warnings: uhh kissing, language, Zoe being angry, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Taglist: @catatonic-kuragin 

Connor didn’t mean to take a shower at 1:30 in the morning. It just sort of happened. He didn’t mean to walk past Zoe’s room when the door was cracked, it just happened. And he definitely didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the events unfolding second by second. It just kinda happened.

Of course, the staying behind to continue to listen to the conversation was a conscious decision. He’d made himself comfortable, perfectly unseen in the hallway by you and Zoe, just outside the cracked door that emitted a sliver of light. You two had been doing this for years, since before eighth grade. God, was that right? You’d been best friends with Zoe for over 4 years? He shrugged the thought off as he lowered himself to the floor, choosing to sit—sitting wouldn’t attract attention, wouldn’t make any extra noise. It would swear him to secrecy, which is exactly what he wanted. While each sentence that left your lips was inaudible, Zoe was loud. She knew her entire house would be asleep, well, unless Connor himself didn’t feel like it. But she also knew that he wouldn’t walk over and tell her to shut up. Not with you here, at least. “Oh! I remember this!” she exclaimed, followed by bangs and crashes. “Your old sketchbook! I wanna see your progress! Show me!”

That’s right, that yellow book that was bound with little metal pieces. The special paper that never seemed to flap in the wind but could catch shading like nobody’s business. He could remember you sitting in biology at the large black tables, eyes squinted in concentration towards the back of the classroom where the windows were. He always assumed you were drawing the spidery veins of branches outside, noticing how with each passing cold day, they would get bleaker and bleaker, until he assumed you were drawing something that would look like broken glass on a page. But in the summer, at the beginning of the school year, the leaves canopied the trail that the track and cross-country assholes would take to “condition” for their meets. As the year would go on, the trail would be used less and less; around Halloween, it was always muddy, and then always covered in gross slush by the time Winter came along. He assumed you liked to draw in the footprints of the poor people who had to still use those trails after a particularly rainy day. He guessed it would make for a cool drawing, at the very least.

He could remember you doing that a lot, noticing in the fall light how your hair perfectly framed your face, the light hitting it in such a way that almost made you look more delicate than those glass figurines that his mom had collected when he and Zoe were babies. Your eyes would scrunch at the windows, getting that new twig barely notable by the passing eye, but everything to you. You must’ve drawn those same trees often—Connor didn’t usually pay attention to his classmates, but he could distinctly remember you sketching like that, day after day. That had to mean you did it often. So yeah, Zoe had a point; your art must’ve gotten better as the years went on and as you kept pulling it out to do a new study of some new art term Connor had never heard before.

Connor could also remember you in his house sometime over the summer, or was it last year, sketching something in the room. Zoe would always claim to be studying with you as he lazily made a sandwich after his hellish school day, and yet somehow still irritating Zoe. He could remember you trying to capture how the light just barely lit the room in a golden glow and attempting to get each curve and angle of the room just right. He assumed you used softer leaded pencils for the walls, giving it texture that it deserved. If Connor didn’t know any better, you’d be getting into some high class college for architecture, right angles so sharp you could swear it would prick your finger by just running it over the page.

And there was of course the library. You’d always sketch in the library. Sitting at the same table, you’d construct your artistry with nothing more than imagination, a pencil, and some special paper. He’d only been in there to get a book, any book, to convince someone that he was actually doing work and actually trying. Maybe do something for his mom for once, or perhaps himself. But you were there, carefully crafting your version of the bookstacks and cases around you. It was a solid 20 minutes of him looking before he could hear you uncap that special pen with the felt tip and black ink that could stain every piece of paper if you weren’t careful enough. The angles must have been perfect that time; pen is permanent. With another glance at the aisle Connor had been in, he spotted the book he needed: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. A nod to the librarian, and a quick glance back at you, he was off.

And then—

“Wait a second. Why are most of these done as portraiture? You hate drawing faces. And more importantly, why are they of Connor?!”

Connor misheard something. He had to have. When did you have the time, the effort, or even the means to draw him? Zoe was right, why draw him when he wasn’t anything special? Silence didn’t last long, Zoe’s demanding continuing.

“Some of these are dating like months, fuck, years ago?!”

He finally heard your voice through the cracked door as his eyes remained wide and trained onto one of the hardwood floorboards. “Zoe I can explain.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Zoe—”

“I’m serious, don’t go in depth about how much you adore my brother. I don’t want to hear it.”

Zoe bolted out of the room, completely missing Connor outside of her door as she did so. She stepped down the stairs quickly, stomping on every step as she did so, her steps almost percussive as her anger. The door nearly slammed in the draft that followed her speed, but Connor caught the white door with his foot, carefully making sure that it wouldn’t slam and actually wake up the whole house. With that same foot, he opens the door a little wider so he can actually peer in, curious about the sketches in question.

The only light that’s on is Zoe’s bedside lamp. There’s a soft glow around the room, similar to lighting a dozen candles and leaving them as the sun sets past twilight into dusk. The colorful clock against the pink shaded lamp says a harsh 2:06 AM. Had he really been out there for half an hour? His eyes shift to you, who is crumpled on Zoe’s bed. He doesn’t need to look closer to know, to understand that you’re upset. You’d just caused some kind of conflict between you and your best friend of however many years it’d been now. It probably looked like you betrayed Zoe, using her only to get to him. It’s at this moment that Connor decides to slowly step in, but is wary of the things that are on the ground.

Your sketchbook catches his eye, the beat up book open to a sketch of him, the shadows of his face darkened by a bold marker, the lights done by a hard leaded pencil. The date underneath the drawing is marked last week, showing off your progress beautifully. Connor can’t come up with any words at first. It’s…perfect, which sounded dumb to him. It perfectly took each aspect of Connor and threw it onto a page. If anyone looked at it, they would easily be able to tell exactly what Connor was like, exactly what his mannerisms were, and they would be able to easily distinguish one mood from another. It’s almost a brighter version of himself staring back at him, one who looks so confident but so lost. And Connor remained speechless, unsure of how to express his feelings.

Another minute went by before he actually said something: “Fuck, that’s really good.” A sniffle practically erupts from you before you look up at him. The two of you make eye contact, and in a swift attempt to grab the book, it ends up in Connor’s slender fingers. He begins thumbing through the pages, his eyes grazing over each and every line, every erased mark, every place you’d used pen instead of pencil, each shading variation, each curl you’d drawn; every single time you chose to draw him in a different light than he could’ve ever imagined. None of them were did in color, almost as if you were preserving the pages, as if you’d scan them in and color them digitally so you could get the blending just right. His eyes flew over dates as he kept turning, pupils dilating at each new sketch; the first drawing he’d seen was dated a little over a year and a half ago.

Then there’s one he can place; it must’ve been an exam day or something in biology because he could see the trees behind him, each branch perfectly placed, almost like someone had altered a photo rather than drawn it out. The leaves were somewhat there, the lush summer branches fading away into fall. But they’re there enough that Connor knows this was drawn at the beginning of the year—only some of the leaves are shaded in to show their differing colors. Purple was done in a dark grey, a softer lead, while green leaves were almost stark white, done in a harder leaded pencil. They were outlined beautifully by a pen, or perhaps many different pens.

Then it hits him—you didn’t care about the trees. You weren’t getting the perfect pitch of the ceilings in the kitchen that sat downstairs, memories burning onto the sketchbook’s pages. You weren’t trying to capture the world in a new light. You had been trying to get him in different shadings—a test in chiaroscuro. He had to hand it to you, each sketch was done artfully, completely taking each curve of his face and each line flowing directly into another, but in such a way you’d gotten every little thought that had ran through his head on that particular date. Connor’s heart started beating a little harder as his hands got a little sweaty, eyes still trained on one particular drawing and the way the pen swirled on the page. He licked his lips before speaking up again, not even bothering to tear his eyes away. “All of them are actually, really fucking good.”

He heard you shift forward, Zoe’s bed making that too familiar creak he usually heard from the other side of the wall. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he finally looked up and locked eyes with you. It was obvious you were upset—which was a dumb thought, Connor realized. Of course you were upset. Your best friend just stormed out of the room and down the stairs because you’d been artfully drawing wonderful images of her brother. Pink surrounded the color of your eyes, your waterline more prominent than Connor had ever seen before. It was his turn to study your face, each contour in the dull light of the stupid pink lamp Zoe had gotten when she had turned 13. Your facial features cracked, a smile finally escaping through the blurry clouds that had been drawn up around you. “I mean, I’m not an art critic or anything, but I love them.”

“Oh.” It was a suppression of something, Connor couldn’t tell what—your eyes flicked to the floorboards. “Thank you.”

He nodded before stepping forward, wire bounded notebook being extended out towards you. You took it gently, almost as if the moment would be ruined by sharp, abstract movements. There was a moment of nothing, your eyes meeting his again, before you started going through the drawings just as Connor had. No words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be, as he sat down on the bed next to you, admiring your hard work. He hadn’t gone through all of them, that much was apparent even in the darkness. Your style changed as the dates became more and more present, almost grabbing Connor in a new way that he couldn’t even fathom—when he was in a bad mood, the lines were sharp, almost making him look stuck in an abstract world that consumed him. You had started to include white pencil to highlight the lights of his face and the darks that seemed to surround him at any given point. There was one that Connor had been smiling, the stark contrast of grid to fluid making itself clear. White colored pencil littered that page, giving his cheeks and overall vibe almost a sunshine attitude. He wasn’t even sure how you’d done that, how you’d caught him smiling so long that you actually could draw it out. Your latest date appears, only two days ago before you start to close the book.

There’s a moment of nothing, completely dullness except the yellow that blanketed the room. With another beat, he looks up, a newfound fondness of you completely taking over, heart ablaze like someone had used your sketchbook as kindling for something—anything other than numbness. It’s now that Connor realizes he was leaning into you, getting closer and closer until this very second—faces inches apart and eyes scanning, searching, almost fleeing around memorizing each color of your eyes. The pink is almost gone, and you start to lean forwards, eyes not deciding what they want to look at: his eyes or his lips. The space is closing more and more, the process expedited as Connor begins to mirror your actions, the moonlight outside now seeming like the only thing that’s illuminating in the room. Before proceeding, he pulls away for a second, deciding that maybe he was just misreading cues from you. You could just be trying to get up to find Zoe, soon leaving the house and out of Connor’s life. But he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want this to end, he wants to know the curves of your face, the way you look when everything is geometric and scheduled and when everything is fluid and free, the white pencil contrasted with the black marker, each level of shading on your face. He wanted to know you at your lightest and darkest, when the leaves are lush to the leaves die and make the windows look cracked from the inside. It’s another moment until he finally gets the grip he needs, asking you “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, hands already snaking around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. He resists for a second, a mumbled “I need a verbal yes or no. Otherwise I worry that I crossed a boundary,” escaping him.

“Yes,” is exhaled from you onto Connor’s lips, giving him full access to everything he didn’t know he needed or fuck wanted until this moment. There’s a level of softness to the moment your lips grazed his, the laziness of the night consuming both of you. Relaxation seeps into the kiss as it deepens, providing a sense of warmth that could only be described as rosy cheeks and whipped cream. It’s here that Connor realizes that his heart had skipped a beat, the pink organ working in tandem with yours, blossoming into something spontaneous and wonderful with you. Connor’s hands glide from where they were to your face, almost capturing the light you’re giving him, an ability to feel like the sun is inside of his hands as the kiss deepens further. Everything is synched—a puzzle finally put together by warm light and soft touches. Something erupts in Connor and he can only hope the same from you, it’s a sense of fluff, a sense of complete and total comfort and security, almost as if someone had come in here and wrapped you and him in a blanket as silent snow fell outside. It was heated, like a warm shower after a night in the rain, but soft, sweet, something fluttering from inside into the outside. It was almost like this was something long awaited, and better than expected; far better than expected.

Footsteps stomped up the stairs, and the air turned cold, a firm reminder that the world could touch them. Connor already knew what it was—Zoe was coming back from making hot chocolate downstairs. The darkness of the room returned, almost blinding to Connor as he attempts to smoothly get out of the room before Zoe sees and gets even more upset. Purples plague the walls, steps coming louder and louder as he practically stumbles out of the room, hoping that his sister wasn’t looking up as she went upstairs. With a sharp glide out of the room and into the complete darkness of the void, Zoe slipped in and began to talk to you about something he couldn’t quite hear.

Shuffling down the hall so he isn’t heard, Connor recounts the events in his head. Maybe that had been a bad idea. Maybe the warmth around you two as you kissed was just something to dwell on but never have. Maybe it was better this way.

Fuck that. He slipped into bed, covering himself with the covers, still imagining your hands around him, circling him with warm light that rivaled sunlight at the end of the first warm day of spring after a harsh winter in the Northeast. He attempted to get that from his blankets, but couldn’t. He craved that moment now that he’d had a taste of it, every contradiction, line break, finally forming into a continuum, an image of your smiling self depicted by the lines that finally painted a beautiful picture of life. He needed everything you offered: the darks, the lights, the curves, the edges. Connor craved it as he rolled over, eyes closing for the night, the last image in his head of you artfully crafting him on the page before smiling at him in that way you always do. His heart skips a beat before falling into a smooth rhythm, breathing following the pattern as the world washed away in the golden light that consumed him.

[psychosistr]

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 7

Summary: Speedwagon arrives at the park to meet Jonathan, unprepared for the romantic evening that is about to be sprung upon him.

Notes: Sorry this chapter’s a little long, I just didn’t feel like breaking it up ^^”

Speedwagon pulled his pocket watch out and double-checked the time as he walked slowly to the park. He still had a few minutes to spare and didn’t want to be rude by arriving too soon. Jonathan had seemed pretty eager about this and Speedwagon would hate to arrive early and spoil the surprise.

Part of him was still anxious to find out what all of this was about. He was glad to finally get some answers, he just wasn’t sure what to expect. Earlier in the evening, he’d felt certain that Jonathan was thinking about leaving him to return to Erina, but then, in the kitchen, he’d sworn he wouldn’t leave Speedwagon with such sincerity and honesty that it made Speedwagon’s heart skip a few beats. The way he stared at Speedwagon and touched him certainly didn’t help matters either…

Speedwagon quickly shook those thoughts from his head. ‘No, no, stop thinkin’ like that! Jonathan just..got a bit too touchy again..no different than usual lately..’

Thinking that way did nothing for the butterflies in his stomach or the flutter of his heart as he remembered how close the two had stood to each other…how the coolness of Jonathan’s hand contrasted against his burning hot cheek…how Jonathan slowly leaned in closer, looking as if he wanted to ki-

“Bloody ‘ell, stop that!” Speedwagon quietly cursed at himself and slapped his cheeks a couple of times with his hands, glad that no one was around to see such a display. “It ain’t like that, so stop thinkin’ ‘bout it like it is!” He took a deep breath to compose himself and looked up at the full moon shining brightly in the sky. It was a calming, sobering sight- to see the moon shining as steadily as ever. He sighed and adjusted his hat slightly, hiding his eyes from the light above as he spoke sternly to himself. “Robert, y’ ‘opeless fool..just accept it ain’t gonna ‘appen. ‘e’s alive and calls y’ ‘is friend..that’s more ‘an enough.”

After taking one more deep breath to calm what remained of his flustered nerves, Speedwagon finished his walk towards the park. He saw Jonathan waiting at the gates for him, the cloak he’d grabbed earlier draped around him and the hood pulled up to hide his face from everyone else. Speedwagon would always recognize him, regardless of what he wore…

“Speedwagon!” Jonathan greeted him with an excited smile.  “I’m so glad you made it- right on time, too.”

Speedwagon smiled back, the joy Jonathan was radiating feeling highly contagious. “Course I made it- it’d be rude t’ keep a gentleman waitin’, right?” He offered with a tip of his hat.

Jonathan chuckled and pulled his hood down after making sure no one else was around to see. “I suppose it would, yes.” He took off the cloak fully, revealing two things: The first was that he had changed into the spare clothes he’d brought with him earlier, now wearing a much nicer white button up shirt, a dark red cravat, black pants, and a pair of polished dress shoes. The second was that the hand which was previously hidden beneath the cloak was holding a small bouquet of beautiful red roses wrapped in white paper. Jonathan held the flowers out towards Speedwagon with a charming smile. “Here, these are for you.”

Speedwagon tried to rationalize what was going on as he took the offered flowers. That fluttering feeling was returning with a vengeance and it was making red bloom across his cheeks despite his best efforts. “Oh, um, thank y’ kindly, Jonathan.” This felt almost like a- no, no, it couldn’t be…

Jonathan opened the gate for Speedwagon with a polite bow and a sweeping gesture of his free hand. “After you, Robert.”

“Thanks…” Speedwagon walked through, his head spinning slightly as it continued trying to rationalize what was going on. Jonathan hardly ever called him by his first name, and he was being EXTRA gentlemanly tonight.

Jonathan followed after him, walking alongside Speedwagon and even being so bold as to slip an arm around Speedwagon’s waist as they walked. He looked down at Speedwagon with an adoring smile, looking him over as if he was appraising a fine piece of artwork. “You look lovely tonight, Robert.”

Speedwagon’s face turned red at that- the remark catching him completely by surprise. “W-Wha’? I-I look the same as ever…”

Jonathan’s smile only grew, the hand around Speedwagon’s waist pulling him ever so much closer to Jonathan’s side. “I know.” The statement was simple, but the true meaning behind it was not lost on Speedwagon: Jonathan was implying that Speedwagon ALWAYS looked lovely.

Speedwagon pulled his hat down to hide his face from Jonathan’s fond gaze. ‘Wow..that’s..what the bloody ‘ell’s goin’ on here? The outfit, the roses, the way ‘e’s ‘oldin’ me..if I didn’ know any better, I’d swear this was a-’

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as Jonathan lead him up a small hill to their destination. Jonathan pulled back the hanging leaves of a weeping willow tree to reveal a small table set for two as if it was at a fancy restaurant: The white-cloth covered table was tiny, barely big enough for two people so it gave off a feeling of intimacy with how close the two chairs were to each other. A covered plate was already waiting on the table, along with a bottle of wine and the proper glasses and silverware. Then, in the middle of the table, there was a single lit candle that provided a tiny bit of additional light other than the bits of moonlight that filtered through the leaves above whenever the wind rustled the branches.

It was, by far, the most romantic thing that Speedwagon had ever seen.

When Jonathan pulled out a chair for him with a smile and a bow of his head, Speedwagon could only move numbly towards it and sit.

It was getting harder and harder to say this wasn’t a date…

~A few minutes before Speedwagon’s arrival~

Jonathan paced nervously by the gate to the park as he waited for Speedwagon’s arrival, running through a mental checklist of everything he’d prepared for the evening and how he had come to obtain it all.

‘Okay, the table is set…’

Jonathan knocked on the small dwelling that he knew quite a few residents of Ogre Street to reside at. Thankfully, one of the men he was looking for was the one to answer the door.

“Mr.Joestar?” Tattoo asked curiously when Jonathan lifted the hood of his cloak briefly to give Tattoo a peek of his face without letting any possible passerby’s see him. “Wha’ brings y’ ‘ere?”

Jonathan smiled nervously. “Sorry to impose, but I could use your help. Kempo Master’s as well, if you are both available.”

Tattoo invited him in with a jerk of his head and Jonathan followed. After Kempo Master was called into the room and any other residents were shooed out of it, Jonathan bashfully explained the gist of what he was looking to do for the evening. The whole time they listened, the two men had knowing smiles on their faces.

When Jonathan finished laying out his plan, Kempo Master nodded in understanding. “That is quite a lot to get done on such short notice.”

Jonathan sighed as he reached into his pocket. “I know, that is why I need your help to make it happen- I know I would not be able to do this on my own.” He pulled out a golden wedding ring from his pocket and held it out towards the other two men. “To help with funds, I would like you to sell this for me. You two may keep whatever money is left over as thanks for your help, as well as an apology for what you went through due to my ‘outburst’ before.”

Tattoo took the ring and stared Jonathan as if he was crazy. “Wha-?! Mr.Joestar, isn’ tha’ your-?”

Jonathan nodded, cutting off Tattoo’s exclamation. “It is. I am afraid it is the only possession I have that is worth much of anything. I wish I did not have to part with it, but, in the end, it is merely a symbolic trinket- the meaning and emotion it represents shall remain in my heart, for all eternity.”

Jonathan looked at the golden band with a fond smile. He would always love Erina, and their wedding would forever remain one of the happiest days of his life. But, in the end, the ring was merely an item. Many did not even exchange rings to prove they loved each other during such ceremonies, it was only the wealthy that did such things as a show of opulence. If doing this would bring more love and happiness into his life, then he was willing to part with the physical item, so long as he kept the emotional weight of it alive in his heart for the rest of his unnatural life.

“……” Kempo Master eyed the ring for a minute before standing up and walking out of the room. He returned a few minutes later with a small table and a pair of chairs. “You may use these for the night- that should help reduce the cost a little.”

Jonathan smiled gratefully as he looked at the small wooden furniture. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

‘The food should stay warm for at least another ten to fifteen minutes…’

Jonathan looked up from the cutting board he was using when he heard the door nearby open and close. He saw Tattoo entering the kitchen with a wooden box held in one of his large arms.

“Where’d y’ wan’ this, Mr.Joestar?” He asked while shifting the box from one arm to the other.

Jonathan gestured to a spot on the counter beside him. “Right there is fine. Thank you.” Jonathan then returned to slicing up the potatoes he had been working on before Tattoo walked in, trying to mentally recall the recipes he’d looked up to make sure he had everything he would need.

They had managed to find an inn with a kitchen that was willing to let them borrow their cookware and appliances in exchange for a few pounds. Jonathan happily agreed to this (after Tattoo and Kempo Master talked the inn keeper down in price, calling the man a con artist for trying to extort Jonathan out of more money than his time in the kitchen was truly worth) and got to work on the food for Speedwagon’s dinner.

Tattoo looked over the ingredients that Jonathan had already prepared, and the ones he’d been asked to pick up in the box. “You’re really goin’ all-out for ‘im, huh?”

Jonathan smiled softly as he worked, moving the cut parts of the potatoes aside to slice some meat that Tattoo brought him. “I feel that he is well worth it.”

Tattoo eyed him curiously, waiting idly for Kempo Master to return so they could get started on the next part of Jonathan’s plan. “ ‘e means a lot to y’, don’ he?”

Jonathan’s smile turned a touch bashful as he nodded, never taking his eyes off of his work. “He does. Speedwagon is…quite special. I honestly do not know what would have become of me if not for him..several times over, in fact..I want to make everything as perfect for tonight as possible. He deserves nothing less.”

Tattoo seemed pleased by that answer as he clapped a hand against Jonathan’s back with a grin. “Y’ should tell ‘im that- bet it’d ‘elp your case a bit.”

Jonathan smiled back at the other man, careful not to cut himself with the knife. “I shall keep that in mind.”

‘And the flowers look perfect…’

Jonathan lagged behind Tattoo and Kempo Master as the three headed to the park with their provisions for the night. Kempo Master carried the small box of silverware and other items for the table. Tattoo, being the strongest next to Jonathan himself, carried the table and chairs with ease. Jonathan carried the covered dinner plate, excited and hopeful about what was to come of it.

On their way to the park, Jonathan spotted a young girl out selling flowers from a cart. While Jonathan was slightly saddened to see a girl no older than ten or eleven out on her own at night trying to earn money, he was also struck with an idea.

Walking over to the young girl, Jonathan offered a polite bow of his head. “Pardon me, my lady, but would you happen to have any roses?”

The girl nodded eagerly, clearly excited to have a customer. “Uh huh! Would y’ like red or white, mistah?”

“The red, please.” Jonathan answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the remaining money he had for the night. Because of Kempo Master’s resourcefulness with the table and the way the two men had bartered with the innkeeper, Jonathan had plenty of money to spare for a gift.

After wrapping the flowers in a white piece of paper to make sure the thorns wouldn’t prick him, the girl handed the small bouquet of beautiful red roses to Jonathan. “Here y’ go, sir!”

“Thank you very much.” Jonathan smiled down at her and handed her plenty of money to cover the flowers, as well as a little bit extra. “Please, do keep the change and be sure to buy yourself something warm to drink tonight.”

The girl took the money and bowed her head gratefully. “Wow! I will! Thanks, mistah!”

Jonathan jogged a little to catch up to the other two, who had stopped to wait for him with knowing grins on both of their faces. “Sorry, I just-”

Tattoo waved his apology off casually with the hand that was balancing the chairs. “I’s fine, Mr.Joestar.”

Kempo Master nodded his agreement, apparently trying not to laugh at Jonathan’s bashful expression. “It was a good call- Speedwagon likes roses.”

Jonathan looked back up from the small bouquet. “Really? I had no idea.”

Tattoo shrugged as they resumed walking to the park. “Eh, ‘e don’ really bring it up. Gotta look tough when y’ live like we ‘ave. Every now an’ then, though, we’d catch ‘im stoppin’ t’ look at some or pickin’ up one someone dropped t’ stick in ‘is suit or ‘is ‘at.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He had bought the flowers completely on impulse, not knowing if Speedwagon would like them or not, simply feeling the need to give a token of his affections in a simple and pure way. He was relieved to know his intuition had guided him correctly and he’d found something that Speedwagon would like.

“Okay.” Jonathan took in a deep breath (more out of habit than a need for actual air anymore). “Everything is ready and it’s nearly time. All that is left is to go through with it. No running away. No second guessing myself. I WILL go through with this.”

His enhanced vampire hearing picked up the sound of footsteps approaching and he saw Speedwagon heading his way. Taking one last calming breath to steel his nerves, Jonathan greeted the other man with a smile, ready to put his plan into action.

~Shortly after Speedwagon’s arrival~

Jonathan sat across from Speedwagon at the small table, smiling contently. He gazed fondly while watching the blonde enjoy the meal that Jonathan had painstakingly prepared for him on such short notice. He had offered to hold the roses for Speedwagon as he ate, the two making small talk to ease tension from both parties involved.

“Mmmhh..” Speedwagon made a pleased sound as he ate a bite of the roast duck, quickly cutting himself another piece. “This food’s amazin’, Jojo!”

Jonathan smiled more at the praise, pleased to hear that his hard work was not wasted. “I’m glad you like it. I will admit, I was worried I might mess something up, seeing as it was my first time making something so elaborate.”

Jonathan’s eyes glanced down to the small feast he’d made for the evening: As a starter, he prepared some simple but refreshing cucumber finger sandwiches. Then, for the main course, the roast duck with a savory glaze that Speedwagon was currently enjoying. For the side dishes, a healthy helping of roasted mixed vegetables and potatoes au gratin (the potatoes had been the hardest part to prepare, but he was pleased with how they turned out). Finally, for dessert, after several failed attempts and burned batches, he had managed to make some simple homemade chocolates with various fruit fillings.

“Say, Jojo, I hate t’ be rude an’ ask..but..” Speedwagon swallowed his mouthful and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Where’d y’ get all this? It couldn’ ‘ve been cheap.”

Jonathan simply shook his head with a calm smile. “The price did not matter to me. I simply sold off something that I…no longer needed.” He reached across the table and carefully brushed a lock of Speedwagon’s long hair behind one of his ears. “Having the chance to treat you in such a way was more than worth the cost- worth more than anything, really.”

Jonathan felt as well as saw the blood rushing to Speedwagon’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a lovely shade of red on him that accentuated his cheekbones as well as the scar across his face in the most adorable way. Part of his mind wanted to run his lips and tongue across those blood-reddened cheeks and Jonathan honestly wasn’t sure which part of him it was, the human or the vampire. Either way, it was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to simply kiss the beautiful man sitting across from him.

“Y..Y’ don’ ‘ave t’ do stuff like this for me, y’ know..” Speedwagon answered while glancing away from Jonathan’s adoring gaze, bringing the brim of his hat down to cover the sight of those red cheeks from Jonathan’s view. “I’m plenty ‘appy with anythin’ y’ make for me…”

“I know..” Jonathan moved his hand up and slowly tipped Speedwagon’s hat back enough so they could look each other in the eyes again, Jonathan responding to Speedwagon’s flustered and confused expression with a soft smile. “But I wanted to do this for you.” His fingertips trailed down until his hand was tenderly cupping Speedwagon’s cheek, his thumb once again caressing that handsome scar. “I want to do this sort of thing for you more often: I want to sleep with you in my arms every day and wake to see your face every night. I want to cook meals that make you smile and sit and converse with you as you eat them. I want to bring you roses and other small gifts that bring you joy and spoil you any way I can. I want to stay by your side, doing those things, for as long as we both live.”

“J..Jonathan..” He felt Speedwagon’s heartbeat racing through his fingertips, could see the reluctant hope and confusion in his eyes even as his cheeks continued to burn red hot. “Is that..w..wha’ y’ wanted t’ say t’ me t’night..?”

“It is part of it, yes.” Jonathan admitted. He looked towards the flickering flame of the candle. “While you were away, before I was informed of the crash, I came to a rather startling discovery. You see, I took some time to organize and analyze my thoughts and feelings..and..well..I came to the conclusion that..” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes to steel his nerves once more, deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet and say it. He opened his eyes and looked directly into Speedwagon’s own. “I am in love with you, Robert.”

“?!!!” The way that Speedwagon’s eyes widened was almost comical. Jonathan briefly thought of how he hadn’t seen Speedwagon’s eyes in such a state since they’d fought Dio and seen his plethora of bizarre minions and monstrous creatures.

Jonathan smiled and gazed forlornly up at the sky through the moving leaves above them. “It took me so long to realize it, but, once I came to terms with it, it was like a dam burst within me. So many things I had been blind to before suddenly became clear as day. It was a bit terrifying, being so overwhelmed by that strong of a feeling, but it was also so uplifting. I wanted so badly to talk to you about it once you returned home, to open up to you and confess my deepest feelings..but..when I was told that you were dead..I..I lost myself..” He closed his eyes, remembering the bitterness and rage that consumed him. “I was consumed with regret. The thought that I would never get to see your face again was already hard enough, but to know, on top of it, that I never got a chance to tell you how I felt and to think of all the time I foolishly wasted by being blind to my own feelings..well, suffice to say it was far beyond unpleasant. I will admit that, during that time, a large part of me simply wished to give up living- both because I could not bear to go on by myself, and because I wished for a chance to simply be with you once more, even if it was in the afterlife.” He opened his eyes again, catching a passing glimpse of the moon over head. “When you returned, I knew I had to tell you, so as not to make the same mistake should similar misfortune happen again. My nerves got the better of me for a while, I am ashamed to say, which was why I invited you out tonight- I needed a setting which would force me to come clean to you.” He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lifted from his chest as he slowly looked back down to see Speedwagon’s face. “It is alright if you do not feel the same, I simply wanted to tell you how I-”

Jonathan froze at what he saw: Speedwagon was looking down at the table in front of him. The brim of his hat had slid down to hide his eyes once more. His lower lip was being held between his teeth and looked like it might start to bleed any moment now. The part that confused and worried Jonathan most, though, were the twin trails of tears shining wetly down Speedwagon’s face. Speedwagon mumbled something that Jonathan didn’t quite catch.

“What? Robert, I don’t understand, did I say something wro-” Jonathan was beyond worried now, but, before he had a chance to finish his question, Speedwagon stood up, knocking away Jonathan’s hand in the process and slamming both hands down on the table.

“Yes!” Speedwagon yelled, his voice raw and hurt and Jonathan couldn’t understand WHY. “Wha’ kind o’ sick joke are y’ playin’ at?! Who put y’ up to it?! Bet it was Tattoo and Kempo Master! Well, t’ ‘ell with the lot o’ y’!”

Speedwagon turned to leave, but Jonathan grabbed his arm, preventing him from doing so. “Wait! Robert, please, I don’t understand: What do Tattoo and Kempo Master have to do with this? Why would you think this is a joke?”

Speedwagon snatched his arm away, but didn’t move to leave again. “Oh please, this ‘as their stench all over it.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the table. “The cloth ‘ides it, but I KNOW that’s the table from their flat.” He moved his arm back around, his fists clenching at his sides. “Then there’s the roses- they’re the only ones that know I like the bloody flowers.” His arms came up, wrapping around and holding himself as if he was about to fall apart. “And..they’re the only ones..that’d know ‘ow badly I wanted t’ ‘ear those words from you…” His shoulders trembled and Jonathan could hear the sob in his voice. “It..I’s not fair, damn it! They knew I loved y’ since the day we met..an..an’ they still..god damn it, why’d y’ go along with somethin’ like that?!”

Jonathan’s eyes softened in understanding and he moved closer, wrapping his own arms around Speedwagon. His hands gently rested atop Speedwagon’s own and his forehead pressed tenderly to the back of the blonde’s golden locks. “Robert..nobody made me go along with anything. I will admit that Tattoo and Kempo Master helped me set everything up for the night, but I was the one who went to them for help because I wanted tonight to be perfect for you. Kempo Master allowed me to borrow the table, and I picked the roses out myself- though they did tell me about your preference for them afterwards.” He felt Speedwagon trembling in his arms and held him closer. “Besides, do you really think they would do something so cruel to you? They are your friends and they agreed to help me tonight because they care about your happiness.” He gently kissed the back of the other’s head, his tone of voice equally as gentle. “What’s more, do you truly believe that I, of all people, would do such a thing?”

Speedwagon’s response was a sniffle and a weak, barely audible “No.” He tilted his head further down as he sobbed quietly. “I just..I thought..you’d never..”

“I know.” Jonathan gently turned Speedwagon around in his arms to face him, the shorter man’s face still hidden by his hat and the angle at which his head was tilted “You tried to hide your feelings because you thought there was no way they would ever be reciprocated. That is what you meant years ago, when I returned, about ‘losing me twice already’, isn’t it? You felt you lost me once to Erina, and then again at sea.”

Speedwagon gave the tiniest of nods, his hat unmoving. “I..I jus’..wanted y’ t’ be ‘appy..as long as I could be with y’ in some way..I’d ‘ve been ‘appy, long as you were, too..I knew Erina’d be better for y’ than someone like me could ever be..”

Jonathan reached one hand up and felt his way to Speedwagon’s face, gently wiping his tears away. “You give yourself far too little credit, Robert. You are an amazing person- you’re kind, compassionate, clever, strong, brave, and loyal like no other man could ever hope to be. You’re the man that I love with all of my heart.” He offered a small smile down at the other man, even if he couldn’t see it. “I pray that, despite everything I have put you through, that I am still a man that you do- or, eventually could- love, as well?”

Speedwagon didn’t answer for a minute, sniffling once more before retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbing at his face with the white cloth. “God damn you…” He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket before finally looking up enough to meet Jonathan’s eyes again. His brown eyes were tinged red from his tears and still shimmering wetly with a few remaining ones that threatened to spill any moment. Still, despite the state of his eyes, his smile was as bright as the sun itself. “Course I still love y’, damn it. Think that’d stop after all these years?”

Jonathan gazed at Speedwagon’s smiling face, thinking to himself that if he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life, then he would never miss the sun again. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting so long, then.” He wrapped one arm around Speedwagon’s waist and tipped his head back slightly with the other, leaning closer. “May I offer you a token of both my sincerest apologies, as well as my ever growing affection?”

Speedwagon failed to suppress a snort and a laugh at Jonathan’s choice of words, his smile growing into a full-blown grin. “That’s the nicest way I’ve EVER been asked for a kiss in me life. And, yes, you may, or I’ll be forced to do it meself.” His cheeks turned the tiniest bit red as he spoke, but he still never looked away from Jonathan’s eyes.

“Well, it would be rather rude to do that now, wouldn’t it?” Jonathan tilted his head down and pressed his chilled lips to Speedwagon’s warm ones, finally fulfilling both of their desires in one simple motion.

The kiss was beyond amazing. Jonathan felt warmth coursing through him like a spark, reminding him briefly of how it felt when he could use his hamon, except this was so much more exhilarating. Every spot their bodies touched felt like it was conducting electricity right into Jonathan’s very being, making him long for more.

The gentle kiss soon changed from closed-mouth and chaste, to something much more passionate as the two apparently tried to put several years’ worth of feelings into one action- and it seemed to be working. Jonathan’s tongue swept out along Speedwagon’s lips, silently asking for entry. Speedwagon eagerly opened his mouth to Jonathan’s questing tongue and moaned softly into the kiss as Jonathan explored every inch of his lover’s mouth. They clung to each other desperately, almost afraid to let go and end the moment.

Alas, all good things eventually come to an end. This end came in the form of Speedwagon’s legs growing weak and his breath running short- just because Jonathan didn’t need to breathe, didn’t mean Speedwagon had the same luxury.

Speedwagon broke the kiss first, pulling away just enough to rapidly intake the oxygen he needed to continue living while still staying pressed flush against Jonathan. “Ah..hah..bloody ‘ell..think that’s the..the first time..I’ve LITERALLY been kissed breathless..”

Jonathan tried to look apologetic, he really did, but it was hard to do so when he couldn’t stop smiling. “I suppose I shall have to practice until I learn to leave you breathless in far better ways, won’t I?”

Speedwagon chuckled and lightly slapped Jonathan’s shoulder, practically grinning from ear to ear. “Never would’ve pegged y’ for such a cheeky flirt.”

Jonathan winked with the slightest bit of a teasing smirk. “I prefer the term ‘hopeless romantic’. And I’m afraid you will simply have to get used to it, as I do not plan on stopping such behavior anytime soon.”

Speedwagon laughed and wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “Oh well, can’t say I’ll complain ‘bout it TOO much…’course, if me mouth was occupied, it’d be a bit easier t’ do so.”

Jonathan chuckled, catching onto what Speedwagon meant, and wrapped both of his arms around the smaller man’s waist. “I believe I can assist in that matter.”

And with that the two were locked in yet another kiss. It felt just as wonderful as the first, as it held the promise of many more to come in the years that would follow.

“I love you, Jonathan.” Speedwagon sighed between kisses.

“I love you too, Robert.” Jonathan said with a soft smile before sealing their lips together once more.

Ending Notes: Think this’ll be a good place to stop for now, but may revisit this AU later with more chapters :)

<-Previous Chapter

-From the Beginning-

[bogwithanlforluck-blog]

I Unfriend You, Floyd

DISCLAIMER: The figurative and/or literal act of “unfriending” any person, group of people, ideological affiliation, etc. involves, at the least, some disappointment. At its worst, “unfriending” can cause a certain amount of trauma, or it can perhaps evoke past trauma. Since this essay is indeed about an “unfriending” experience that reaches the level of a kind of trauma, I am going to approach this from a remove, as if I were talking this out with a therapist. Please excuse, therefore, the potential psychobabble that may pervade the whole process….

    Imagine a typical therapist’s office. Sofas, books, knick-knacks. I am in one chair; the doctor in another.

   The doctor asks me, “So, I believe you said you were here to talk about someone who terrorized you, and who, to this day, still terrorizes you, if only periodically. Someone named Floyd. Do I have that right?”

     “Well, pretty much yes. But it’s not a someone, it’s a group of people. And the whole name is Pink Floyd.”

     “Ah, I see. Thanks for clarifying. Why ‘Pink’?”

     “Good question.” After this response, a thoughtful pause in the conversation occurs, after which the doctor continues:

     “Well, aside from the name itself, why do you think you became so terrified of this Pink Floyd?”

     “I have been thinking about that, doctor. And I believe it dates back to a church camping trip that my sister and I went on back when I was about 13.”

      “Are you, or were you, religious?”

      “No, not really. I am not sure how we ended up going on that trip. My sister and I were not campers, and we were not particularly involved in church. We went to a Methodist Church, but we had no idea what ‘Methodist’ really meant; I’m not sure many Methodists do, actually. I think the Methodist Church is one of those nice hybrid protestant churches that is not too preachy but politely tries to instill good moral values in its parishioners. But, that’s kind of beside the point.”

       “Okay, go on then. What happened on this trip?”

       “The trip was co-ed, and from what I remember, different sets of parents, not ours, volunteered to drive the kids across Tennessee over the border into west North Carolina, to a campground where we would pitch tents, stay overnight, go whitewater rafting the next day, then go home.”

       “Did you have fun?”

       “On the whole, no. My sister and I have good memories from it in some ways, because we were the absolute worst campers ever and made a mess of the whole outdoors experience. She and I shared a tent; we had to pitch it ourselves — I know, the nerve of that, right? — and that endeavor took more than a few tries. Overnight, we got zero sleep, because the camper next to us, a guy who had a tent to himself, snored louder than I do, and that means louder than a buzz saw or even an air raid. Imagine rhythmic sonic booms. Anyway, my sister — her name’s Laura, by the way — and I kept laughing at the hapless honker next to us, and then we decided just to stay up all night, so that we could be first at the showers and get the hot water.”

       “So far, it does not sound like a bad trip at all. You have some good memories from it.”

       “Oh, I do. That was all good. And the whitewater rafting wasn’t bad, except for the fact that I was the youngest on the trip and got put in the back of the raft with the guide, while Laura got to ride up front, where all the action was. She was seated next to two hyper-enthusiastic guys who kept trying to make the most of the rapids, so at the front end of the boat, there was a whole lot of ‘Whoa’-ing and ‘Far-out’-ing, while back in the back, I had the loud voice of the guide in my ear on one side of me, and on the other side, I had my ineffective oar. Plus, remember: I was not a river-type person, so I took offense to my sour-river-water-smelling life jacket and my muddy river-water shoes. I don’t want to sound like a prima-donna, but river life and camping are just not my thing.”

       “But so far, Floyd, or Pink Floyd — you had not met him yet.”

       “Oh, no, and Pink Floyd, it’s not a ‘him’; it’s a rock group.”

       “Oh, a rock group.” [Notice that I have chosen a doctor who has never heard of Pink Floyd. Artistic license!]

       “The Pink Floyd encounter came later, when we were on our way home. I am not sure how the rides home got put together, but after our muddy-water day on the river, we went home, once again in cars driven by parents. One of our fellow campers was a schoolmate of mine; his name was Jason. Thinking back, I daresay his name is quite apt in this situation, as the name ‘Jason’ in this day and age symbolizes the ultimate horror figure. ‘Jason’ is the name of the anti-hero in all the Friday the 13th movies.”

       “So Jason brought to mind the horror films?”

       “Not then — just now, looking back, I note that Jason’s name is rather ironic, in the context of things. So, anyway, I think we ended up riding home with Jason and his parents, because Jason was a schoolmate of mine, and for that reason — though he and I were not friends at school — we rode with his family. We had an outside-church connection.”

     “So, you rode all the way from western North Carolina to Nashville with this same family? You and your sister?”

     “Yes. And as we were guests of the drivers, Laura and I — maybe practicing our good Methodist manners — did not make any special requests on where to sit or anything like that. So, naturally, I sat in the middle of the back seat, between Jason and Laura, I think. Jason’s mother was riding in the front passenger seat, and she said a few polite words to us, but from there, things got eerily quiet.”

      “How so?”

     “Well, this, I think, is where the insidious workings of the Pink Floyd trauma began. Jason, for his part, was sullen. I don’t know why. Maybe he did not like muddy river water and stinky life jackets, either. He was not in our boat, so maybe he had to ride in the back of his. Whatever the case, he was in a pouty mood. He insisted that his parents play his favorite cassette tape, which just happened to consist of nothing but Pink Floyd music.”

     “Was Jason mean to you?”

     “No, not at all. He was just completely grim and therefore speechless. I don’t remember a single word he said on that ride home. Maybe he was so into his music that he did not want to talk over it. Laura and I, meanwhile, did not want to interrupt his — reverie, either, so we kept quiet.

       “And therefore, by the tacitly enforced quiet in the car, Pink Floyd came drifting through the atmosphere, enveloping us all in a Floyd-fug. Meanwhile, imagine where I am and the environment in which we were driving. We had reached that no-man’s land between east Tennessee and west North Carolina that is just a bendy-road with gargantuan trees all eaten alive by kudzu. The trees on either side of the narrow, two-lane road were very tall and branched over towards one another on either side, and in their kudzu-caped crisis, they seemed to be gesturing over to each other for help, growing ever taller to escape the body-snatcher enveloping them. And I, sitting in the middle of the back seat, was in my own no-man’s land, having to brace myself from swaying into Jason or Laura as we turned around the bends in the road.”

      “Hm. That does sound uncomfortable.”

      “You got it in a word, doctor. ‘Uncomfortable.’ Because amid this dreary landscape, along with the vacuum of speech, came the quite DIS-quieting sound of Pink Floyd. And the song I remember most clearly from this hellish, church-camping-trip ride home, was Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb.’ Right. ‘Comfortably Numb’ my ass! Oh, pardon my swearing.”

      “That’s okay; you have to say what you need to say.”

      “Yes, well, thank you. My ass may have been literally numb, but it was not comfortable. And Pink Floyd was not helping. You see, that group— their songs — their songs sound like they’re coming from the grave. They have this super-mellow-tinged-with-despair sound that attacks you just like that kudzu was attacking the trees. Over and over, I was hearing this extended, ‘I—I——I have become…comfortably numb.’ The more I heard it, the more anxious I became. I was uncomfortably antsy. For miles and miles it seems, we rode with the kudzu and Pink Floyd, to the point where I felt like I might never make it out alive. Indeed, I felt like I might go right into the grave from which those songs emanated”

       “Maybe those songs were triggering an uncomfortable memory for you, and you started to panic.”

       “No, it was the reverse. Those songs were the beginning of an uncomfortable reality for me — that Pink Floyd exists, and that the group has FANS. I started to panic at that realization.”

        “Perhaps.”

        “For definite. And ever since then, I have never liked their music. A long time later, for about two years, I worked in a record store, and I tried to keep an open mind about all music while working there. I saw many Pink Floyd fans come and go. I stocked the band’s albums. I give the band credit for coming up with some of the most iconic album art in the history of rock. And I listened to some of their songs, again, but even with my attempts to keep an open mind, their music gives me the creeps, like creeping kudzu. Over time, I have grown more and more leery of Pink Floyd music. If I happen to hear the beginnings of some of their famous hits — and they had a couple of gimmicky beginnings to a few songs that are now instantly recognizable — I feel dread. Like the Grim Reaper is nearby and bad things are about to unfurl. I just think,” and here, I sit up straighter, “ — I believe it’s time to unfriend them. A kind of renunciation of their power.”

      “You can certainly do that; I like the idea. And I will be here for support, just in case some of the fear returns, in whatever measure.”

     And therefore, in theory, and in writing, I am officially unfriending Pink Floyd. Many apologies to Pink Floyd fans if I have caused offense. Recently, I saw a poll ranking the best Rock & Roll bands of all time, and Pink Floyd was ranked 4th. What wonderful news for fans. However, I will, in my best Methodist-mannered fashion, politely disagree with that ranking.

[miss-zei]

Anathema - Chapter One

Rating: T+ for swear words, and suggestive situations.

Pairing: NaLu

Story summary:  As the daughter of a devout martial artist, Lucy Heartfilia works hard to become strong enough to carry on the name of the Heartfilia dojo. Things become… complicated when a certain pink haired tornado blows into her home and completely turns her life upside down.

A/N: This is the kind of AU where Ranma and Akane are basically Natsu and Lucy. Of course... there are differences in personality amongst other things to keep the story still somewhat my own c:

Prologue | Current Chapter | Chapter Two

--

"You did what?" Lucy demanded as she stared into her father's stoic face, not entirely sure she had heard him correctly. She couldn't have.

"It was something we had discussed long ago." Jude explained, "You weren't even born yet. Your mother thought it was a good idea at the time as well." He grimaced in response to the glare that his daughter sent his way. "He is a very strong and capable young man! He will help to make the dojo strong. Your mother-"

"Don't." Lucy warned, holding a finger up as she struggled to contain her anger. "Don't you dare bring mama into this, dad. I'm only seventeen!" She stood up from the table and her glare hardened further, "I know mama wanted the dojo to be strong. I know that. But how could you just marry me off to some boy that I have never met? Some boy that you have never met!" She folded her arms across her chest and stared expectantly down at her uneasy father who remained seated.

"Well, Lucy… we just believe that it will be in both you and Natsu's best interest."

"That's another thing!" Lucy shouted as she waved her hands in the air, as if to exaggerate the point that she was about to make. "I've never even met this Gildarts man! The only thing I know about him was that he and mother traveled together, training under grandfather." She frowned, "Yet the man didn't even come to her funeral! How could somebody who was so close to mama not come to her funeral?" Lucy couldn't bring herself to even try to understand.

Jude held up a postcard that had a very cute panda on the front of it, and pointed to said card. "Well, both he and Natsu have been in China for a little over a year now. I don't think he even knows about Layla's passing. They will be arriving today." Thunder rumbled immediately after that statement and it began to rain quite hard.

Perfect weather for the mood that Lucy was in.

"I can't believe this," Lucy groaned before she moved to the back door and leaned against the frame and could actually appear to be mournful as she watched as large raindrops began to pelt their koi pond.

The teenager didn't want to believe for a second that her mother would have agreed to marrying Lucy off to somebody whom she'd never met before. Especially when she had no idea what kind of person Gildarts' son would turn out to be.

Then again… Layla had to have been quite young and perhaps even impulsive back then. Lucy had no idea what kinds of things her mother would have said or done. There was a very good possibility that her father wasn't just saying all of that stuff.

"Put me down! don't make me do this!" Someone began shouting towards the front of their house and Lucy felt herself bristle immediately in response. Laxus was at her side in an instant, his expression was difficult to read.

"That must be them!" Jude exclaimed excitedly, getting up and hurrying towards the front door. Wishing to be the one to welcome Gildarts and his soon to be son-in-law into the Heartfilia residence. Lucy was almost positive that she'd never seen her father move so quickly. She supposed that she must have underestimated the friendship that he'd had with her mother's old friend.

"Don't worry," Laxus said after Jude's figure disappeared from their line of sight. "I am sure that grandfather will not accept this," he tried to reassure the brown-eyed young woman and she sighed softly.

Their grandfather had been gone for a few weeks now, talking about some business he'd needed attending to before leaving without any other means of explanation.

A bloodcurdling scream almost immediately drew both of the teenager's attention and they were about to hurry to Jude's aid… before he came running into the room and hid behind Laxus as though he were a large shield.

A panda, carrying a red-haired girl entered the room and stared at the three of them intently, with eyes that seemed a bit too self-aware to truly belong to an animal.

Then, he calmly set the squirming girl down in front of them and pushed her forward.

"Um… I'm Natsu Clive." Her gaze found Lucy's shocked expression before she looked away, "I'm uh, I'm sorry about this." The other girl looked extremely flustered and embarrassed.

"Wait… you are Natsu?" Jude asked incredulously. Natsu quite clearly was a female, Even the baggy black chinese shirt that she wore couldn't necessarily hide the relatively large breasts that were hidden by the thick material. "Where on earth is Gildarts? I don't understand..." Jude stared at Natsu unabashedly before slowly turning his attention onto the Panda that continued to stand on his hind legs. He was also staring at Jude with an equal amount of intensity.

Lucy, of course, was thrilled by the news and moved forward. "Hello, I'm Lucy Heartfilia. You don't need to apologize for anything, it is our fathers who should be apologizing." She sent a pointed look to Jude who only continued to stare at the panda in a state of perplexity. "They are the ones who messed up after all." Lucy laughed softly, and Natsu hesitated before nodding in agreement.

"You just came from China, didn't you? Would you like to spar a little?" Lucy was already dressed in her Gi, having been in the dojo before her father had asked her into the living room so that they could talk about something important.

So much for that.

"Oh well I don't know, I'm not sure I really wanna spar right now…" Natsu trailed off, scratching the back of her head anxiously.

"Oh come on, please? I only ever get to spar with my cousin, but he never takes me seriously. I love him… but boys just really piss me off lately."

Natsu laughed at that, a very bittersweet sound before finally agreeing and willingly followed Lucy when she began to lead the way towards the dojo.

"I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I am that you're a girl," Lucy said as they walked, "My dad only just told me about the little arrangement he and your father had." They turned a corner and found another long hallway. "I don't think he was expecting for you to be female." She then quickly waved her hands around. "Not that there is anything wrong with same sex marriage of course!" She felt quite embarrassed for her words all of a sudden. "I'm just straight!" Lucy then smacked her forehead, "I have a gift at making things worse than they already are." she sighed and Natsu laughed loudly at the blonde's display.

"Don't worry, I am too." Another laugh before she looked around a little bit, "You have a really big house." She observed, "Your dad isn't a martial artist, is he?"

Lucy shook her head, "No, he owns a branch of department stores." She shrugged, "He does a lot of his work at home though. Paperwork and all that. I can't even imagine doing that kind of thing for a living. It seems so boring." she shook her head and quickly added, "Of course, I do enjoy writing stories on paper. That kind of paperwork I wouldn't mind."

Natsu continued to look around with large, emerald eyes. Lucy wasn't entirely sure that the strange girl was even listening to Lucy anymore at that point. It appeared as though she had never been in such a large house before. Lucy herself thought that it was unnecessarily large. But this was the home that her mother and father had lived the entirety of their married lives in. So Lucy never said anything about it to her father.

When they finally made it to the dojo, Lucy already felt so much better as she breathed in the dojo air deeply and slipped off her shoes.

"Um listen, I'm really not sure about this." Natsu said slowly as she watched while Lucy began to stretch her weary muscles. "Maybe we should wait a little bit for this? Um…" The redhead really didn't seem to want to spar and Lucy felt a small pang of guilt for insisting so much

But only a very small pang.

"I promise I'll go easy on you," Lucy said as she dropped into a ready position and held her hands up defensively, "we don't need to go all out right away. I know you must be tired from your trip here. We don't even have to go very long, how about we just try to knock the other down?" Natsu sighed before nodding.

Lucy waited for the other girl to get ready, but Natsu only stood there and smiled as she watched Lucy. So, the blonde decided to make the first move. She ran at Natsu and began to throw a few punches and kicks. Definitely going a bit slower than she usually would with Laxus or the Master. The last thing she wanted was to actually hurt the other martial artist, especially so soon into their relationship. Though it quickly became clear that this wouldn't be an issue. Natsu evaded each of Lucy's attacks easily. Too easily.

So the blonde picked up the pace, but as her attacks moved quicker… so did Natsu's dodges. It was apparent that Natsu was at a much, much higher level than Lucy. Her gaze darted to the other girls black chinese shirt. She hadn't noticed earlier because it kind of blended in, but Natsu wore a black belt.

It was then that Lucy lost her footing and fell backwards when Natsu reached forward and lightly poked Lucy's forehead, easily pushing her off balance.

Lucy, stunned, fell onto her backside. This girl could probably give even Laxus a run for his money. That was amazing.

"You're really good," Lucy accepted the hand that Natsu had extended to help her up. "I wish I had your reflexes. You must have been training your whole life in order to achieve such a fluidity with your body."

Natsu nodded, "Yeah, pop and me have been traveling and training as long as I can remember."

Lucy then blinked when she realized something, "Right… speaking of your dad. Where is he?" She also thought about the panda that had come with Natsu.

How strange.

Natsu grimaced and opened her mouth to answer Lucy's question before a fairly large and very wet man ran into the dojo with his arms open wide.

"Lucy!" He shouted, immediately taking said girl by surprise. She'd never seen that man before in her entire life, though for some reason his face did look a little bit familiar…

Fortunately for her, Natsu was not phased by the strange man's antics and stepped in front of Lucy and punched the guy square in the face without any sign of hesitation, effectively deflecting him.

"Ow!" He shouted, rubbing his already reddening cheek, "Natsu! Is that any way to treat your poor father? I just wanted to greet Lucy properly!" The fully grown man folded his large, muscled arms across his chest and actually appeared to be pouting.

"Oh I didn't know that a 'proper' way of greeting somebody was to attack them without even introducing yourself." Natsu groaned loudly before gesturing to the mumbling adult. "This is my pop." She said with a grimace and Lucy looked the man up and down, curious.

"So you're Gildarts." Now she knew where she recognized his face from. A photo of her mother, grandfather, and three other men that she'd never actually met before. She definitely recognized this man as one of those other people in that photo. "So you traveled with my mom, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah…" Gildarts smile faded, "I had no idea that Layla…" he shook his head, as if to ward off any of the sadness that was beginning to affect his mood. "I'm sorry for your loss. If I had known how bad Layla was getting…" He looked to Natsu, "We probably wouldn't have gone to China."

For some reason… those words seemed to hold a weight to them. More weight than Lucy could understand.

"I'm sure mama wouldn't have wanted to get in the way of your training." Lucy said after a long moment of watching Natsu and her father hold each other's gaze with a matching expression on their faces that she couldn't read.

These two were… strange.

It was then that Lucy noticed how wet the two were and she immediately felt guilty as her attention returned to Natsu, "I'm sorry, I should have taken your state into consideration before I asked for a spar." she gestured to Natsu's wet clothes. "I'll go get baths going for the two of you, if you leave your clothes outside the bathroom doors, I'll have one of the maid's get them clean for you. I should have thought of that first." She laughed as she bopped herself on the forehead, "My brain is all jumbled up because of the whole 'engagement' thing." She then began to leave the dojo, "I'll have my father or somebody come get you when the baths are ready. You can continue to use the dojo if you'd like." She then left the two to their own devices.

Her face slowly fell into that of pensive focus as she walked through the house. So much had happened since she woke up that morning, too much actually. It was so frustrating that her father had waited so long to tell Lucy of her betrothal. She didn't want to be angry at him, because she knew that he'd never been very good at talking about things that may upset her.

Ever since her mother died, Jude had been especially wary of Lucy's feelings. With Layla's death having been expected for so many years… the man had the time to accept the fact that he would need to carry on raising Lucy without Layla's help. It was because of how hard he'd been trying that Lucy didn't want to get too angry with the man.

Lucy entered the first bathroom and began to run the bath. She set out a clean towel for whoever would use that bathroom before she turned and began to head towards their second bathroom.

She supposed having a large house was good for an unexpected houseguest or two.

It was as she was entering the second bathroom that she ran into her father who seemed to have had the same idea as she. "You must be feeling quite silly, father." Lucy scoffed as she passed him and did the same with the second bathroom that she had with the first. Although the only clean towel in that bathroom was one that had her name sewed onto it. She was sure that neither Natsu nor Gildarts would really care about such a thing.

She certainly didn't mind.

"Well… Lucy…" Jude hesitated as she passed him once more upon leaving the bathroom, "Listen…"

"Papa, I'm gonna get started on dinner, please show our guests to the bathrooms, they should still be in the dojo." The blonde spoke over her father, not wanting to snap at him because of her salty mood.

It was when she entered the kitchen that she began to wonder about that panda again. Where on earth had it gone?

More importantly… why did she feel so unphased by a panda striding into her home like it owned the place? Maybe the news of the engagement had affected her more than she'd initially thought.

She sighed softly and took her apron off of the hook that it hung from beside the refrigerator and put it on. She would cook dinner… and then things would begin to return to normal.

At least… she hoped so anyway. But something told her that things weren't going to be quite that simple.

[hglasz]

My Olive Branch

I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just doing things different.

It started sometime in February. At least that’s when I assumed it started. Of course, there were signs that something was a little off a couple years ago when what I call my “Dark Year” began. But February. That’s when it all hit. 

It seemed normal at first. I was just taking care of myself. I was going to the gym a little bit more and eating a little bit less. That was the way to happiness. Losing weight would make me feel better about my appearance, and that would make me feel better about my life in general. Slowly, and with great ease and caution, I began cutting back on my meals. Today I’m not going to eat until noon, I would tell myself. Or Today I’m only going to eat raw foods. And suddenly, without me really recognizing the magnitude of my changing habits, it turned into Today I’m not going to eat anything and Today I’m going to go to the gym for two hours instead of one.

Like I said, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just a little different than everyone else around me. But a little different started becoming a lot different and I was isolating more and more until others took notice of me withering away.

I was sitting in my nutritionist’s office at school for our third appointment together the first time she threw out that still-hard-to-swallow word.

“You know, often times people with anorexia tend to be perfectionists and high-achieving individuals and....”

The wall I had begun chiseling away with her was rebuilt in a matter of seconds and I left her office that day swearing I would never return. I didn’t.

Two days later, I went in for a routine check-up with the nurse practitioner at school. She was only going to ask me how my antidepressants were working, maybe take my vitals, schedule another check-in soon, and I’d be on my way. It was one o’clock. Half an hour into our appointment, she sat down with me and communicated that she wasn’t comfortable sending me back to my apartment that day. I stared back at her blankly, not sure what she meant, and not sure where else I would go. The library? The union? Would I just stay in the nurse’s office for a few more hours until I was clear to leave?

“The level of care that we provide here is not enough to help you in your situation right now.”

Chest tightening, heart speeding, palms shaking, shoulders sinking.

Not more than ten minutes later and the head of counseling services at my school, along with my nurse practitioner, were on the phone with my mom, telling her that it was time for me to withdraw from Messiah for the remainder of the semester. I couldn’t take care of myself anymore, and I was putting my health - and my life - at serious risk. Two days of packing and trying my best to explain to friends and professors what was happening, and my parents came to pick me up from school and take me back home to Ohio.

I thought that was going to be the end. I was just going to lay in bed for a while, get the rest I had been missing out on, and go back to school in time for graduation. God, I wish it had been that easy.

I went in for an assessment at a treatment facility called The Emily Program in northeast Ohio, again in full denial that anything was going on that needed serious medical attention. After getting my weight checked and spilling out what felt like my entire life story and history with food, the counselor I was meeting with told me I had no choice other than to enter into inpatient, residential treatment in Cleveland Heights.

And here we are now.

I’m typing all of this at 6:57 in the morning on a Sunday. I’m listening to the songs of birds, the humming of a coffeemaker, the gentle rolling of Cleveland traffic, and the shuffling of feet from my housemates. Two weeks ago I was admitted into residential treatment at The Emily Program to begin the process of recovery from anorexia.

Being here is weird. 

There’s really no other way to put it. I spend my days in and out of the offices of my nutritionist, my therapist, my physician, and my psychiatrist. I follow a system of tallies for my meals, making sure that I get in the proper amount of nutrients for each meal and snack. I eat at 8 AM, 10 AM, noon, 3:15 PM, 5:45 PM, and 8:15 PM, on the dot, every single day. I sit at a table with a couple other residents and the treatment home equivalent of a resident assistant. I “check-in” after every meal or snack, stating what was difficult about the meal and what I enjoyed about it. If I don’t finish my meals, I drink a chocolate supplemental shake, which is basically just over-glorified Nesquik. I sit in the same spot on the same couch with the same blanket for all of our group therapy sessions. I have a schedule for bathroom breaks. I wake up at 6:00 AM every morning to get my vitals checked. The amount of water I drink is monitored. Until yesterday, I couldn’t go anywhere without being in the eyesight of one of the staff members here.

Being here is weird.

But.

Being here is also saving my life.

I spend my days in and out of bouts of laughter with my housemates, all of whom know the severity of the deep waters of my struggles with my body image and my food habits. I get to participate in yoga and art therapy every day. I have a team of caretakers that invest their time in me and remind me that I am so worth the investment. I get stickers each morning when I do my individual check-in during group therapy (right now on my binder is a collection of alligators, penguins, lions, bumblebees, and one very sparkly fish). Even when I can’t finish my meals, the staff here encourages me along and praises me for what I could do, not reprimanding me for what I couldn’t. My parents visit me just about every other day, and it gets a little bit easier every time to open up to them about a part of my life that I’ve hid for so very long. I knit blankets, I color pictures of finely decorated swear words, I cuddle up with my housemates every night and watch a minimum of four episodes of The Office. I’m learning each and every day that the process of recovery from this disease is just that - a process. It’s going to take time. And that’s ok.

Yesterday was my first day allowed out of the house by myself. I had four hours to do whatever I wanted, as long as I remembered to have a proper snack right at 3:15 PM. I went to Starbucks first, thinking that’s where I would land for the entire duration of my pass, but after taking a few sips of my full-fat chai latte (because, contrary to my eating disorder’s thinking, 2% milk will not kill me), I found myself driving towards Ohio City and walking into Voodoo Monkey Tattoo, the first tattoo shop opened in Cleveland. I met my artist, named Dave, who asked me what I was doing for a living. Unlike what I tell most people (”oh I’m a student, just home for a little break before I go back”), I didn’t hesitate to tell Dave what I was actually doing in Cleveland. Maybe it was because he had a gun made up of tiny needles and black ink in his hand, maybe it was because I was just feeling extra chatty that day, but I told someone for the first time what I was struggling with, without the fear of being judged or misunderstood. His response was perfect. 

“Oh shit. Sorry, girl.”

I relaxed in the chair a little more and in the next fifteen minutes, I walked away with a beautiful olive branch woven into my skin in black ink. The olive branch, of course, is a symbol of peace. But for me, it has also become a symbol of growth. Of hope. Of a brand new life just around the corner.

I know I’m only in the very beginning stages of recovery. I know that my eating disorder will not magically disappear once I no longer have trouble eating pasta, or don’t go on excessive runs or bike rides after I eat a handful of nuts. I know that, somewhere along the road, I will fall back into familiar habits. I will need ongoing therapy, and ongoing conversation with family, and ongoing encouragement from the people that surround me every day. But I also know that that is no fault of my own. Being sick is not my fault. Leaving school is not my fault. The burdens I have carried on my back for a lifetime do not belong to me. I will have good days and bad days and days somewhere in between, but each and every day from here on out, I hope that I can take a minute to pause, breathe, and set down my worries and my burdens in order to pick up my own olive branch. 

Peace, hope, and a brand new life - they are just around the corner.