#if you were eager to read about a good cartoon today.. well… my apologies to you

[ducktracy]

!!!NEW REVIEW!!!

at last, 1940 draws to a close with a sequel to Little Blabbermouse—or, more accurately, the half reheated leftovers of Little Blabbermouse. such a quick turnaround time between the two and their release dates—only five months!—certainly shows, as much of the short hinges on reused animation and ideas from the former, with a few twists to keep it new (such as a lethal game of poker between robots.) once again, Blabbermouse annoys both the audience and the mouse caricature of W.C. Fields to their wits end amidst a tour of a shuttered department store and all of its various amenities.

[letarasstuff]

Showing the Bird

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you have fun reading it!

Summary: Spencer's daughter always is quick to pick things up she shoudn't do, this includes a certain gesture with her hand and middle fínger.

Warnings: A kid showing her middle finger

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Spencer is a technophobe. That’s why (Y/N) has limited access to any kind of electronics, which is a good thing for a three year old. The only sort she is allowed to use is the TV in the living room and even there her choices are limited to the several DVDs the little family owns and cable TV. Emily is in the process of persuading him to get a subscription to a streaming service for (Y/N)’s sake.

“Ok, Sweetheart. One hour of TV today before eating dinner and getting ready for bed, like we negotiated”, Spencer reminds his daughter before turning it on a kid’s channel. She nods, already engrossed by Peppa Pig hanging up on that sheep for being able to whistle.

Earlier the two Reids made a deal: If (Y/N) got all the states and their capitals right, she is allowed one hour of television. This may sound like he forced her to learn this information, but it’s really just a way to stimulate her brain and the toddler is eager to learn. Spencer only has to make it look like she has a gain in it.

The young doctor doesn’t like to leave his kid alone while watching TV. It’s not because he can’t leave her on her own for a few minutes. Spencer wants full control over what (Y/N) sees and what not. Especially he can tell what effects something has on a child and he doesn’t want her exposed to things she shouldn’t be subjected to at her age.

“Daddy, why are the animals talking to each other? I know they are translating all languages to us, but a pig speaks not sheep language.” Spencer is slightly baffled at her question. It’s mostly cute that she explains most things to herself in such a plausible way.

“Uhm, well Sweetheart. You have to-” Saved by the bell. Or more like the ring of his cellphone. Still he hesitates to get it. It’s Morgan, who probably calls because the team needs help with the case.

Spencer had to stay behind for this one, because he planned on taking his vacation days with (Y/N) to fly up to Las Vegas to visit her grandma. But Diana spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a trip with the sanctorium. Now the two do all the things they don’t have the time for in their regular day.

They already were at the aquarium, visited three different museums and even went to the movies once to watch the latest disney movie. Spencer really had to keep himself from pointing out the inaccuracies to not spoil (Y/N)’s fun.

Now the father debates taking the call. He doesn’t want to leave his daughter alone while the TV is on, but also doesn’t want to talk about a case right in front of her. The option of turning the TV off is also from the table, because this would be just plain mean.

So he answers it, afraid that the voicemail will turn on. “Hey Morgan, wait a second, I’ll have to leave the room”, then he puts his hand over the speaker and turns to the toddler. “Sweetheart, I have to talk to your Uncle Derek real quick. I’ll be right back.” She nods and goes back to her cartoon.

But while her father is in the room next door, the audio gets awfully quiet. Frustrated, because she isn’t able to understand properly what they are saying, (Y/N) looks for the remote. And there it is, waiting patiently for her and her little toddler hands.

But instead of turning the volume up, she accidentally changes the channel to an old cop movie. Curious about what is happening on the screen, the girl leaves it on for a few seconds. Upon entering a room, another man greets him with his middle finger raised. (Y/N) looks at her own and tries to copy that movement. On the third try she kind of gets it.

Getting bored of not knowing what the plot of the movie is, she turns it back on the cartoon she watched earlier and settles back down on her little chair next to the table full of books (Spencer put it there to avoid her sitting too close to the TV and straining her eyes while watching her shows, the distance is perfectly measured).

Just as (Y/N) sits down Spencer re-enters the living room, feeling relieved because he was able to help his team. “Hey Sweetie, is everything alright?” Happily she nods, showing him the bird.

Spencer’s face? Just imagine the shook Pikachu. “(Y/N)! You don’t do that! This is really mean!” He tells her in a stern voice. Where did she learn that from? He doesn’t know it, but the genius is almost a 100% sure she saw someone on the street doing it, (Y/N) always was quick to pick things like these up.

The toddler looks at him with a sad face, close to tears. “I-i-i didn’t know. I’m sor-sorry”, she says, beginning to cry. Oh no, this is not what Spencer was aiming for. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. You just don’t do this, people can get really hurt by your gesture.”

After calming her down, he thinks of something they can do outside of their apartment, to forget the little incident. “Do you wanna go to the office with me? All your aunts and uncles are going to get there soon and maybe we can go eat dinner with them?” Excited by the thought of seeing her family, (Y/N) nods and jumps up to get her own little go bag.

It’s a bright pre-packed backpack with small coloring books, normal books, pencils and other knick knacks she might need when she goes out with her father. The only thing that they have to put in is her favorite stuffed animal of the day. They call it like Spencer’s work bag, because the toddler once overheard the word at the office and refused to call it something different than his.

“Hey, look at who decided to give us a little visit!” Penelope exclaims as soon as the team leaves the elevator. (Y/N) tries to keep up with her preppy step, desperately holding onto her hand to not lose her.

As they finally come to a halt in front of everybody, the little girl smiles sweetly at them. “Hi”, she says in the most adorable voice. But instead of doing her usual wave, she raises her small hand with her middle finger standing out.

You just hear a faint “NOO!” and a crashing noise before Spencer comes along in a jog. He scoops his daughter up, looking her into the eyes. He takes a few steps away from where the team is standing.

“(Y/N), what did we say about this gesture”, he asks her in a serious tone. Instantly tears start to form in her eyes again, but Spencer knows he has to be strong now. “(Y/N), you have to stop doing it. It can really hurt people. Do you remember when Jason made fun of the braids Auntie Penelope put your hair in?” She nods.

Meanwhile the team stands awkwardly in the background, not knowing what to do. They never really witnessed the genius reprimanding his daughter in front of them. Though it’s not directly in front them.

“You were hurt by his words. The same is with the gesture you just made. We don’t do this to people, we don’t want to make them feel bad. Now, I don’t want to punish you, because you didn’t really know the meaning. Just apologize to your Aunties and Uncles. Next time you do it, there will be a hard no on TV for a week.”

Quickly wiping her eyes, the toddler mutters a small “Ok Daddy.” Spencer’s heart hurts a little at that, but he needed to be stern in this one.

She wiggles out of his grasp and slowly makes her way over to the others. (Y/N) gives each of them a hug, apologizing individually to them.

“So, who wants to see the new pictures of Sergio I got on my desk?” Emily asks in a cheerful tone to break the awkward tension. Immediately the girl takes upon that offer and bounces off to the desk with her godmother in tow.

Spencer still stands near the elevator, watching the interaction going down through the glass doors. Hotch pats him on the shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to be mad at them or strict even, but you did the right thing”, he reassures him briefly before making his way to his office. The genius smiles, as a parent you seldom get encouraging words about how you raise your child. It kind of feels like walking down a path with closed eyes. But on both sides are deep rivers with piranhas in them.

Derek takes a place beside his best friend. “You know, as serious as this is, it’s also as funny. I mean how she just smiled sweetly as a cupcake and deadass pulled her middle finger up like nobody’s business? My man, in your case I would keep a close eye on her during (Y/N)’s teen years.” Both laugh at the bizarre situation.

But luckily the toddler learned her lesson from this and stopped showing people the bird as a greeting. This is until she learns the next inappropriate thing, she should rather not do.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[zombriekid]

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 3/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Checking In?

Chapter Summary: you’re faced with a dilemma as the happy hotel opens its doors to you

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

Oh no...

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Fuck... oh fuck, oh god no, please.

“WHY ARE SO MANY OF MY CLIENTS COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU?!”

The drop of your stomach echoes with a fluttering impression, while a surge of heat, abrupt and uncomfortable, licks at the lining of your throat all the way up to your jaw and it bleeds into your ears; the burgundy walls all around you begin to shrink.

“SOWBELLY SAYS YOU BROKE SOME SHOT!”

“*shit you broke some shit”

“AND THAT COFFEE SMELLIN HIPSTER FUCK SAYS-”

With a resounding clack, your phone slips from your grip and plummets to the sturdy countertop below, a noise that makes the three people around you flinch (you notice distantly), but your brain- your outermost awareness- doesn’t even bother. Because your entire world is now summing up to the blurbs of rapid fire notifications assaulting the LCD screen. Message after heated text message just filled to the brim with expletives and threats and perpetual capslock until this massive wall of verbal abuse blurs your vision; makes your head throb in sync with the increasing thump-thump of your heart.

The device vibrates against the bar and its screen lights up with another message alert, this one demanding your immediate response before declaring you a “useless piece of shit”, and then not long after comes a voice mail about a minute in length.

You’re not gonna listen to it though, you’re gonna grovel.

A tap from your right middle finger brings the digital keyboard to the glass, and your digits begin dancing across the letters to formulate what you consider to be a heartfelt apology, and you beg forgiveness for your transgressions as a lowly delivery person.

But three paragraphs in your hand forces a sudden stop; typos in need of amending due to the constant use of the backspace key, an entire sentence underlined by red squiggly lines with no break between the nonsense letters, and without realizing it at some point you accidentally pulled up the emoji list and now thirty percent of your sniveling is made up of a bunch of cartoons. It’s an odd sensation, you think as you stare back at the jargon, a backlog of muscle memory for modern technology yet you can’t even design coherent text messages in order to save face.

In order to save your fucking job.

All because your goddamn useless hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

Suppose it’s a futile effort at this point- your ass is one hundred percent absolutely and totally fired now.

Meaning no money for bills, no money for food, for utilities, for clothes... Here comes your eviction notice- goodbye lumpy mattress, and a fine greeting to the filthy streets of Pentagram City. A steep price for your compulsive philanthropy, go figure that that’s how things operate down here. How bass ackwards.

But that’s alright, that’s okay, you’ve been through worse you think- you’ve been- you’ve...

You’ve suffered through worse before. Homelessness? Ha, nothing compared to the shit you’ve seen willingly, a temporary setback, maybe a coworker will let you sleep on their couch. The new girl, what was her name? Stacy? Yeah, she’s pretty eager she’ll let you crash with her- it’ll give her more of an excuse to “befriend” you but that’s alright. Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

“Newbie.”

Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last; life in a concrete jungle is such a fickle bitch, especially here in-

“Newbie!”

-here in Pentagram City.

Present time. Post death. Hell. The here and now.

Impossibly small hands are pulling the apples of your cheeks into fleshy bulbs, folding your lips as a pout, and the darkened corners of your vision dim until Niffty’s lone ocular takes precedence in sight; a triad of quick blinks help anchor your focus.

Oh. How wonderful. Yet another episode... how many does that make today? Certainly way more than usual.

You blame the stress.

“Newbie, you okay?” Niffty asks with a tight throat, and a bob of your head delivers your response.

“Just havin’ a... moment. But I’m alright now.”

She glances down to her right in the direction of your phone, still glaring at you from the grainy surface of the bar, and it’s as if you can literally see the gears in her brain start to rotate. You’re fairly certain that she’s about to put two and two together and get four.

“That’s just my own bossman, Mr. Terry. Well, pretty sure he’s my former boss now.”

“Is it cause of today? When you helped me?”

Your knee-jerk reaction is to mindlessly blurt out a response that would confirm her suspicions, but luckily whatever humanity remains in tact notices her pitch- not necessarily concern rather something akin to it paints the undertone- and it clamps your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth. Because what you were about to do, what you were about to say, be it directly or indirectly that was going to shift at least some of the blame on to her, and that would be completely unfair. The fault doesn’t lie with her. It’s entirely your own. First off the little lady didn’t even ask for your help, she didn’t beckon to you she didn’t plead for interception, you swooping in to “save the day” was your body’s reflexive need to act, to just do something instead of perpetuating the stereotype of morbidly curious bystander. Second, the manner of which how you saved her was incredibly, stupidly sloppy- a path of damage shadowing your trek and all you left behind was a substantial cost of repairs and replacements. Since when was charging through a line of stores ever a good idea?!

No, you made the decision to do something about Niffty’s situation, so you could’ve found a better way to engage it- actually you should’ve found a better way, but your lapse in judgment cost some people tools, resources, products, and even some clientele, thus costing you practically everything, and now Hell is demanding its pound of flesh from someone’s hide.

Don’t let her believe that it may come from her.

“Nah, I accidentally pissed off some clients recently,” you say as you gently take hold of her hands and remove them from your face. “No need to worry about it, kiddo.” Which none of that is a lie in any capacity, sometimes your cleverness does in fact shine through.

Niffty doesn’t seem to think so, though obviously there’s no way for her to know without some form of mind reading, regardless her face falls into a displeased frown complete with round, bulgy cheeks. “I’m not a kid, Newb. Besides you’re younger than me!”

Oh, she’s so friggin precious, you’re gonna miss this youngen. “In terms of dates, sure. But my, uhh, ‘departure time’ so to speak-” you decorate this with air quotes “-gives me some years on ya.”

“Yeah, by a few at most.”

... No? By, like, ten-ish years? Are you missing something?

“Dude I’m pretty sure I died somewhere in my twenties.”

“Okay? And?”

Okay, yeah, you’re definitely missing something. The tingles on the back of your neck prove this.

She’s not a child, is she?

“... Niffty, how old were you when you bought the farm?”

“Twenty two.”

Alright, okay, that’s dope- how long until the next extermination? That’s a thing you’ve heard about, and you’d really love to volunteer yourself to be first in line right about now. The sooner the better, really.

From pit in his stomach comes an eruption of raucous glee, such an intense reaction that it forces Angel Dust- long forgotten until now- to bend until he’s bracing himself with two hands on his knees, the other pair clutching around his heaving abdomen, as he cry-laughs at your expense.

Meanwhile, the feathered feline fellow manning the bar makes a sound in the back of his throat loud enough to reach your ears, and when you give him your attention he deems the conversation relevant enough to glimpse at you from the corner of his amber eyes; there’s a deep green bottle entrapped in his massive paws and with a tip of the neck he takes a hearty swig before he finally mutters whatever is on his mind. You catch a whiff of the unmistakeable odor of bitter, cheap booze.

“Didja really think Niff’s a kid?”

...

Ten minutes.

Ten whole arduous minutes spent enduring rigorous taunting and not-so-light-hearted ribbing from all three demonic compatriots; statements such as “not so bright are ya, smooth talka?” ala Angel and “no wonder you’re so weird” courtesy of Niffty force the tips of your ears to sear with your cheeks quickly following the same trend.

In your defense, Niffty’s rather small stature and youthful disposition makes her seem much younger than she actually (apparently) is, and sincerest apologies to the court but she’s the most humanoid individual you’ve encountered downside- other than Charlie, of course- so how were you to know that she wasn’t a child in danger solely based on the information you were given? It’s not like you had the time to stop and ask!

And if this trio of assholes would take a few moments to consider your perspective then maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to jump straight to mockery, so until they do they can just suck your bits.

____________________________________

Some time passes, you’re unclear on how much for you refuse to even so much as think of your phone right now, and though you’ve yet to receive anything further from Mr. Terry- no more text messages, no more voice mails, no more notifications- and though the hotel’s three residents have retired from their cruelty and are seeking entertainment elsewhere- Niffty on a dusty painting, Husk at the bottom of a bottle, and Angel Dust... doing whatever in another room- still you find no peace.

No respite from this fuster cluck of a situatio.

And you don’t know what you’re going to do about it.

But you gotta do something, can’t let this continue to fester, so take a deep breath: one, two, three, four- and let it out: five, six, seven, eight- and repeat. Clear your head. Think about this logically.

The first step should be an apology, of course, but your gut tells you that a simple “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to, won’t happen again” just wouldn’t suffice- not for a group of pissed off demons at least. And your employment with Mr. Terry is a measly two weeks young, nowhere near enough to build up some sort of history of positive work ethic, so starting with him is practically a fool’s errand already.

After all, your enigmatic boss isn’t known for his mercy.

... maybe...

Maybe you’re on to something with that assessment.

Maybe you shouldn’t apologize to him first but rather save him for last. Work up the list of priorities instead of down.

Starting with the demon you pissed off first: Mrs. Sowbelly.

Two pokes at your back.

A delicate, graceful exclamation of “FUCK!” comes bellowing out of your mouth as the abrupt shock nearly sends your ass careening to the floor, your hands scrambling upon the bar in order to hook stability.

Mere seconds later and you find Charlie over the slope of your shoulder with her right index finger pointed in your direction; the look on her face suggests that your squawking startled her. In this moment your mouth works much faster than your brain and an apology is already leaping off your tongue... that is until you notice the person standing next to her.

Now, not to be rude about it, but there’s nothing inherently striking about this individual; gray tinted skin, long white hair pouring down the length of her spine, a few inches shorter than the blonde at her side, and a large pink eye staring straight at you with something like irritation. For the most part, she looks human- not humanoid like Charlie and Niffty, but like you.

Human.

And that’s why she’s stealing your attention.

“Hey Newbie, I want to introduce you to the Happy Hotel’s manager and my partner, Vaggie.” Charlie says with a somewhat forced smile, likely residual from your outburst.

With your eyes trained on the gal in question, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Howdy, pleasure to meet you.”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything back.

Luckily, however, Charlie keeps the conversation rolling.

“The two of us actually wanted to talk to you about something important. Is... is that okay?”

For your anxiety? Anything that even remotely parallels “we need to talk” is a near guarantee to sending your heart to the racetrack, so no it’s not okay in that regard. That being said, given her response earlier, before Mr. Terry battered you with derisive texts, and the fact that she called the manager/her girlfriend over is... well, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t intrigued. Skeptical, maybe even paranoid, but intrigued. So you give your consent.

“Cool beans! So, umm, I think I’m just going to cut to the chase here,” she clears her throat, “we want you to stay here. At the Happy Hotel. To be rehabilitated.”

...

....

“I’m sorry, fucking what?”

The question is out before the rest of your body has time to process Charlie’s words, but even when you fully digest the information you’re still left feeling perplexed. What does she mean “rehabilitation”, what all does that entail, why did she have to call her girlfriend for this?

And, oh, how her patience seems to know no bounds for the smile that curls on her lips is soft, and her brow pulls together in what you can only call generosity. Like she understands your confusion; makes you wonder how often she goes through this schtick.

“Allow me to explain our predicament since you’re still new.”

And she does, in great detail, weaving a copper-scented tapestry with threads dyed the shades of suffering and heinous sin. In less pretentious terms, she regurgitates material you’ve only heard in passing. Hell is bursting at the seams with its substantial over population issue, one that only grows more exacerbated with each newcomer, and with limited real estate and even more limited resources the powers that be reached the conclusion long ago that a percentage just... has to go. Enter the exterminators, a team set out from the tippy topside whose sole purpose is to literally slash some numbers in half once a year.

Charlie doesn’t like this, in fact her exact words are “it kills me inside knowing that my people are being systematically annihilated” and honestly they kinda make you equate this to that of a speech from some representative- an authority figure, someone with power, which makes sense if this is her hotel. It’s pretty, the way she feels about the annual genocide, but you’ve yet to hear her alternative solution if she has any to begin with.

As the saying goes, actions do speak louder than words.

That’s when she genuinely explains the hotel’s purpose: to purge the demons of their vices, purify their souls, make right their wrong doings from when they were alive so that they can walk through the pearly gates as a reborn person, faultless and whole. Redemption. Rehabilitation. Because a hotel is only a temporary pitstop between two destinations.

The idea... makes enough sense, you guess.

“I mean, that’s neat, super admirable, and the whole idea of reforming demons instead of just- ya know- offing them sounds way better in comparison. But uhh- what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Charlie looks over at Vaggie before advancing her explanation, “you’re new. You haven’t regained your memories yet, your body hasn’t adapted yet, you still have your humanity- I mean you helped Niffty out of a tight spot without any expectation of a reward!”

“Nah, I just did what felt like the right thing at the time.”

“Exactly! We need someone like that here!”

Ah.

Now the picture has clarity.

What Charlie said earlier, “... if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!” that was merely another way of saying “we haven’t succeeded yet.” And judging by the way the hotel’s current residents, this motley crew of friends(?), they’ve been trying with people who have been here a lot longer than you have- you, a newbie that hasn’t gone through “the Change” yet, hasn’t full acclimated or been assimilated into the disgusting system of eternal suffering. Like they have. If redemption can be had here it’s more likely to be found with a newcomer like you, and if you can be saved then it’ll prove possible for anyone else.

At least that’s what you’ve surmised from the situation.

It doesn’t sit right with you though.

You did something topside to warrant your arrival here, or maybe you did a lot of things, or maybe you didn’t do enough, you don’t know and that’s the point. You don’t remember. There could be a mountain of skeletons shoved into your closet that you’re completely unaware of and until further notice that’s where they’re going to remain if they even exist.

You. Don’t. Know.

There are way too many unknown variables regarding your past- no, you’re very identity, and though you’ve been reassured on numerous occasions that that’s actually the standard here for newcomers... that doesn’t mean you deserve a second chance. Because who you were may not deserve it.

So don’t waste the room on a potential lost cause, is what you tell them.

“All the more reason to try it now before your memories can influence you.” Vaggie says in a firm voice, the very first you’ve heard her speak. 

And admittedly the logic is sound, you’re not trying to dispute that, it’s just... 

Not you- a clattering racket against the bar top- anyone else may deserve this opportunity- disrupts the conversation- but not you- and it takes all of two seconds to determine the source. It’s your phone, probably Mr. Terry announcing you officially dead to his business.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Still Vaggie.

As of right now, no, you really don’t.

“Residents can board here for free, you just have to stay clean- no sinning, at least as best you can.”

That’s not too bad, you think. Maybe you should-

No! No, one “good deed” doesn’t merit a shot at atonement. It’s not going to negate whatever it is you did to topside to leave you downside.

...but you’re more than likely out of a job now, one that barely paid enough to cover expenses to begin with, and losing your apartment is trailing not that far behind.

“What do you say, Newbie?”

“I-” the sudden dryness in your throat drags forth a minor coughing fit. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

You take a deep breath. “O-okay. Where’s the check-in sheet?”

____________________________________

a/u: mental health has been a bitch to deal with so i’m sorry that this took longer than i expected. i have half a mind to scrap this and redo it again but i’ma do this funky fresh thing where i stop overanalyzing it and put it out there for y’all to read. still no beta, and still no al yet, but we’re definitely getting c l o s e r, got this bitch all planned out and everything. y’all know the deal by now: like, reblog, and comment; the engagement makes my lil queer kokoro go doki doki

tagged: @kryptum-one @itz-kira @peachesandkats (i’m in love with all three of y’all, just letting you know)

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 1

Chapter title: Defense Rests

A/n: This is it! It's finally here! Idk if this will be read or enjoyed but I finally did it, I'm writing the Lawyer Logicality fic that I wanted to and I really hope you enjoy PLEase Leave CommEnts!! (Also this took so long because I HAD SO MANY DECISIONS TO MAKE SO)

First | Previous | Next

words: 2663

summary: Logan Tolentino and Patton Hart are rival lawyers, Roman Reial is their fanciful Judge and Detective Virgil Tormine has constant run-ins with the pair. From balancing children to murder cases its a whole lot of chaos and romance!

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus

warnings: Killing mention, blood mention, murder mention, planes

Ao3 Link

“Falsehood” Logan declares firmly, he turns to the prosecutor. He had been waiting for a few boring minutes now to finally intervene. This case was cut and dry, there was no need to drag it on. “My client could not have been there on the night in question” He pauses making his way over to the other tables and slamming down a file. The prosecutor eyes him before cautiously looking through the files. And there it was, the man's face falls as he shuffles through. Logan lives for that look, the look of absolute defeat. He turns to face the jury “Due to photographic AND video evidence both previously submitted to the court that my client was home-” He glances over his shoulder back at the prosecutor “All night, the defense rests” He states confidently. He makes his way back to a very starry-eyed client and a very smug look falls on his face. He feels the shock and impressed mark he's made on the jury. With that he leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table, he's pushing it but he knows the judge. He glances at the prosecutor and silently bathes in the disappointment that riddles the mans face. 

Check

And 

Mate

~~~

“Nicely done Logan” A regal voice booms from behind. “Although, I could have done without the feet on my tables” The judge warns. Logan lets out a small chuckle.

“Ah, but what's the fun in that Roman?” Logan asks the men make their way down the hall to ‘check out’ for the day. “I can not believe I got stuck with that excuse for a case, I mean really photographic and video evidence? The man was innocent before the case even begun” Logan sighs, He was in a bit of a dry spell lately with cases.

“What? Did you want a murder?” Roman chimes “Someone murdered in their own home but ah! Surprise they are still alive... “ And so Roman went on his tangents creating a whole story which Logan simply tuned out. Inside the courtroom, Roman was a fair and grueling judge, outside, however? He was a royal pain, Logan scanned his surroundings while the judge continued to talk, the courthouse was unusually quiet today. Typically Logan liked the quiet, except in the courthouse. The courthouse was supposed to be filled with guilty men pleading for their lives, there was supposed to be angry cops running around getting ready for the witness stands or being passive-aggressive towards the lawyers. Judges should be reviewing cases while eating lunch, random fights being broken out. This was a courthouse, not a library. 

“...Is that the case you want Logan?” Roman asks interrupting Logan's thoughts. The be-speckled man turns back to the judge tilting his head slightly. 

“Excuse me? Pardon me Roman but I wasn't really paying attention” Logan admits, the judge sighs defeated.

“You never are…” He mumbles. Logan shrugs, he studies the room one more time.

“Does it not seem odd?” He begins, Roman furrows his brow, Logan isn't one to not finish a thought. “The silence, the calm sense wafting through. Where's the chaos?” Roman recognizes the aggravation in the lawyer's voice. “I do not understand” Logan pushes his glasses up.

“I dunno what to tell you Logan” Roman pats the lawyer on the back “I have to go, however, I have some evidence I need to look over for a case tomorrow, oh and it's a good one” Roman teases, this gets Logan's attention, his eyes begging for more. “Ah, that gets your attention doesn't it?” Roman smiles, he gestures for Logan to follow him as they walk towards the parking lot. Logan follows reluctantly simply wanting to know more about the case. 

“Goodbye Judge Reial, goodbye Mr.Tolentino” The receptionist calls waving both men goodbye. Roman blows a friendly kiss, Logan simply waves rolling his eyes at the judge's antics.

“The case, Roman” Logan whines as they walk further into the lot. Roman lets out a laugh.

“Alright alright, Detective Tormine…” The judge pauses, Logan notices a crimson color rising in his face. He notices Logan staring and clears his throat continuing on “Brought me this case, it's an interesting one. A string of murders, absolutely no connection between the victims or the manner that they were killed. The only thing connecting them is a letter-” 

“A letter? What does that mean” Logan ponders, Roman shoots him a glare

“A letter of the alphabet, written in the victim's blood. So for weeks, nobody could find any evidence leading to the killer or any suspects until suddenly, a man confesses.” Roman flashes a smile hearing Logan’s silent gasp of interest.  “Odd right? Now obviously everyone's suspicious because this man has a perfect record. He might just be an outstanding citizen, but then all of a sudden the cops are re-evaluating the evidence and the crime scenes and boom! Traces of this man are everywhere.” Roman exclaims, he doesn’t mean to sound so excited. Logan shares his excitement, what a case. “Anyway, should have been cut and dry but the captain disagreed and decided it was going to court, my court to be precise-”

“Well, whos the prosecutor, the defense… what's going to happen?” Logan interrupts again, Roman was really getting sick of this.

“The prosecutor” Roman seethes “-hasn't been named yet, however, the defense is... “ Roman holds up a finger as he fumbles for his case file, shuffling through the papers quickly “Ah, here it is… the defense is... Oh, interesting..” Roman murmurs, Logan was getting impatient.

“Roman? The defense?” 

“Oh yes, its Patton Hart” Now it was Logan's turn to blush “Seems he's back in town after..” Romans eyes grow wide “Winning the ‘Cruiser Murder’ case?! Wow, we all thought that was hopeless, oh I'm excited to see him again…” Roman trails off reminiscing about the cheerful lawyer. Logan once again tunes him out, enveloping himself into his own thoughts. Patton Hart of all people? Logan pictured the cheerful man's face after their last encounter, the blush grew stronger. 

~~~

“Nicely done Lo!” A cheerful voice calls through the hall, Logan huffs annoyed and turns to find Patton skipping towards him. He glares subtly at the man who simply ignores it. “Better luck next time though, you're really good but you have to learn how to read your clients emotions” Logan curses at how genuine the man sounds. 

“Thank you Mr.Hart” Logan seethes annoyed, he really hated losing. “Next time, I'll make sure to sit down with my client and have a real heart to heart” He says sarcastically. Patton lets out an adoring giggle, Logan feels his defenses crack. 

“That's the spirit, Lo! And that was also definitely a pun!” Patton notices happily. Logan groans, ‘Heart to Heart’ damnit.

“I assure, never will I ever-”

“Make an intentional pun, yes I know” Patton interjects sighing, their eyes meet but are quickly torn apart at a small chime. Patton looks down at his phone and smiles “Ah seems I must get going, I have to catch a flight but I'll see you soon Lo!” Patton chimes, he begins to walk away to which Logan quickly grasps his arm.

“A flight? May I ask where you are going? And for how long?” Logan inquires, Patton slithers his arm out of Logan's grasp.

“I've been requested for a case up-” He snickers “In Canada, so I must get going. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone” Logan's face falls a tad bit, Patton notices “But that just means you will have loads of time to catch up!” He jokes, Logan, rolls his eyes. 

“Well erm… good luck Patton” He says finally, Patton nods gratefully and makes his way out the door disappearing into the crowds of people. 

~~~

“...Anyway, I will be excited to see him” Roman finishes, Logan turns to the judge quickly dismissing the thoughts of their last encounter months ago and nods. “I should get going, see you tomorrow Logan” Logan nods and watches as Roman gets into his car and leaves. Logan is left standing, stuck on this impossible road, one eager thought occupies his mind.

I must get on that case.

~~~

“Remus, Valerie will you two please sit still?” Patton begged as he tried to buckle his chaotic twins into their plane seats. The twins stopped fidgeting for a moment allowing Patton to secure their buckles. He quickly apologizes to the people behind him in the aisle before taking his seat in the middle of the two. He learned his mistake on the flight there not to let the twins sit next to each other. He took a deep breath having finally settled in. 

“Papa why does Remus get to sit next to the window” Valerie tugs on her father's cardigan. Patton looks at his daughter lovingly stroking her fluffy hair. 

“Val, you got the window on the flight here, so Remus gets it now” Patton explained, his daughter pouts defeated. Patton lets out a little laugh before feeling a tug on his other side. “Yes, Remus?” Patton turns to his other kid. 

“Dada, can I have my scooby snacks?” Remus asks spouting his best puppy eyes. Patton can't help but laugh, Remus was unfortunately not as good at it as his brother, although his crazy eyes were something. He ruffled his son's hair before pulling out two packets of snacks and handing one to Remus and another to Valerie. The kids giggle excited and dive in. Patton takes this moment to set up their entertainment and helping them open up their cartoons. Valerie picks Steven Universe and Patton hears her humming the theme song. Remus decides he wants to watch Chowder and Patton watches as he tries to belt the theme song disturbing some tired passengers nearby. He shoots the other passengers a glare and happily encourages his kids. Slowly the plane commotion calms down and they take off. Patton clutches nervously to the side practicing his breathing, 4 seconds in, hold, and out, just like he told you. He felt two small hands being placed over his. He looks down and smiles at his two kids giving him little smiles of support of their own. He kisses them both quickly on the forehead before they turn their attention back to their shows. 

~~~

“Alright, kiddos let's go get our bags so we can head home” Patton explains leading his two tired children towards baggage claim. Remus stops abruptly and lets out a little groan, Patton turns to the little one and kneels in front of him. 

“What's wrong buddy?”  Patton asks examining his son's face. Remus shuffles his feet playing around with his little suitcase. “Remus…” Patton pried.

“I've tired Dada, my feet hurt” Remus whines softly hiding behind his suitcase. Patton chuckles lightly before turning around. Remus gasps excited and quickly crawls onto his father's back. “Piggyback!” He shouts gleefully, Patton shushes cheerfully laughing. Patton looks over to Valerie expectantly. He silently asks if she wants a piggyback ride as well. She shakes her head politely and takes Patton's hand once more, following alongside him happily. The trio continues along their way. They walk along the unusually quiet aisles of the airport. It's late and Patton is worried about who might be lurking in the darkness of this travel center. Finally reaching the baggage claim and collecting their things the trio make their way to the exit to call a taxi, Patton is pleasantly surprised at a familiar face. 

“Roman!” Valerie exclaims suddenly running out of Patton grasp and leaving her own little suitcase behind. Patton picks up his speed a bit, still securing a now sleeping Remus on his back. He catches up to a now very giddy Valerie being spun around by Roman. He sets her down gently and turned to a very tired father.

“Roman? What are you doing here?” Patton inquires, feeling Remus drool on his shoulder. Roman’s face falls slightly “N-not that I’m not happy to see you…” He yawns “I’m sorry it's been a long day.” Roman chuckles picking up Valerie and hoisting the little girl up.

“No worries! Just thought I’d pick you up, and bring you home, that ok Padre?” Roman explains, Patton nods eternally grateful having not to call a taxi. He takes one of Patton's luggage and Valerie's suitcase and leads them to his car. Patton follows now cradling a sleeping Remus and lugging the rest of the suitcases behind him. 

“Roman! Roman! Roman! Canada was so cool! We went to the aquarium and we got to go on a boat and we ate some many donuts” Valerie gushes, Roman listens intently to every word the excited girl says. Patton sighs happily, he did love the trip but the murder case kind of brought down the mood. He was happy to be home with his kiddos and his friends. 

“That sounds wonderful Princesa!” Roman replies, the little boy smiles at his nickname. They reach Roman’s car and he helps Patton buckle the kids into the back kissing both on the forehead. Remus stays sleeping and after a bit more rambling from Valerie she falls asleep as well. The drive from the airport to his home was a long one so Patton settles in and watches the soft Florida rain dripping down the window and letting his eyes droop at the peacefulness of it all. Roman begins humming a familiar tune soothing the restless man. Patton turns to him listening intently and happily.

“You alright Pat?” Roman asks noticing his stare. Patton perks up suddenly clearing his throat.

“Yes, yes of course..” He replies yawning, rubbing his eyes. Roman huffs doubtful, Patton sighs “I just...the case it was…” He stops shaking his head “Nevermind, I'm just tired” He says firmly Roman, still unsure, decides not to push. So they sit in comfortable silence with each other all the way home. Roman pulls into the dark garage of Patton's home, all the lights off. Patton shivers at the sight of his usually bubbly home. Roman helps him load in the suitcases and places them neatly by the door. Patton carefully unbuckles the boys hoping not to wake them. With Roman’s help, he brings them up to their room and tucks them in successfully. Once the nightlights are on and the boys are sound asleep snoring it's time for Roman to go. 

“Thank you Roman” Patton whispers carefully shutting the door to the boy's bedroom. They make their way back downstairs and sit at the kitchen counter. “For picking us up, and for helping me today” He continues with a little more volume. Roman waves him off.

“Of course Pat! That's what friends are for” Smiling sweetly, Patton chuckles. 

“Can I get you anything before you go? Coffee, tea, water, cookies?” Patton offers reluctant to let his friend go and be left alone once more. He also just really wants to make cookies. Roman laughs.

“No...no I should get home, you must be exhausted. Plus big day tomorrow!” Patton swallows, he wants to protest but knows he shouldn't. He suppresses his words with a smile before insisting Roman take a few of the treats they brought from Canada. Roman accepts graciously and Patton watches him pull out of the driveway and disappear into the starless night. Patton takes a moment to soak in the still house before moving to his study and unpacking his work materials. Roman was right, it was a big day. Tomorrow will mark the first official day of a new case. Patton would take the position of defense in a string of murders. He was nervous, everyone believes it to be hopeless. Patton understood the man had confessed. But when Patton met face to face with him, he knew. This man was innocent-

“-and I'm going to prove it” Patton declares, having a bad feeling however being put onto another murder trial. He sits determined at his desk and begins going through the evidence.

[petri808]

The Wishing Well

Whew, I made it lol.  This is my story for the awesome @nalufever for the Nalu server’s secret Valentine’s Exchange.  LoL we had each other!  Omg, I hope you like it, I was trying to come up with a story around the idea we once talked about.  It ended up being a fluffy short story lol.  Okie here we go.

“Miss Lucy!” the little girl waves her hand excitedly from across the room.  “Miss, Miss, Miss!”

“Yes, Wendy?” the teacher’s aide walks up to the table and kneels, “are you finished with your drawing?” Nodding her head with a small blush upon her cheeks, the child holds her drawing up for Lucy to see.  “That’s wonderful Wendy!  Is that your cat?  But why is it blue?”

Wendy smiles wide, “name’s Happy!  Don’ know why he blue tho but it’s cute!”

“Yes,” Lucy chuckles, eyes brimming with delight, “he’s very cute!”  

Content with the response, Wendy goes back to doodling a new cartoon while the teachers aid floats around the room checking on other students.  Lucy loved this part time job even though it wasn’t quite in the field she was studying for, the credit still counted, the pay was decent, and not to mention the students were adorable most of the time.  Of course, there were a few that could be a handful, but nothing the bubbly 22 yr old blonde couldn’t handle and besides, the teacher Mirajane was also a blessing to work with.

Storytime was probably Lucy’s favorite part of the day.  Books had always been her sanctum even from a young age and to impart that same love into these children was like paying it forward for the new generation.  They would gather round her with their snacks, the eager little faces and once a week she even delighted them with original little stories she would create just for them.  Filled with characters like Princesses and Dragons, of mythical elves and other magical creatures, even using their names mixed in to make it come alive for the awestruck youngsters.

Lucy smiles from her desk, this school year was shaping up to be a great one.

Across town at Magnolia University, a young man hurries out of class.  Checking his phone, he’s got 30 minutes to get to the primary school and pick up his sister, but traffic is often a pain at this hour.  His sister-in-law Mavis usually picked Wendy up but today she had an appointment leaving Natsu to rush.  It’s been a struggle for the 24-year-old, being thrust into the role of guardian at the age of 20, to drop out of college and take time off to raise a 2-year-old.  Not that it mattered, there was no way he was going to allow Wendy to be sent to a foster home after their parents died.  It wasn’t her fault tragedy struck and left her an orphan, so he was going to lavish that little girl with all the love and affection their parents would have given her.

He thrums his fingers on the steering wheel, as the car slowly crawled its way towards the front of the school.  The line of parents patiently waiting to pick up kids was pretty typical, however annoying it may be, but a requirement for the students in kindergarten and first grades for release at the end of the day.  Teachers and security waited with the children, handing them off as each car pulled up.  Natsu smiles when he finally sees the tell-tale blue hair of Wendy bouncing as she waves to him.

“How was your day at school Wendy?” popping the question as the first grader buckled herself in to her booster.  

With a click and a bubbly response, “lots’a fun!  We drew and Ms. Lucy read us a story!  Ms. Lucy always has awesomest stories to tell!  Yuck, then Mrs. Dreyar gave us reading to do.”  

Natsu chuckles, side-eying through the rearview, “What’s with the pouty face?  I thought you like reading?”

“Not for homework.  I wanna read for fun!”

That only makes him laugh harder, “tell ya what, how about we get some ice cream at the mall, then I’ll read with you, sound better?”

Wendy’s face lights up, “Yay!  Ice Cream!”

“Kozmic Cones it is!”

On the opposite side of the mall nestled near the food court, Faeries Café was a popular little hangout.  Good food that even a college kid could afford drew them in at all hours of the day. Lucy was no exception and today was her weekly meet up with her best friend Levy McGarden for coffee.  It had become a routine ever since they’d finished their undergraduate programs and moved on to graduate work, she in the field of English Lit while Levy focused on Ancient Linguistics.  Between classes and working jobs they rarely had much time anymore to hang out.  

“How are things going with Gajeel,” the blonde stirred at the slowly warming coffee, “did you guys pick a date for the wedding yet?”

“He said not until after I graduate, which is only one more semester, so I agreed.”

Lucy leans onto her propped hand with a light smile, “You’re so lucky you found someone already Lev, I’m really happy for you two.”

“Aww, Lu you’ll find someone,” the bluenette reaches over the table and grabs her friend’s free hand, squeezing it before retracting back into her seat, “and I bet it’ll happen when you least expect it to.”

But the blonde just sighs, “Doubt it, I’m so busy I don’t have time to meet anyone unless they are under the age of 7,” chuckling lightly, “and no one in my college classes are very interesting to me.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since him that I can recall.”  Levy taps her chin, “maybe it’s not that you can’t but won’t look at anyone else.”

“What are you my psychiatrist now?!”  teasing at her friend.  “I’m fine, really, not like I don’t have enough on my plate to deal with, right? And as for my ex,” Lucy shrugs her shoulders, “we lost touch in college…”

The girls spend about an hour chatting and catching up, planning that upcoming weekend when another friend will be dropping by town.  Cana Alberona was never one to stay still for very long but luckily her job in fashion fit her personality well, jet setting around to photograph models and actors for Sorcerer’s Magazine.  She was so different in personality from the other two girls and yet the trio were inseparable in high school.  It wasn’t really their thing, but for Cana, hitting a bar or club was definitely going to be on the agenda.

Which was fine, she guessed, nothing wrong with hanging out with a couple of girlfriends at a bar.  Hopefully no one bothers us….  Ugh, but some guy always does!  As she walked away from the café, Lucy hangs her head wondering if her love life would always be a struggle.  She was sick and tired of even trying to meet guys when it usually turned out they only wanted her, sighing, for my assets….  It wasn’t her fault she was born with these curves, even thought about getting a reduction one day just so she didn’t have to deal with them anymore.  

There had only been one serious relationship in her life and while the guy definitely loved her body, Lucy knew it wasn’t the reason he’d asked her out in the first place.  Back then surrounded by so many friends, she’d never cared much about having boyfriends or being in relationships but funny how things change and now 5 years later, it was kind of lonely.  

She sees the wishing well a few feet away, absent mindedly pulling out a coin as she walked towards it. It was such a silly thing to make a wish and throw away a perfectly good quarter but well, flicking the shiny metal into the water, what could it hurt, right?  To have someone like him back in her life again, maybe the false smiles she wore would finally be real.

“Ms. LUCY!!!”

“Wendy?”  The young blonde turns around to the voice of her student, semi-surprised though this was a mall and all, just in time to have the little girl hugging to her legs.  “Wendy, what a nice surprise to see you here!” Lucy hugs the girl back, “but who are you with sweetie?”

The little girl, with eyes practically shining, bounces on her feet pointing behind her, “my brother gots me ice cream.”

“Your broth…” As she follows Wendy finger, Lucy cannot believe what she’s seeing.  “N-Natsu!” a light gasp as her hands fly up to her mouth and moisture clouds her vision.  “Oh my god! I-Is it really you?”  

Sporting the trade mark goofy grin that she knew better than most plastered on his face, “Yeah it’s me, heya Lucy,” scratching his head, “Didn’t realize you were the teacher she always talks about.  How ya been?”

Tears trickle down her cheeks and before she can stop them, her feet carry her towards him, hands flying into fists.  In that moment Lucy’s surroundings fade away and all she can see is Natsu, standing there in the flesh.  No Wendy, no shoppers, just him.  “Why!?” She beats at his chest, “no calls, no texts, no goodbye!  Four years! Y-you just left me hanging how could you Natsu!”  

“Luce…” he had no idea what he could say to the sobbing woman in his arms to slow her tears, grabbing her hands to stop their fury but keeping them held tightly to his chest. She was right, everything she said was the truth.  Natsu was an asshole for not making the effort to contact her as soon as he could, and he knew that.  So, he did the only thing he could and held her quietly, whispering soft apologizes and hoping it would be enough to soothe the pain he never knew she had held onto.        

Eventually Lucy slumps against him, liquid still flowing but her sobs withering into lighter exhalations. “I’m sorry,” her voice strained and muffled, “I didn’t mean to break down like that.”

“No,” Natsu pulls her head against his shoulder, cradling the back of her head, “don’t be sorry, I should have reached out to you too it’s just that…”

“I know about your parents….  I ran into Gray a couple years ago and he told me that’s what happened.”  Lucy pushes away just enough to look up at the taller man. “Natsu I would have been there for you if you’d have let me, you didn’t have to do it all alone.”

“I know Luce…. We…”

A meek voice breaks through the din, “I-Is Ms. Lucy okay?”

“Oh my!” Lucy pushes away and drops to her knees beside the little girl, followed quickly by the elder brother.  Still wiping away the streaks of salty liquid, Lucy takes the child’s hand, “I’m so sorry you had to see that Wendy.  I’m okay really, I am I promise.  We,” glancing to Natsu who nods, “we went to high school together and haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

The poor child’s face is still sullen and full of worry.  “Are you, are you mad at my brother Ms. Lucy?  Did my brother hurt you?”

“He…”

Natsu put his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, cutting off her response.  Turning to his little sister, “I did, a long time ago when you were still very young, I made Lucy very, very sad.”

“But he didn’t mean to sweetie,” Lucy chimes in trying to comfort the child, “your brother was going through a lot of things and it just happened.”

“So, you really aren’t mad at my brother?”

“No, I’m not,” the woman smiles.  “I rather like your brother a lot.”  Lucy feels the warmth tingling in her cheeks but does her best not to show it.  “He’s, you know like how we learned about the bad guys and the good guys in class?”  The child nods.  “Your brother is one of the good guys.”

That brings a delighted smile back to Wendy’s face.  “I think so too!  He takes really good care of me after mommy and daddy died.”  

“I’m sure he does,” Lucy smiles back.

“Wendy, honey,” Natsu steps in handing out some change to the girl, “would you like to go make some wishes while I finish talking to Ms. Lucy?”  The child looks to her teacher, then back to her brother nodding, taking the change and skipping off to the wishing well.  “What’s the odds that she’d end up in your class?” turning to the girl still crouched, Natsu helps Lucy to her feet, “or running into each other at the mall’s wishing well?”

Lucy shakes her head rather than respond.  Magnolia wasn’t a large city, it was bound to happen sooner or later so there was no point in making it out to be anything more than mere coincidence.  “I-I sh-should probably go so you can get back to Wendy.” Lucy turns away.  “I must look like a mess right now…”  

“You are still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

The blonde stiffens. His words…. His tone… sends an electric shock through her frame.  Tingling along her skin when his hand comes to rest on her shoulder and the heat radiating from his body infringing upon her space.  

“I’m such an idiot for letting you go once.  You must be settled down by now with someone….”

She shakes her head, refusing to turn around, and answering in a soft tone, “there hasn’t really been anyone since you.  No one’s ever treated me…. the way you used to treated me…”

One hand on her shoulder turns into two around her waist.  “I don’t expect you to forgive me Luce, but if it’s any consolation, I still love you, maybe even more now, knowing how much Wendy adores you too.”  Lucy squeezes her eyes shut, willing back the tears again. “Would you give me a second chance?”

“Please say Yes!”  The young man and woman’s heads whip around to see a beaming Wendy practically bouncing.  “Please say yes Ms. Lucy!”

Natsu let go of Lucy’s waist, turning her to face him.  “Well, Ms. Lucy?”  A large grin growing on his face with the thought of buying his sister that new dress she’s been fawning over.  “You wouldn’t want to make your student sad, would you?”

“Gah, you really haven’t changed,” she punches his arm, playfully with a smirk.  “Lucky you,” grabbing his shirt, “I still love that goofier side,” and pulling him down for a kiss….  

[bytheangell]

Dreaming Wide Awake - Ch 4

(read on AO3) (read from the start)

The weekend home before his trip with Alec is a whirlwind of events. With so little time to spend with his friends and family there he’s out from dawn until well beyond dusk, grabbing coffees or dinners or hitting up the local bars… even making time for the bowling alley with Cat, Ragor, and the rest of their friends from home who are all equal parts disappointed to wait an extra month to have him back properly and eager to hear all about his vacation with his new boyfriend when he does get back. 

For the sake of avoiding awkward (and potentially incriminating towards their story) comments on any social media posts he might make, Magnus decides it’s easiest to just tell everyone he and Alec recently started dating. Only Ragnor and Catarina know the truth. He figures he owes that much to them, as they’ve put up with much of his lamenting over dating not being the case ever since he developed feelings for Alec. 

“You’re positive you want to do this?” Ragnor asks one last time as they have a parting drink the night before Magnus leaves. 

“Am I positive I want to spend a month in Italy with the gorgeous guy I like?” Magnus turns the question around on him, eyebrow arched. 

Ragnor rolls his eyes. “You know that isn’t the part I meant. And, for the record, I still think this is a terrible idea.” 

“Yes, I’m aware. You’ve managed to say it about a dozen times a day since it happened. And for the dozenth time in today’s batch: yes, I’m positive I want to do this. I’ll be fine.” Even as he says the words out loud he feels the swell of doubt rise up around them. 

“We’re just a skype call away if you end up being wrong,” Cat reminds him reassuringly. 

“You mean when he ends up being-” Ragnor starts, much less reassuringly, before Magnus cuts him off. 

“Thanks. Both of you, I suppose, but mostly Cat who is my only true friend here it seems.” He sniffs dramatically in feigned affront. 

They finish their drinks and turn in early so Magnus isn’t a walking zombie while meeting Alec’s parents for the first time the following morning. As his 4 am alarm goes off he hits it without even opening his eyes, cursing the Lightwoods for having such an early flight. He has enough bags to carry without worrying about the ones under his eyes, which he does his best to mask with concealer on the cab ride to the airport. 

The only good thing about this hour is the general lack of traffic. He gets to the airport early, which means he gets there extra early, as he already planned on making sure to beat the Lightwoods to make a good first impression. He winds up falling asleep in a chair that should, realistically, be too uncomfortable to actually nap in, only to snap awake at the sound of his name. 

“Magnus!” 

His eyes open to the sight of Alec, a coffee the size of his head held tightly in one hand while the other wheels luggage behind him in addition to a duffle over his shoulder. Next is Isabelle who - like Magnus - clearly gave herself some extra time to get ready this morning, looking a vision in strappy heels and a red dress. Bringing up the rear are who Magnus can only assume are Maryse, Robert, and Max. 

“Alec!” Magnus greets, forcing the enthusiasm through his hazy sleepiness as he stands up and takes a few steps toward Alec to meet him. Once they reach one another, though, they both freeze. They didn’t consider this part of things, which in retrospect is a terrible mistake. Do they hug? Kiss? Continue to stand there staring at one another like they never met before in their entire lives? 

Magnus knows what he’d like to do. That much is easy enough: he wants to use this as an excuse to greet Alec with the sort of soft, lingering kiss he never gets to during their hookups. And if he knew Alec would be okay with it right off the bat he’d have no trouble doing it now. The problem is that he doesn’t want to overstep - how much of a show is he supposed to put on before Alec might grow uncomfortable with how eager Magnus is to play this role? How many not-strictly-necessary kisses would it take before Alec would realize--

“You don’t have to not kiss on our behalf,” Maryse says, coming up behind Alec (who turns rather red at the comment and suddenly grows extremely interested in his shoes). It’s difficult to read her tone - she seems like the sort of person who is curt and to-the-point more often than not, but her words feel almost dismissive. 

Of course, he could just be reading too much into it. It’s early. Everyone’s tired, and he’s a stranger among their family. Of course she’s going to sound a little distant… right? 

“Duly noted, Mrs. Lightwood,” Magnus says with a small, nervous laugh. He’s glad that any nerves will be chalked up to meeting the parents for the first time - which they are not about - and not the fact that he has no idea how to comfortably act like Alec’s boyfriend - which they are 100% about. 

“How do you look so perfect for 7 am in an airport?” Alec asks, and Magnus laughs genuinely this time, dispelling any awkwardness from a moment ago. 

“A cab ride full of concealer and eye cream,” Magnus admits. 

At that Maryse turns back to properly take in his appearance, lingering on his eyes which are done up with liner and a touch of shadow. For a moment Magnus is afraid she’s about to make some comment about boys and makeup. 

She looks him up and down, considering, and then says, “I don’t suppose you have any to spare? As the driver this morning, I didn’t get that extra hour some of us did for makeup.” The last bit is added very pointedly in Isabelle’s direction. 

“I offered to drive-” Isabelle starts, but is quickly cut off by a chorus of frantic, “No!”s from the rest of her family, Max included, leaving her to drop her bag next to a chair and sit down with a pout. 

Magnus barely hides the look of pleasant surprise from his face, but manages to only allow Alec to catch the brief flicker of it before he turns back to Alec’s mother. 

“Of course! Let me find it…” Magnus doesn’t have to do much digging in his bag, as it was recently used and still at the top, before pulling out the product and hanging it over to Mrs. Lightwood with a smile. “Here you go, have at it.” 

“Thank you, Magnus. You’re a lifesaver. All of mine is buried in the very bottom of my luggage, it would be a disaster to try and get to it without ruining the entire suitcase.” 

“Which I barely managed to close as it is,” Robert points out. 

Maryse rolls her eyes before wandering off towards the nearest restroom to use the mirror, and Magnus looks down to see the practically bulging bag in question. It looks one wrong move away from exploding the contents out of it cartoon-style. 

As far as first impressions go, Magnus thinks to himself that this one is probably one of his better experiences with someone’s parents. Alec sidles up to him, arms now free of luggage and coffee, to wrap one of said free arms around Magnus’ waist; Magnus tenses instinctively before allowing himself to ease into it. 

 He questions whether he’ll ever get used to such casual moments with Alec, only to find he’s more afraid that he will, and that’d be an even bigger problem when their month is up and it’s back to the way things were before. 

“She likes you already,” Alec says, grinning. 

“She loves that my makeup was at the top of my bag,” Magnus corrects, but secretly hopes Alec is right. “Your father’s been suspiciously quiet, though,” he adds, glancing in Robert’s direction. 

“...that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t have much good to say when he does speak around me these days…” Alec mutters, and Magnus feels an immediate pang of sympathy. 

Alec doesn’t talk about his family too often, and when he does it’s usually to vent. Which makes sense, given their usual turn of events from venting angry frustrations to relieving that stress via spectacular sex.  So of course Magnus knows when Alec is stressed out about his family or having a fight with his parents, but everyone has those days. He didn’t realize it was as constant of a tension as Alec hints. 

Before Magnus has a chance to say anything about it Alec’s younger brother is standing in front of him, eyeing him curiously. 

  “You’re wearing girl makeup.” Max states simply. Magnus cringes internally but manages to keep a diplomatic smile on his face all the while. 

“Max!” Alec hisses, not quite as patient while his face betrays his instant mortification. 

“Actually, Max, it’s just makeup. It doesn’t have to be for girls, boys can wear it, too.” He gives the correction gently, doing his best to make this a teachable moment. After all, one is never too young to learn the importance of-

“Max, why don’t you come over here? I need help with something.” Robert calls over suddenly, and though Max sees nothing suspicious about the sudden and vague request that draws his attention away from Magnus it’s very clear to the rest of them why Robert called him away. 

“Sorry about him,” Alec says, and if Magnus isn’t mistaken he thinks he can hear a slight shake to his words. “I didn’t think he’d be this much of an ass right away.” 

“No apologies necessary, really,” Magnus reassures him. “It isn’t your fault. And a little avoidance is hardly the worst I’ve had to suffer in my life.” It’s sad, but true, that situations such as this one hardly phase him anymore. The only reason he cares at all is because he really wants Alec’s parents to like him… and so far that judgment seems to be very up for debate. 

The time before boarding passes quickly with Alec and Izzy talking to him for most of it, as well as some generic (and slightly forced) get-to-know-you lines of questioning from Alec’s parents (mostly Maryse). 

It’s a relief when they board and he gets a row with Izzy and Alec, leaving the others behind them where he doesn’t have to talk to them for the next 8 hours. 

“Want to share?” Alec asks, holding out one of his wireless headphones for Magnus to take. Magnus doesn’t even question what music Alec is listening to - over their year and a half of friendship the pair of them often traded music and movie recs, to the point that for the most part each has a good enough idea of what the other does and doesn’t like without having to ask. There isn’t a doubt in Magnus’ mind that he’ll enjoy whatever is playing - Alec wouldn’t hand it to him otherwise. 

He wonders briefly when he started trusting Alec so implicitly.

He wonders if it wouldn’t be wiser to try and stop that instinct while he’s ahead, before he’s entrusting Alec with more than he means to. 

Taking the headphone, the sound that reaches his ears startles a laugh out of him. 

“You’re really listening to Simon’s band on your phone?” Magnus questions, giving Alec an incredulous look. 

“Oh, but not just any of Simon’s music; what’s gracing your eardrums right now is one of six previously unheard, unreleased tracks from his upcoming project. He wants my - which by association is now our - quote: ‘honest, unforgiving feedback’.” 

“...we’re going to tell him we love it no matter what, aren’t we?” Magnus asks, and Alec nods emphatically. 

“Oh, absolutely.” They share a knowing grin before both fall silent, listening to over 30 minutes of what ends up being a surprisingly promising sample of new tracks. When they’re finished Magnus tries to stay awake to talk with Alec a little longer, but despite his best efforts that early morning wake-up finally gets to him and he falls asleep. 

Alec shakes him awake for lunch and they make it through part of a movie before it’s Alec’s turn to give in to sleep, eyes drooping once, and then twice, before his head drops to the side and falls onto Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus shifts slightly so that Alec’s head can rest more comfortably for both of them and catches Izzy’s gaze in the process. She smiles at him, something soft and appreciative over the sight of Alec curled up against him. He should feel reassured that she seems to approve but all he can feel is a twinge of guilt. He doesn’t deserve that look - he isn’t taking care of Alec, not the way she thinks he is. 

Not the way he wants to. 

 He isn’t tired anymore but he also isn’t up for the ‘so, you and alec…’ line of questioning he can see on the tip of Izzy’s tongue, so he closes his eyes before she can start and leans his head over to rest against Alec’s. Out of sheer force of will he manages to fall asleep on and off again the rest of the flight. 

The plane lands on time and they grab their bags out of the overhead compartments before shuffling down the aisle and out of the plane. 

“Holy shit, even the airport is gorgeous,” Magnus says, eyeing the impressive arched ceiling of the airport which is a far cry from the ones he’s used to in New York and Jersey. The black and off-white sleek design is strikingly modern, with the second floor visible from the first through curved walkways and carved out flooring, giving the building an open feel not normally associated with the rushed, cramped image of an airport full of people and lines and chairs crammed together for efficiency, not style. 

Alec laughs. “If you’re that impressed already I won’t even have to try the rest of the trip.” 

Magnus knows Alec’s only joking, but it’s enough to make him rethink the way he’s reacting to the things around them. He wants to make a good first impression, after all, not highlight how entirely uncultured he is every time he opens his mouth. The difference between him and the Lightwoods is… well, it’s a lot. His family never hurt for money but they weren’t particularly well off, either. Magnus lived a comfortable life growing up, traveling abroad once for a school trip and once on a ‘vacation’ to Indonesia to visit family there. 

His comfort ran out his senior year in high school, unfortunately, when Magnus didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps by joining the Army like his father, and his father before him. They were a proud line of military commanders and Magnus wanted no part of it. The only reason he’s in the same college as Alec is because of his scholarship - his father made it very clear if Magnus wanted to ‘waste his studies’ focusing on human rights law then he could support himself. 

So he did. 

He imagines he will be for the rest of his life now, estranged from the only father he ever knew over something as petty as not wanting to go into what had become somewhat of a family tradition… and that’s a train of thought Magnus is quick to cut off, knowing that Alec is very likely going to enter into his own family’s firm after graduation next year. It’d make sense - the money and status right off the bat would be impossible to beat anywhere else. 

“Magnus? You alright?” Alec asks, and Magnus realizes he’s been lost in his thoughts long enough that he blindly followed Izzy to the baggage claim without even noticing he was walking. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.” Magnus says, and the answer is so pointedly vague that Alec just makes a noncommittal noise of understanding but doesn’t pry. 

“Come on everyone! The car is waiting!” Maryse calls out to get everyone’s attention, and Magnus is thankful for the immediate distraction from his drifting thoughts. It’ll be another few hours of travel to Sperlonga, where the villa they’re staying in is located. 

Magnus grabs his bag and turns to follow Maryse with Alec right beside him, heading towards a six-seater van that takes them to the house on the coast. It’s evening in Italy already so the drive isn’t much for sight-seeing. Magnus mostly regrets falling asleep on the plane for as long as he did because now he knows he’ll be awake most of the night and half-asleep tomorrow for their first proper day here. 

Then again, with the whole month in front of them, maybe he can just sleep in and not do anything tomorrow. He realizes that he hadn’t spoken with Alec much about plans for the trip - are the Lightwoods the sort to have every moment already scheduled to a T, or could he spend every single day inside of the villa if he wanted to (not that he ever would, but hypothetically)? 

“So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” he asks casually. 

“Whatever you want,” Alec replies almost immediately.

“And if I want to sleep in and get breakfast at noon?” Magnus offers as a test. 

“Then mid-day mimosas it is,” Alec agrees without missing a beat. “We usually take the first few days to adjust to the time change anyway - unless you want to do something right away, which we totally can. It’s all pretty relaxed, I think my mom booked a vineyard visit one day next week, maybe? But there isn’t an itinerary or anything like that. And we don’t all have to do the same thing - if you want to skip out on something at any point just say the word. I want you to have fun this month, not just feel like you’re tagging along.” 

It’s a nice sentiment and all, but Magnus can’t imagine a scenario of this where he doesn’t feel exactly like that. It isn’t as if Alec’s family knows him at all so of course he’s mostly going to feel like an outsider... which he knew going into this, of course. In fact, Magnus is counting on it to work in his favor - the more he can remind himself of that, the less likely he is to grow too comfortable in a role that isn’t really his. 

“Of course,” he says out loud, with a forced smile Alec can’t see in the dark anyway. 

“If you think I’m going anywhere besides the pool tomorrow, you’re sorely mistaken,” Isabelle chimes up from the seat in front of them, and they chat a bit amongst themselves the rest of the ride over places they might want to go throughout the month. There are quite a few places he rattles off, some he’s mentioned to Alexander before like Matera, and others he’s sure the Lightwoods have seen a million times over like Siena and Cinque Terre. 

Despite his previous concerns over sleep Magnus finds himself surprisingly travel-worn by the time they arrive. Even in the dark he can tell that the place is impressive; and when Alec said coastal he meant coastal - Magnus can hear the crashing waves close by even if he can’t see them and can only imagine the view the morning will bring. 

Magnus does his best not to gape when they step into the house itself. It has more than enough space for the six of them and the kitchen and dining area is the size of Magnus’ entire apartment back home. 

The Lightwoods are immediately at home the moment they walk in the door, with Max making a bee-line for the kitchen and Robert heading off towards what Magnus assumes is his and Maryse’s bedroom with their luggage in tow. Isabelle looks about to do the same when Maryse stops her. 

“Isabelle, Alec, the two of you should switch rooms this time,” she says, a suggestion which garners immediate disapproval from both siblings. 

“What?” “Why?!” 

“I know Alec doesn’t mind the smaller space for himself, but considering he has a guest this time I think it’s only fair to give the two of them the larger room. Don’t you?” Maryse points out, and though she words it like an option the tone behind her words makes it very clear that this is happening, one way or another. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine, Alexander and I can make do with-” Magnus begins, not wanting to be the reason for a family spat this early in the trip, but Izzy is already relaxed beside him from her original outburst. 

“No, it’s fine! I didn’t even think about that. Alec always gives me the room with the bigger bed because he knows I’m the spoiled little sister. But you two need it much more than I do.” Izzy adds that last part lower so Maryse doesn’t hear, coupling it with a suggestive wink as she passes by the two of them. “Enjoy!” 

Well, she might not know the true nature of their relationship but she isn’t wrong about every aspect of it. Magnus does his best not to laugh at the look of pure mortification on Alec’s face.

“Something wrong?” Maryse asks, but the strange look on Alec’s face passes just as quickly behind a flash of a smile. 

“No, nothing- come on, Magnus, I’ll show you to our room.” Alec says quickly, turning away from his mom and starting off in the same direction Isabelle just went. 

Our room , Magnus thinks, thankful Alec can’t see the small smile that tugs involuntarily at the corners of his lips before he can hide it. 

Magnus doesn’t know why he didn’t consider it before. Of course Alec’s parents would expect them to stay in the same room - they aren’t high schoolers who need to be separated and checked in on before bed, after all. 

It’s a nice sized room, with more than enough closet and dresser space for the two of them and a television mounted to the wall in front of the king-sized bed. Alec is already looking from the bed to Magnus, biting down on his lip for a moment in thought. Instead of asking what he’s thinking Magnus simply waits for Alec to say whatever’s on his mind. 

“You can take the bed,” Alec says finally. 

Magnus furrows his brow and looks at Alec like he has seven heads. “What?” 

“I just - I was going to offer to stay in the spare room but that’s weird, if we’re dating. So I’ll just crash on the floor.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Magnus says, very aware of the effort it takes for him to keep the conflicting emotion he feels out of his tone.  “We can share the bed.” 

“Are you sure?” Alec asks, eyeing Magnus carefully. Of course Magnus isn’t sure. Magnus is the one who makes it a point to practically jump out of bed the moment they’re done having sex because the idea of lingering where he wants to stay, but knows he isn’t wanted, is too painful. For him to be the one to insist is a strange turn of events, one that clearly catches Alec off guard. 

“I’m certainly not about to let you sleep on the floor all vacation in your own house ,” Magnus points out, rolling his eyes. “What kind of a friend do you take me for?” 

Even saying the word friend hurts, but Magnus hides it well behind a laugh. 

Alec still hesitates and Magnus does his best to keep the smile on his face despite the fact that he can actively feel his spirit being crushed with every second Alec remains silent. Is the idea of sharing a bed with him for more than just sex truly that unappealing of a concept? 

“Alright,” Alec says, dropping his bag next to the bed and sitting along the edge of the mattress. 

“Great. Now that that’s settled, I’m going to hop in the shower and get a day’s worth of travel makeup off me before I break out. Care to point me in the right direction?” Magnus asks, and doesn’t know why he’s surprised when Alec points to a door to his right. Of course they have their own ensuite. 

He showers quickly so Alec has time to do the same before bed but by the time he’s done he finds Alec already passed out on top of the covers, still wearing the clothes they traveled in and sprawled haphazardly across three-fourths of the bed. 

Magnus considers waking him up so he can change - and also so Magnus can squeeze into his side of the bed properly - but a moment later Alec is snoring and it’s the most adorable noise Magnus has ever heard. Since they never spent the night together he’s never actually seen Alec sleep before. 

Thankfully Alec is a pretty deep sleeper, because Magnus stands there and watches him for a bit longer than he’d be comfortable admitting, even to himself after he realizes what he’s doing. 

Instead of waking Alec up Magnus just quietly walks to the edge of the bed to slide Alec’s shoes off before moving as gently as he can onto the bed beside Alec. Alec might be spread out but there’s enough room for Magnus to comfortably fit next to him, so long as he sleeps on top of the covers too, despite the slight chill to the night air and the fact that he always runs cold. Alec would almost positively wake up if Magnus attempted to pull enough cover free to slide himself under.  Magnus tries to convince himself he’d sacrifice the warmth of covers to not wake up any sleeping friend, though he knows for a fact he’d show zero hesitation in shoving Ragnor awake  to claim his half of the bed and the warmth of the plush comforter. But for Alexander? Laying on top of the sheets and falling asleep to the sound of Alec’s quiet snores, Magnus is surprised to find this is a compromise he’s more than willing to make.

[siren-dragon]

Over the Horizon -- FFXV x Sinbad AU (Ch.1)

So a while ago, I saw a post about Eris from the Sinbad cartoon reminding everyone of Ardyn, and had to make a story. And now I have made a new story about it, enjoy! I recommend watching the DreamWorks Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas cartoon, as that is the basis I am using for the AU. ^_^ Tagging: @valkyrieofardyn, @maty-yami, @imaginationisme

Summary: Having left his home to become a pirate, Nyx Ulric one day bargains with a chaotic god that leads him onto an unforgettable adventure.

In ancient times, powerful gods walked amongst mankind. Many brought peace and prosperity to the mortals; who they often viewed as children that needed guidance. Others delighted in tormenting and terrorizing the innocents; enjoying the fear the humans felt when confronted with their power. However, when a god felt neither compassion or hatred for the mortals, they became bored.

And that was more dangerous….

 “Good morning to you, my dear pets!” A jovial voice crowed sweetly.

Within the shadows of the Abyss, monsters of various forms snapped teasingly at the feet of the man who walked soundlessly past them. He seemed unearthly despite the human appearance he currently held. Red-violet hair that was the color of wine moved as if being blown by an invisible breeze while golden eyes stared in delight at the large table that hovered in the air that gave off a faint glow. The man immediately disappeared in an instant, only to materialize closer to the table, gazing at what appeared to be a world map.

“Another peaceful day upon Eos it seems,” the man spoke with an insincere joy. “How…boring. Perhaps a change of pace would be best, must keep them on their toes after all.” He chuckled.

Glancing back at the map he paused, a large grin tugging at his lips as the man looked closer. “Well, well, well; what have we here? A sweet, innocent prince protecting a valuable treasure? Ah- and a selfish thief eager to claim a new prize.” Golden eyes twinkled with sinister delight before turning to the shadows, “my sweet Mindflayer, enjoy the hunt!”

The monster- daemon, roared in delight before vanishing into the darkness and out of the Abyss.

Across the ocean just south of Galdin Quay, a ship of the Lucian Royal Navy sailed the calm waters, with another ship right on it’s tail. Dark purple sails, nearly black, blew the smaller ship forward and to the prize that lingered within its targets hold.

“Alright boys, here is the deal.” A man spoke, this one with dark brown hair that was shaved on the sides. He paced in front of the crew like a general giving orders to soldiers. “The world’s most valuable treasure resides on that ship and is heading toward Insomnia… it’s a shame it’ll never get there.”

The all snickered, well aware of the heist they were about to perform. “After today, we’ll retire to Altissia for fancy food and beautiful women. So then, let’s get rich! Libertus!”

“You got it, Nyx!” The helmsman called back, spinning the wheel and pulling the pirate ship alongside their target.

“Let’s go Pryna!” Nyx called, taking hold of a robe and swinging across to the Lucian ship.

Immediately the siege had begun, with Crownsguard protecting against the pirates that were pillaging their ship. Quickly and efficiently Nyx unsheathed his twin daggers, clashing against several guards before incapacitating them and moving onto the next bunch. The ship fell easily and with minimal resistance, making Nyx rather happy that the heist had gone so smoothly. And to think Libertus thought something would go wrong.

“And onto the treasure….” The pirate captain paused, watching the remaining guard who stood in front of the treasure vault. An elaborate sword with a golden hilt was clutched in his hand as he dodged various attacks and retaliated skillfully against Nyx’s men. “…Noctis.”

Libertus frowned, “how long has it been?”

“…about a lifetime ago.” Nyx replied, walking up to the higher deck. “You know, you still fight like a handicapped moogle.”

“What the- Nyx?” Noctis spoke in confusion, leaving just enough of an opening for Nyx’s crew to apprehend him. “Nyx, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, working?” Nyx answered, breaking the lock off of the vault door. “And what about you, your Highness?”

“Just fine,” Noctis said tensely. “what happened to you? And where have you been?”

“I’m sorry Noct, but my livelihood comes first so- if you’ll excuse me.”

Nyx pushed open the door and walked into the darkened room, with Noctis following after. Within the small room stood a rather large geode, glowing a brilliant shade of blue and purple. An ethereal light seemed to linger within, making the large crystal seem more beautiful than any jewel Nyx had ever seen. The brunette pirate let out a long whistle of appreciation and moved to take a step forward, only to be stopped by the prince beside him.

“Nyx, we need to talk.”

“Heard about it, read about it…. never actually seen it.” He murmured before pushing gently past Noctis, “the Stone of the Six.”

“And it is being delayed on it’s way to Insomnia.”

“Now see, I hate to be the cause of that problem; but I’m gonna need the stone.”

Noctis scoffed, “seriously? You disappear for 10 years, show up out of nowhere, and then decide to rob me? Me, Nyx.”

“Noct…listen,” Nyx sighed, “we had fun; loads of it but…we were kids.”

“We were friends, you ass! And you’re not gonna steal the stone, not from me. And besides, the Stone of the Six protects all within Lucis; it has no other purpose.”

“Exactly. So, imagine how much people would pay to get it back.” Nyx replied, reaching for the giant gem.

Noctis immediately grabbed hold of Nyx, twisting him around toward the door while stealing one of Nyx’s daggers. He then stood before the crystal, twirling the blade expertly as he glared at his old friend. Nyx chuckled at the act, genuinely surprised to see Noctis so serious. “Come on now Noct, don’t try to be a hero.”

“Let’s see if you have the guts to go through me, old friend.”

Just before Nyx could draw his own dagger, the ship shook; sending both men sprawling to the floor. Head spinning, the two glanced at each other before rushing out onto the deck and beholding the scene that lay before them. A large Mindflayer had risen from the water, causing looks of terror to appear upon the faces of both crews. “Oh shit,” Noctis muttered in exhaustion.

Nyx glanced to his ship and back at the Mindflayer before sighing, “need a hand?”

“Only if you don’t run off unexpectedly.”

“Not likely at the moment, come on!”

Quickly the two sprung into action, with Nyx whistling loudly to attract the daemon’s attention. The beast turned to face him, screeching loudly before sending several tentacles toward him only for Nyx to dodge at the last moment. Immediately Noctis imbedded a sword into the monster’s appendage, pinning it two the deck of the ship before the two raced off and begun scaling the mast. Once reaching the top-sail, Nyx sliced a few of the supports before tossing the dagger to Noctis.

“You’re gonna need that.”

Noctis caught the blade with ease, “where are you going now?”

“To save the day,” Nyx grinned as he climbed onto the single rope that connected the main mast and the foremast of the ship. The Mindflayer noticed the movement above it and quickly moved to swipe at the pirate captain, only for him to land expertly onto the other sail. Retrieving his second dagger, Nyx swiped at the support ropes and looked to Noctis, showing the two wooden beams that were perfectly placed to attack the giant daemon. Raising each dagger, both men cut the remaining ropes; impaling the Mindflayer to the deck of the ship as it gave a final screech and moved no more.

“Just like old times, huh.” Noctis smiled, giving a friendly pat on Nyx’s shoulder.

“Heh, you could say that again- LOOK OUT!”

Shoving Noctis out of the way, Nyx winced in pain as one of the Mindflayer’s hands smacked into him, dragging him under the waves. “NYX!” Noctis shouted after him, held back by the remaining Crownsguard.

Further into ocean he fell, the water was cold and most of the light from the sun gone. Nyx could feel his lungs burning as they desperately sought for air as he tried to prevent water form filing his mouth. He could feel the pressure begin to crush his body as the dead Mindflayer dragged him closer to a watery grave. His eyes began to close and he took a breath only to discover he was breathing air, not the salt water of the sea. Nyx’s eyes snapped open as he looked around, standing in some sort of air pocket? No…a bubble?

“Oh, it’s just so unfair,” a deep voice spoke dramatically. “Today was meant to be a fine day; and now my precious daemon is dead and I still don’t have the crystal…...All thanks to you, Nyx Ulric.”

Nyx spun about to see a man with wine-red hair that seemed to blow in a non-existent breeze and golden eyes that all but glowed in the shadows that surrounded him. He was tall, even taller than Nyx, and held an aura that sent shivers down his spin. Slowly the man walked forward, making Nyx realize that he was bare-footed, with a smirk gracing his lips; painfully reminding the pirate of a couerl about to pounce on an unsuspecting chocobo.

“And who might you be?”

“Permit me to introduce myself properly, Ardyn: the God of Discord, at your service.” The man bowed in a flamboyant and dramatic fashion before he vanished in an instant, reappearing only a few feet away. “I don’t doubt you’ve seen my mural upon the Citadel walls.”

Nyx blinked in surprise, remembering the daemonic monster that he had seen once before. “Yeah…they don’t do you justice.”

“Indeed. Now then, about my daemon that you slew.”

“Um, I don’t suppose a heartfelt apology would tide things over.” Nyx replied, silently praying he’d manage to make it out of this alive.

Ardyn laughed as if Nyx had said a rather humorous joke. “Surely you jest! Nyx, you don’t have a heart. One of the few things we have in common.” He continued before vanishing once more, making Nyx glance about for the god. “So, I’m going to spare your life. However, there is one thing that you must do in return: get the Stone of the Six and bring it to me.”

“Yes well, I kinda had my own plans for it. Hold it for ransom, get rich; you know, typical stuff- Gah!”

Ardyn smirked, having startled Nyx by appearing right behind him. “Oh Nyx, you’re not very imaginative, are you?” He twirled one of Nyx’s kukri’s in his hands, making the pirate wonder how he got it. “Steal the crystal for ransom, and you’ll be rich enough to lounge on some tropical beach. Steal the book for me….and you can buy the beach, and the island….and the world.”

Nyx frowned, pondering the god’s words. “You let me live, you make me rich. Honestly, I don’t really see a downside; if you keep your word.”

“My dear Ulric, when a deity gives their word; they are bound for all eternity.” Ardyn replied, taking the kukri and slicing the dagger across his chest…right where the heart would be.

“Alright then, it’s a deal.”

“A wise decision. Now then, when you’ve stolen the stone; follow the star beyond the horizon. You’ll find yourself within the Abyss. My realm of chaos….” Ardyn grinned.

Nyx smirked, “the Abyss, see you there.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ardyn answered, suddenly appearing in front of Nyx in an instant. He raised the kukri for Nyx to take, only for the blade to vanish in his hands. “Deep breath now,” he said with a smile.

Water instantly wrapped around Nyx, causing him to gasp in surprise. Looking about the ocean, he then spotted the surface and immediately raced toward it. Ardyn watched from the shadows, smirking at the success of his bargain. “Humans…always so gullible.”

[animationresources]

CTN WRAPUP I've spent the last three days visiting with people at CTN-X. CTN is an amazing thing. It's kind of like the invasion of Normandy except with portfolio cases instead of guns! Platoons of people being dropped off to storm the beachhead of animation in an endless stream. It's a bit daunting and exhausting. My voice today is a croak from all the conversations! I'm going to start with a general note... I refer to young animators as "kids". That isn't meant as a pejorative thing. When I was in college people like Frank Thomas and Mike Lah and Grim Natwick would refer to me and my aspiring animation friends as "kids" too. They were honest and straightforward with me. They spent time sharing important information that I still use. I'm here today because of their generosity and kindness and the reason I do what I do is to "pay it forward" to the new crop of kids the same way they did for mine. If I call you a kid, it's a compliment. I'm telling you that you have what it takes and are worth investing into. That said, here are some of my reflections on CTN... When I would sit down to talk with a young artist, I would always start with a few questions to find out who they were and what their experience at CTN had been like. I learned some very interesting things. A lot of young artists were fresh out of college and were eager to show their work. They lined up to get their portfolios reviewed by studio recruiters, but when I would ask them what the reviewers had told them about their portfolios, they all said that they got very little time and feedback. The reviews were brisk, pretty general and the critique was not specific enough to be helpful. Most of the time the feedback was "Not yet. Keep working on it." That shouldn't be surprising. It's the job of a studio recruiter to identify artists who are qualified to fill their available positions. It's not their job to let applicants know how to become qualified. More and more schools are offering programs in animation. I met a lot of recent graduates who were looking for their first job in the business. I would always ask them if they were finding that their education had prepared them to find their first job in animation. Every single one of them answered the same- no. That also shouldn't be surprising. It's possible to give a student an overview of the general points of what it means to work in animation, but learning the specific skills is their responsibility. School isn't a place where you buy an education off the shelf. It's a forum for learning. The self study students do in school is even more important than their classwork. It takes self study to get the fundamental skills to land the first entry level job. It takes self study to advance those skills to get promoted to a better job. If you want to advance and grow as an artist, that self study is what gets you there and it never ends. Grim Natwick was setting aside two hours of each day to study when he was 95 years old. It's important to develop that drive and focus to learn on your own early in your schooling. If you wait until after you've graduated to figure that out, you've wasted four of the most valuable years of your life. I see kids with the "deer in the headlights" look on their faces all the time, and events like CTN just remind them of all the things they should have done but haven't made the effort to do yet. I met a lot of kids that "get it" and a lot of kids that don't. I sat down and talked to them and helped them as best as I could and gave them the time it took to get to the point where I asked, "Do you have any more questions?" and they said "No, I understand." My other AR Board Members Taber, JoJo, Pez, Paul and Mike were all there generously doing the same. After one of us had spent a half hour or more helping explain what is needed to work in animation and how to acquire those skills, every single aspiring animator said the same thing to us. They told us how much our honesty and clarity meant to them. No one else at CTN had given them the same kind of help that we had. That shouldn't be surprising either. Companies at CTN are there to serve their own purposes- to sell their product, advertise their services, recruit candidates for employment- no one is there specifically to help and support artists... except for Animation Resources. When I explained to people what Animation Resources was all about, I would see a look of puzzlement in their eyes. They would be trying to think of another group to compare us to. There's the Union that's focused on the business aspects of animation. There's ASIFA which has become a professional organization, but they don't really address the needs of aspiring artists or independent animators. There are schools, but they are focused on a tuition based curriculum. Women in Animation do good things, but they are focused on women who work in the business. Animation Resources is different. We're a non-profit group that is dedicated to serving artists. We are "artists for artists". Nothing more. Nothing less. You would think there would be a lot of that, but there really isn't. It's just us. I kept seeing that expression of puzzlement as I would explain that we were an educational group that supported self study- meaning no formal lessons, tests or grades. Our charter is to pile up golden reference- the best of the best- so people who want to study can study from the best. Animation students generally didn't know they even needed that, and many professionals I spoke to had never considered that they might need to focus on objective analysis and study if they want to sharpen their skills and advance. But as I talked to them, I would see the look of realization form in their eyes as they began to understand. Then they would get excited and grab a brochure with our website link so they could sign up as soon as they got home to their computer. We live in an era of social media. Everything is bite sized. I understand that. This article I'm writing now is too long for Facebook. Very few people will get to the end of it. But you can't get the ideas across that Animation Resources is trying to get across in 140 characters or a five minute portfolio review at CTN. I'm counting on the people who are serious enough to want to become animators to take the time to absorb the treasures all of us at Animation Resources are taking the time to digitize and share with you. Two professional animators came up to me at CTN and said that they follow us on Facebook and Instagram. They raved about how great the frame by frame breakdowns are- the ones Nicholas John Pozega posts for us every day. They said they are always amazed by the images we post. I asked them if they had ever clicked through to the website. They admitted that they hadn't. They are on their phone and not on a computer, and it's hard to read articles and view galleries of images on a phone. I told them that as professionals, they should have enough of an interest in their art form to figure out a way to bookmark important reference and follow up on it. The purpose of Animation Resources isn't to entertain. It's to inspire and facilitate learning. The lesson for students is the same as the lesson for professionals. The responsibility for learning, growing and advancing as an artist is up to you. We're willing to help you with that, but ultimately it's still up to you. Seeing the spark of understanding and enthusiasm in young artists' eyes is a great thing. I finished up my conversations with all of them the same way... I pointed out that Walt Disney pushed the art of animation forward light years between Steamboat Willie and Snow White. In that short period of ten years, he set the standard of quality and expressiveness that we all look up to. The way he did that was by instituting a program of self study under Don Graham that taught artists how to analyze and break down reference and apply it to their work. We look up to films like Fantasia and Pinocchio to this day. Some people talk about a "second golden age". But we shouldn't go backwards. We should build on the knowledge of the past and apply it to creating a future that is relevant to today and reflects who we are as a society. Reboots and aping style won't do that. Mining the past for technique and observing our world for personalities and things to talk about will create something better than the golden age. I would end our conversation by saying "Make cartoons that I want to watch." I also have to say that speaking to professionals was gratifying as well. I met a few folks I worked with twenty years ago and haven't seen since then. They told me how much they enjoyed working with me back then and that was very nice... but they also said that they have kept up with what I'm doing now with Animation Resources and thanked me for it. I had a gentleman come up to the booth and put his hand on my shoulder and say "Are you Stephen Worth?" I said yes, and he said, "I'm here to thank you and apologize." I was a bit taken aback because I didn't recognize him. He said, "I've been following the Animation Archive for many years. I've used your material and appreciated everything you do. I thank you for that. But I apologize because I've never sent you any money to help you support the project. When I get home, I'm going to correct that and send you a check." I told him, "Don't send a donation. Join as a member. That's the best way to show that we are helping you." "Done." he said. I asked if he was an artist. He said, yes I'm a director... and then he told me a couple of the films that he directed. I knew instantly who he was. He was one of the keynote speakers at CTN. I had never met him and didn't recognize him by sight, but I sure knew all about his great work. I was floored that he knew all about me and my passion project. Sometimes those of us at Animation Resources don't know if the messages in a bottle we're packing up and sending out through the WWW and social media are getting out there over the vast ocean of the internet. I thank Tina Price and all the people behind CTN for creating this great opportunity for the family of animation to get together and celebrate our art form. For me, CTN this year was like thanksgiving. Now I can make my turkey and have another one! -Stephen Worth

[cantstopthesignal2005]

Something To Share

Allison pulled into street parking and huddled by the warmth of her heater. Taking the last sip of iced Green tea her fiancé Darius brewed the night prior, she braced for the gusts of winter air. The wind came crashing violently, whipping against her face, blowing her hair back. Digging through her purse, she strung together some loose change to feed the meter. Walking frantically, she reached the front door of her coffee shop. Having forgotten her gloves at home, her hands were brittle, seizing. Rifling through her brown leather bag for the keys to her store (which she deliberately kept separate from her personal set) she heard the faint echoes of footsteps. The echoes came to be less distant as she discerned a figure shrouded in darkness, moving around the unlit lobby. The shape, imposing and massive, lurched forward. The noise was in her ears. She sensed the oncoming fear, panic gripping her like a vise. What if this figure, seen only in shadows, was knocking the place over? All her capital gone in a flash. Then, she wondered, what if the shape was even more malevolent? The lights flicked on and she let out a gasp, noticing the overnight Baker Josh who rushed to the door, opening it gingerly. Josh chuckled at Allison's chattering teeth and shuddering frame. Guttural noises escaped her stiff, blue lips.   “You okay, Ally?” he asked. Josh stood six five, weighed two thirty (a combination of fat and muscle,) and was dressed in tattoos from neck to knuckle. He’d always appreciated the job and kindness offered by Ally, who was a friend to his cousin Robert. Josh found it best to keep his hands busy, worried about the eventual trouble he might get into if granted the luxury of time.   “I’m good,” she huffed. “Thanks. I should get my keys stitched to my hands, huh?”   “Yeah,”  Josh chuckled politely. “Be a good idea.”   “You’re almost done back there?”   “Uh, done twenty minutes ago. Just waiting on the bus and the check-out from the opening manager. Which is you.”   “Which is me. Did ya get your two pastries?”   “Uh, yes. So, I was . . .”   “Walk with me, talk with me?”   “I was talking to Jackie about getting cross-trained to up my hours.”   “Yes. Uh, no, I love that idea. Put you in front of house. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me get you through your ninety days, go from there.”   “Right. She mentioned that. Uh, it’s day ninety-six, actually.”   “No shit.  So, I’ll tell you what, I’ll look at your availability, get you some opening shifts, couple closing. Can’t promise you won’t have a few bake shifts here and there, but I’ll move you around.”   “Sounds great.”   “Sound good?”   “Yes, ma’am. You have a good day, Ally.”   “You do the same, Mister Josh.” Allison ran through the opening checklist, ticking off empty boxes before shelving the cookies, muffins, and scones on wax paper-lined sheet pans in the freshly cleaned display cases. The chairs resting seat-to-table were placed with their leg to the hardwood paneled floor, the tables lovingly organized in geometric harmony. Taking a few breaths, she walked around the shop and appreciated the work that no one else would. She admired a wall of misspelled, sloppily written quotes and declarations, written by young cliques caught in the bubble of their own scene. Statements and aphorisms that would seem juvenile in the space of three years, but when it was written, appeared to hold the most immense profundity that a bastard child of middle America could articulate. Allison took stock and felt pride for willing this into existence. She was the bedrock, the one responsible for maintaining stability, ensuring success or withstanding failure. This was her house, achieved through her unflappable determination and enviable ambition. Her stamina and effort ensured that Allison’s Coffee and Books would flourish. And it had. She made a communal pillar where paintings and sketches from local artists hung freely on the walls, amplifying the voices of the muffled and marginalized.     The sun rose and burst through the windows, ribbons of gold shining through on the floor, the bricks of gold text signage on the windows casting imperfect shadows. Her crew members—Clara, Sam, and Jharrel—arrived and stood in the doorway, shivering while clouds of breath floated freely in the air. Allison walked to the door and unlocked it, eager to attack the day with them. “J! Clara!” She contorted her face into a mock-serious expression, affecting a gruff voice. “Morning Sam,” she bellowed.   “Morning Ralph,” he replied. The interaction was a reference to a Saturday morning cartoon they both knew very well. Silly as it was, their joke was something they shared, and that thought always brightened her day. “Who’s on barista?”   “Taylor’s gonna be on barista,” she replied. Clicking her tongue, an indicator that Allison was ready to shift subjects, she turned to Clara. “Mama, I talked to Jackie. Told her the night crew needs to start cleaning everything, especially the toaster ovens. I checked it today, it’s looking good.  Let me know if I’m not here and they try to get slick. I’ll correct that shit so fast, mama.”:   “Thanks,” Clara replied.     “Lizzy,” Jharrel began. Lizzy was his nickname for her, though only he was to call her that, she made clear. It was something else to share. “Your girl Taylor kinda trash.”   “She’s new, J.”   “Lizzy. We know that’s a diplomatic way of saying she’s hot garbage.”   “J, it’s a diplomatic plea for you to be patient. Besides, I think my gal’s gonna kill it today.”   “Uh, and you’re basing this on what?”   “The fact that I got you two studs,” she teasingly pointed at Sam and Jharrel, “training her. Also, we gotta open this stand. Let’s get to it, boys and gal.”   They went through their opening duties: sweeping the lobby, filling buckets with time sensitive cleaner-infused water, wiping the wooden green borders of the door.  The clock’s hand hit seven fifty and they had to get the lead out.   “Who’s got the needle this morning?” Allison asked. Having the needle was a practice in the store which meant, essentially, getting to soundtrack their shift by gaining access to the aux cord.   “That’d be me,” Sam replied, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  He shuffled through his mp3 player, before finally asking “Is it too early for Neil Young?”   “No,” Allison confirmed, a sly grin unfurling. “Turn it up.” Out On The Weekend began to play through the speakers and the already healthy morale was boosted. They were going to have a good day. There were considerable gaps between the first few customers, hour one being idle, almost tedious. Half past nine is when business gained traction, a wealth of guests flooding through, promising to keep everyone on all ten toes. Suffering belligerent and fickle guests, Allison pushed everyone through to the other side with sly digs and silly jokes. A few minutes late, Taylor rushed through the door, putting on her hat, out of breath.  “I’m so sorry I’m late, Ms. Allison,” she lamented, her voice straining.  “Mama, I’m gonna need you on cash.”  “I thought I’m barista today. Are you mad?”  “Mama, Sam’s getting weeded right now, please help him out on cash.”  “Yes, ma’am.”  “Thank you.” Stress occurred differently to Allison. Certainly, she could be found struck with the pangs of frustration and annoyance, but she kept her game face on. She felt compelled to be a beacon of levity and verve in the presence of tedium and fatigue.     The rush subsided, everyone catching their bearings. Allison ran through the multiple refunds she had to put on the damage log. Clara advised Taylor with notes to increase efficiency, which she dutifully noted. Jharrel compiled his receipts into a straight stack, forcing it into a paper clip. Sam deviously smiled, approaching Jharrel. “Hey, dude. Got a question for you.”   “Sam, I’m telling you right now.  Whatever it is, you gon’ keep it to yourself.”   “Jharrel, would you rather...”   “Nah, dawg.”     “See, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”   “Last time you were talking about some—"    Allison looked sternly at the two. “Hey, Sam, J. You guys have some kinda protein deficiency?”   “Nah?” Jharrel held a quizzical expression.   “Then tell me now why you’re dragging ass on my clock.” The one trait Allison could not abide was laziness. It put everyone in their own way, unable to proceed due to a complacency to remain static. This was a trait she considered to be beneath them.  It showed a lack of faith in one’s self, and they all held such potential that it would be a shame if that slothful tendency wasn’t shaken now, while they were young and active.   “There’s no guests. What are we supposed to do?” Sam wondered, with more than a little force behind his voice.   “You can catch up on your side work. I don’t need you leaving that for night crew. Playing Would You Rather? Above and beyond, boys.” She clicked her tongue. “Clara!”   “Yes, ma’am?”   “I’m gonna steal Taylor, call me back if you need me.”   “Uh, yeah. Uh, my out time is at four, do you need me to extend?”   “And your relief is Gavin?”   “Yeah.”   “We, uh, well . . . “   “Play it by ear?”   “Yes, great idea. Uh, thanks so much, really appreciate it.”  Taylor and Allison walked to the back office, where Taylor was somewhat taken back by the sign hung above Allison’s desk which read: Comfort Is the Killer of Kings. Offering her a seat, the two sat eye to eye. “So, how are you liking it here, Taylor?”   “I feel like it’s good. I think I’m doing okay.”   “You do? Good, great. Uh, so, you’re not in trouble, this is just me going over Clara’s performance review of your first week. So, she said you were very efficient.  You apparently exceeded expectations as far as guest interactions. So, that’s all very positive.”   “Great.”   “Yeah, you’re doing great, mama. So, right here, she mentioned that you only needed improvement as far as communication goes.”   “Okay, yeah, no, I’m sorry.”   “No need to apologize. We’re here to help you out, so, please, if you need help, you gotta let us know. If you aren’t sure about something, please tell us. We’ll make sure to get you as clear an answer as possible.”   “Great.”   “Is, uh, is that something you find you have difficulty with?”   “I know you’re the one that has the standard and you determine whether I’m up to snuff or not. I’m just . . . I guess I’m anxious that I’m gonna look dumb. That I’m gonna slow everyone down. But if I’m too anxious, I feel like that prevents me from asking honest questions. And like, that’ll slow us all down as well.” She proceeded to collapse into herself, covering her face as tears flowed. Allison offered a bottle of water and a tissue, both of which Taylor graciously accepted. “I’m sorry, miss Allison.”   “We all have our days here. You know, when I opened this place, I cried for days on end. I couldn’t sleep, I was a wreck. I didn’t know if I’d be good enough, if people would take me seriously. That’s why my name is on the front door. Cause they can’t take that away from me. I’m Allison. This is Allison’s. It’s mine.”  “Queen,” she chuckled, admiring her fierce boss.  “But look, I don’t see a lot of room for improvement. Certainly a little, but there always is. What I see is a lot of potential. Could you give us a chance?”  “Of course, Ms. Allison. I appreciate you.”  “So, tomorrow’s your big day. You excited?”  “It is?”  “You get the needle! How are you gonna start the day tomorrow?”  “David Bowie. Let’s Dance. Do you know that one?” Allison closed her eyes and put her hands to her chest, ecstatically crying “Let’s Dance? Cat People? Modern Love? Ah! Mama!  Ugh, you’re after my heart.” She clicked her tongue. “Go finish out your shift, check out with Clara, she’ll make sure you’re good to go. Looking forward to working with you, Miss Taylor.” Allison found coverage for call outs, issued breaks, transcribed the damage log into a word document, and verified shift swaps, debriefing Jackie on the goals for the night.  Allison clocked off and drove away in her car. Muscles hardened, stomach like concrete, motor functions on autopilot. She walked into her apartment, a savory smell deeply wafting through the apartment. Steam emanated from inside the kitchen, where she saw Darius wearing an apron, stirring a large pot of food, adding seasoning whenever he felt it was necessary. She took off her shoes, kicking them into the living room. She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall limply to the ground, dressed now only in her red lace bra and black slacks, stained with powdered sugar and flour.  Walking up behind Darius, she wrapped her arms around his torso. He lowered his hands and rubbed her forearms, fully accepting her warm embrace She stood upwards and kissed him on the back of the neck before he craned his neck back and the two pecked each other on the lips. She knew now she was home.   “Hey, baby,” he groaned, welcoming the loving his woman was bringing home to him.   “Hey, yourself, handsome.” He turned around, hoping to get a few full on kisses. Noticing her unconventional mode of dress, he asked, “Ah. Been that kinda day?”   “Better now I get to see your pretty face.”   “Pretty,” he considered, chuckling.  Darius pulled out a spliff which they shared, their bodies adopting an alien rhythm, their clothes nestling against their skin felt weird. They felt light, like poison was draining from their bloodstream. Elated, he removed the lid from the pot of yellow rice and pigeon peas and scooped out two generous helpings on two separate plates. He then took out the jerk chicken and placed the pieces on their plates. They ate ravenously, drinking wine from mason jars, their stomachs expanding.   “We gotta get some healthier eating habits,” Allison grunted, unbuttoning her pants.   “We’ll start tomorrow,” Darius assured her, scooping another spoonful of rice into his mouth.   “You know, I saw Patty at the bodega the other day.”   “You call my mom Patty?”   “Oh, dude. Me and Patty go WAY back. Tight as fuck.” She crossed her fingers to illustrate her point.   “Bunch of troublemakers?” he playfully asked.   “Yeah.” She clicked her tongue. “She uh, she says she misses you, babe.”   “You know I’m busy lately, babe.”   “Yeah, it’s just . . . she’s your mom, you know? And it’s, you know, it’s not like your relationship’s bad.”     “I’ll stop by to see her before work tomorrow. Promise.”   “You promise?”   “I promise.”   “Mmkay, cause that’s twice you promised me, and you don’t want to break one, much less two promises to me. You know I keep a grudge.”   “You busy tonight, troublemaker?”   “Nah. Was thinking we could watch that one baking show.”   “Yeah, I mean, you don’t want to watch a movie?”   “Let’s go and pick something.”   “Sounds good.”   They shuffled with sore muscles and aching bones to the couch, before Darius impulsively grabbed Allison by the hips and dragged his teeth across her neck. They kissed passionately, gripping each other’s bodies, pushing one another against the living room walls before sauntering to the couch and Darius kissed Allison’s breasts, tracing the geography of her midsection with his lips before unzipping her pants and sliding her panties to the side so he could go down on her. Allison ran her hands through his braid twists and wrapped her legs around his back, crossing them at her feet which reached just above his ass. After coming a few times, he emerged from in between her legs to kiss her again. She took off his pants and they began stroking one  another, tussling, clumsily hitting the floor. Negotiating his way out of his briefs, his swelling penis alarmed her, unsure if she’d ever seen that much blood collected in it.   “Wow,” she whispered, grabbing him to meet her and they began to fuck on their carpet. The rug burn was a problem for tomorrow. Now, they were being careless and vital, making passionate love, dying rapturously in each other’s arms like young people do.