#it’s okay saga I’ll get your skin even if I have to pay for it

[huixing]

Oh in other news: I got Pozëmka’s cute skin! I really love the idle animation; the stars look so pretty with the snow~

[irrelevantwriter]

White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it. 

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom  sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately. 

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (11/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

-/-

“What do you think about – ”

Killian’s fingers flutter across her hip, nails curving into her, and Emma shifts on the mattress, angling her hips closer to him and sticking her left leg between his. The hair on his legs brushes across her skin, and she loops an arm around his stomach, tugging on his chest hair with her fingers as she props her head up with her free hand. Killian tugs her closer, and she grumbles as his hand settles more firmly on her ass.

“What do I think about what, love?”

“Well, maybe if you’d let me finish instead of feeling me up, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

His hand squeezes her again, and Emma would squirm out of his grasp. She really would. She simply can’t find the motivation.

He flashes her a smile, the small light breaking through her closed blinds making his teeth shine almost blindingly white, and she can still see the sleep in his eyes, the blue as bright as usual but somehow the slightest bit duller than usual, an impossibility that is somehow possible.

Damn charming idiot.

“Me? Let you keep talking? I’d never do that.”

Emma tugs on his hair. “Shut up.”

“I think we just established that’s the opposite of what I want.”

Emma rolls her eyes and shifts a little closer to Killian so that she can lean down and brush her lips over his collarbone before moving back until her lips touch the ink on his back.

“I was thinking,” Emma repeats against his skin, “that it’s a Monday, you and I both have the day off, all of the fourth of July tourists are gone, and that we should get some takeout and borrow one of the boats you guys have stored in the marina.”

His fingers move over her ass again, sinking down just far enough that Emma gasps as he ghosts over warm flesh in a teasing touch that might promise so much more if she plays her cards right.

Or wrong.

Or not at all.

All she has to do is ask. Killian isn’t really one to say no.

He hums as his fingers keep moving and as his lips brush against her forehead, light, fleeting, almost invisible. “Liam would love that.”

“Please. Liam has done it before. Elsa talks about all the times they’ve gone out. Hell, we go out with everybody all the time.”

“Ah, yes, but that is Liam, and the rules are a little different for him.” Heat burns low in her belly as he keeps teasing her, and she feels it simmer across her skin. The room is suddenly warmer than it was, her air conditioning and ceiling fan not doing the work they’re supposed to be doing. “However, I’ve never been one for following the rules when I know how to bend them.”

“Scoundrel.”

“Or dashing rapscallion.”

“Same thing.”

He winks and she laughs. His fingers keep moving, and Emma shifts over him, settling herself on top of Killian so that his hand slips away but she can feel the delicious friction of Killian brushing up against her. God, this is not helping how hot she is. Leaning back, she purposely rolls her hips and listens to Killian groan. It’s deep and guttural, and the sound reverberates around the room and settles heavily in her throat so that she has to swallow it down. His jawline is sharpened by his scruff that he shaved yesterday, and he tilts back into the pillow as his eyes shut.

“So, what do you say, KJ?” she whispers. “You want to run away from the world and take me out on some rich person’s boat?”

“For you, sweetheart, I think we can do that.” His hands grab onto her hips and suddenly he’s lifting her off of him until she’s on her side on the mattress and Killian’s back is brushing up against her as his lips run hotly across her neck and his hand grabs onto her breast, fingers moving over her peak and driving her higher and higher far quicker than he has any right to. “But it’s still early, and I’ve had other plans in mind since before you started your hour-long saga about Ruby’s date with Mulan last week.”

“It wasn’t an hour.”

“It certainly felt like one.”

“It was not.” She tries to lean away from him to grapple for her phone, but he tugs her back until she can feel all of him brushing up against him. His breath is warm against her neck, and suddenly, she’s not so bothered by the heat anymore. “You’re not going to let me check my phone to prove a point?”

“Swan, can you be quiet for just one minute?”

“One minute? If that’s all it’s going to take, I’m not sure I want you to be my fuck buddy anymore.”

His hand and his lips still, but it’s only for a second. She wouldn’t have even noticed if she weren’t so damn turned on right now and if there wasn’t a distinct lack of coffee running through her system, but she quickly forgets any qualms when Killian lifts her leg over his hip and he’s brushing against her right where she wants him.

Fuck.

“You’re usually not so talkative in the mornings,” Killian whispers into her ear before she turns her head so that his lips brush over. It’s soft, gentle even, and she keeps waiting for Killian to hurry, but he doesn’t. “Are you still tired?  You called pretty late last night.”

“Killian?”

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s your turn to shut up.”

He laughs into the kiss, and she does the same. But then he’s sliding into her, slowly, slowly, slowly, and she loses all of her breath at the feeling of him inside of him, warm and thick and full. He retreats for a moment, but then he’s rocking back into her, slow and steady and so damn delicious that she has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep herself from writhing.

Killian likes when she does that, though, likes a lot of things about how she is behind closed doors and underneath the sheets, and her cheeks flush at the thought. He’s usually one for her being on top or him taking her fully from behind so he can bury himself inside her, but this, she likes this, too.

“Hmm, you feel good,” she mumbles against his mouth as he keeps kissing her, the movement as slow as the thrust of his hips. She tangles her other hand in his hair and pulls him closer as her nose presses into his cheek.

“Now, I’ve certainly heard that one before.”

She pushes her hips back in response, and Killian bites down on her bottom lip as his hips begin a steadier, smoother rhythm that has her gasping for air and wondering why the hell they haven’t been doing this for longer.

Warmth continues to spread over her, and while there’s sweat pooling at her lower back and across her forehead, there’s a warmth that she can’t quite explain, one that she doesn’t necessarily want to.

It’s easier not to.

Killian’s hand palms her breasts once more while his other hand trails down her stomach, scratching across the smooth planes of her stomach before going just low enough that she definitely can’t breathe anymore as her body keeps reaching for that high.

It’s not long before she finds it, and Killian swallows her cry with his kiss, his tongue soothing it away as that warmth spreads even further and his hips keep slowly snapping to work her through it and have him find his own high.

God, it’s so good that it would be totally unfair for him not to feel this way too.

When it’s over and Emma is still boneless, she flops onto her stomach and buries her face in her pillow as her heartbeat still tries to calm. She can feel Killian’s lips on her back, and he moves down, tracing her skin with his mouth before he buries his face just above her ass while his arm loops over her.

She doesn’t want to move for the rest of the day.

This. This is all she wants.

“Can you carry me to the bathroom to clean up?”

Killian huffs against her. “Give me five minutes, and then I can.”

“For someone who has a pretty fast recovery time, that’s a little slow on you getting the strength in your legs back.”

“I ran on the beach last night. I’m still sore.”

She reaches back and pats his head. “Poor baby. How ever will you survive?”

His teeth bite into her skin, and Emma squirms away, moving out of his hold and nearly falling to the floor. She catches herself at the last minute, but only by sticking her leg down to the ground.

“You were saying, Swan?”

“Ass.” She finishes rolling off the bed and stands up. She might as well. “Do you want to shower before we go steal a boat?”

“Borrow. We’re borrowing one. I have to pay a fee.”

“You have to pay a fee to your own business.”

“Aye. That’s how it works.”

“Huh. Okay, well, get some cash out of my jar on the bookshelf, and I’ll pay for half of it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It was my idea. Technically, I should be paying for all of it. But half is good.”

He nods and rolls back. The light is now hitting the ink on his hip as well as the ones on his arms, and really, she should dedicate more time to tracing that damn compass. “And I won’t shower here. I’ll rinse off at the docks.”

Emma raises her hand and salutes. “Aye, aye, Captain. I’m going to shower, so you can do whatever you want. I think I might possibly have cereal.”

“I would be surprised if you did. You need to go to the market.”

Emma shrugs. “I get fed at work or by you. I really don’t think I do.”

Emma leaves Killian in her bed to walk to the bathroom and shower. She takes the time to shave since she’s going to be in a bikini all day. Halfway through she wonders if it’s really worth it since she’s it’ll only be Killian around. She’s nearly there, though, so she finishes before turning the water off and running a towel up and down her body. She doesn’t bother wrapping herself in it when she walks back to the bedroom and digs out a white bikini from the back. She really needs some new ones, but this is an old favorite. After she puts it on and ties it, she finds a pair of jean shorts and a button-down before walking down the hallway to her kitchen.

Killian’s standing at the counter, spoon hanging out of his mouth, and she’s genuinely impressed by the fact that she actually had both cereal and milk.

It’s pretty much a miracle.

“I’m ready to go when you are. Where do you want to get takeout from?”

“Granny’s?”

“A man after my own heart.”

The spoon falls from his mouth, metal clanging against her countertops, and she swears that Killian’s body stiffens before he shakes himself out of it and reaches over for the spoon.

What the hell was that?

“Clumsy, much?” she teases.

“Don’t make fun of me, love. I will be the one driving us today, and if memory recalls, you have no clue how to drive out on the waters.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll have to teach me.”

By the time they’re down at the marina, it’s past noon. Emma has a bag full of towels, sunscreen, and drinks, as well as their takeout from Granny’s, and Killian’s got Skipper on his leash. The dog keeps trying to jump into the water, and Emma has no idea how he’s going to deal when they’re actually out in the middle of the ocean.

Seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

Killian steps onto a small, clean boat. It’s only got a seat for a driver behind the steering wheel and then a small, built-in section of cushions at the back, and after taking his hand to get on, Emma settles down there with Skipper, who is more focused on trying to get their food than anything else. Killian slowly drives them out away from the docks. He waves to several people on the way out, ones they’ve both worked with enough to recognize them as they lounge on their boats, and then they’re breaking away from everything and to the calm of a still ocean and the sun shining down on her skin.

This is exactly what she’s needed.

This summer is non-stop. She has barely had any kind of break where she could have a full day to herself. Hell, she hasn’t really wanted that. A day to herself means a day to overthink everything that’s currently happening, and she doesn’t need that.

What she needs is to stretch out on a towel and let the sun bake into her skin while the boat gently rocks beneath her and salt water splashes over her skin to keep her from getting too hot.

If only she could be a tourist in this town and have this be her everyday reality.

“Swan, if you leave your food sitting out, Skip is definitely going to eat it all.”

Emma rolls over on her side and opens her eyes to squint at Killian. “Is that your way of saying you’re going to eat my food?”

“Never. Mine is better anyway.”

Her eyes roll, and she sits up on the towel before standing and walking over to sit on the cushions next to Killian and Skipper. She grabs her food out of the bag, as well as a bottle of water, and opens the container to grab an onion ring. Skipper is definitely eyeing her onion ring, but that’s not happening.

These are too precious for that.

“Oh my God, did I tell you who I saw at Granny’s?”

Killian shakes his head and adjusts the aviators on his face before stretching his arms above his head, his muscles pulling at the movement.

That isn’t distracting at all.

“Who?”

“Have you met the new sheriff? Graham something? I think it starts with an H. Um – ”

“Humbert, I believe.”

“That’s it! Anyway, so he was at the counter getting food for him and David, and he introduced himself. Like, he knew who I was and everything, and I’m 100% sure Marg didn’t listen to me when I told her I didn’t want to be set up with him.”

Killian’s arms fall down to his lap. “Pardon?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? Mary Margaret was really into setting me up with him a few weeks ago. I think it was on the fourth, but I told her I wasn’t interested in it. She has obviously put the wheels in motion, though. Or David is super weird and has a picture of me on his desk or something.”

“I feel like one of those is more likely than the other.”

Emma shrugs and bites into an onion ring. “Maybe. It was so weird, though, because I could tell he was trying to flirt, but it’s like I had no idea how to respond.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and props his foot up on the small table. “You mean, you didn’t flirt back?”

“Why would I flirt back?”

“Because you’re a single woman and an attractive man was into you. Flirting seems like the right thing to be doing.”

Emma swallows and puts her container of food down. She closes it so Skipper can’t get into it and then crosses her legs underneath her. “How do you know he was attractive?”

“I’ve seen him around. He looks like your type.”

“My type?”

“I know you’re partial to men in leather jackets with facial hair.”

She scoffs and crosses her arms, onion ring dangling from her finger. “Are you jealous?”

She can’t see his eyes from underneath his sunglasses, but his forehead wrinkles and his brows peak up enough for her to know they’re rising. She probably shouldn’t have asked that question. She was kidding, but Killian does not seem amused.

“Why the hell would I be jealous?”

“It was a joke, KJ. You don’t need to get all defensive about it. I know you’re not jealous because we’re not – you know…whatever.”

“No, no, we’re not, so I’m not bloody jealous. If you want to go on a date with the Sheriff, you should go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.” Killian rises from the seat and walks back toward wheel on the boat. “What kind of music do you want to listen to?”

Holy whiplash Batman.

Where did that conversation even come from?

And how the hell did it end?

“Whatever you want. You know I always trust what you pick.”

He nods and thumbs through his phone until she hears the familiar sounds of John Mellencamp playing through the portable speaker Killian always brings out.

“So old school today?”

“Mhm.” He steps down the small step and reaches for Emma’s hand that is now onion-ring free. When she doesn’t take it, he flexes his fingers. “C’mon.”

“What are you trying to do, exactly?”

“I’m asking you to dance.”

“Why the hell would you ask me to dance? You’ve seen me dance. You know I’m bad.”

“That’s because you’ve never had a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh, and that’s you.”

“That is definitely me.”

She shakes her head as Skipper tries to get into her lap. “I’m not dancing with you.”

“Swan.”

His lips curl into a smile, soft and pressed together before he’s showing all of his teeth. His tongue flickers behind his teeth, and she just knows how his eyes look even without being able to see them.

Charmer.

“You were being a bit of a dick a minute ago.”

“Was I?”

“Definitely.”

He reaches forward and grabs onto her wrist, gently tugging her up until her legs are unfolding and she’s standing next to him, the boat warm against her bare feet. Killian intertwines are fingers with hers and pulls her flush to his chest as his left hand settles on her waist, inching closer and closer to her ass.

“If this was an excuse to touch my ass, you could have just done it.”

“Please,” he groans, “I’m more of a gentleman than that.”

“You keep saying that, but I know for a fact you’ve been staring at my boobs all day.”

Killian tilts his head back with his laughter and quickly spins her around before she settles back in her position from before. “You’re wearing a thin white bikini. It hides exactly nothing. What did you expect me to do?”

She tugs on the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s long enough to be able to flip and flow now, and she kind of likes it. It makes him look handsome in a boyish kind of way, and really, she’d be okay if he didn’t cut it for awhile.

As if that’s any of her business anyway.

“I expected you to do exactly that.”

He chuckles and keeps swaying with her as Jack and Diane still plays and the water shifts underneath them. “You’re something else. You know that?”

“I am aware of my greatness.”

“Do you remember,” he chuckles, “about three years ago, when we all took a boat off the water, and David and Liam thought it would be hysterical to push everyone off and into the water when they were least expecting it?”

“Yeah, but after two people, we were all definitely expecting it.”

“True, but it didn’t keep you from getting tossed in.”

She gently slaps the back of his neck. “Hey, if I remember correctly, that was your fault.”

“Only partially?”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“Partially my ass,” she laughs, tilting her head up to look at Killian. “You were in on it with them. You called me over to get me to help putting sunscreen on your back, and I was doing it, David picked me up and threw me in.”

“What makes you think I was doing anything other than protecting my skin from the sun?”

“Because you had just put some on. I remember.”

“No, no. I don’t think that’s what happened.”

“That’s exactly what happened!”

Killian hums and spins her around again. She nearly trips over Skipper, but he dodges her before coming back to lick her leg.

“I don’t recall that happening that way, so that must mean I’m right.”

“You’re not, and I’ll forever hold that grudge against you.”

“Add it to the list, darling. Add it to the list.”

The song starts dying out, and another one starts. She doesn’t recognize it, but its tempo is slower and softer. It’s peaceful, and if she hadn’t moved from her towel, she could easily be falling asleep right now.

“I miss when Liam was like that,” she whispers. “He used to be so carefree.”

“Liam has never been carefree. He’s worn the weight of the world on his shoulders for his entire life, and it’s rare that he doesn’t feel that or that he doesn’t have a stick up his ass. I love him, but he can be a righteous ass.”

“Hey, I feel the same way about you.”

Killian’s hand tightens in hers, but then it loosens, the iron grip gone.

“Hey, Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you help me put some sunscreen on my back?”

“Yeah, sure, I – oh my God.”

In the blink of an eye, she’s being lifted off her feet and over Killian’s shoulder so that the only thing she has a view of is his ass and Skipper panting.

She is going to murder him.

“Well, I’d wait until you got in close with the Sheriff before you committed a crime like that.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did indeed, love.” He pats her ass and then starts walking toward the other end of the boat. She could get down if she wanted to. She knows that she’s strong enough and that Killian would let her, but she’s honestly kind of curious to see if he actually has the balls to do it. “I bet the water feels great.”

“Why don’t you dive in and see for yourself?”

“I think I’m going to let you go first.”

And then the bastard tosses her in the ocean.

So he does have the balls to do it.

The water’s cold when she lands in it, and salt water ends up her nose. But she doesn’t stay under for long. She’s not necessarily scared of the animals that live in the ocean, but she’s not fond of the idea of getting eaten by a shark or stung by a jellyfish either. So she quickly swims back to the boat and climbs up the later until her likelihood of dying is at a minimum. That’s always something she’s aiming for.

As soon as she can see clearly again, she scans around to try to find Killian. He’s not anywhere on the boat, and Skipper is standing at the edge loudly barking. Emma turns her attention that way, and finally, she sees a mop of black hair emerge.

Huh, he really did jump in after he tossed her.

“How’s that water feel, Jones?”

“Refreshing. You didn’t want to stay in?”

“Not really a fan of getting eaten by a shark.”

“You do look like shark bait.” He pulls himself back up and sits beside her, nudging his shoulder into hers. “Did you really not see that I was going to throw you in the ocean the moment I brought up that story?”

“Oh, no, I did. You’re not sly.”

“So you think, love. So you think. What do you say we finish our lunch now?”

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since you interrupted me. I’m surprised there’s even any left with Skipper on board.”

“He’s like his owner. He has better taste than onion rings.”

“He’s also like his owner in that he smells like a wet dog.”

Killian chuckles and wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, pulling her in to kiss her cheek. “It’s best you get used to it since you’re stuck with us for the rest of the day.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

-/-

The sun sets while they’re still out on the water. The vibrant blue sky fades into the most brilliant shades of orange and pink that mix together like only an expert painter could do. Emma see sunsets all the time. She works during them, and she’s got a perfect view of the ocean from her office and from all of the dining halls, but she never sits and watches. It’s the same sight almost every night, the same mechanisms happening in the sky, but there’s always the slightest difference depending on how many clouds are scattered in the sky or the upcoming weather.

Tonight, it’s perfect, and Emma can’t help but stare as she sips on a bottle of water and perches herself on the bow with Killian. His skin is already darker than it was when they set sail this morning, a tan now totally covering him and sharpening all of his features. Meanwhile, her freckles are all more prominent, but overall, she’s the same color except for the red on her cheeks. It’s been a good day, she thinks, even if there have been a few times where Killian has gotten a little short with her or zoned in and out of conversations. Maybe he’s got something on his mind that’s bothering him, but he would tell her. That’s what they do.

Rule number one and all that.

“I much prefer the sunrise to a sunset,” he suddenly says.

“Aren’t they pretty much the same?”

He drags his foot in front of him before pulling his knee to his chest. “The colors are different, just barely, but if you look at it enough, you can tell. Milah was a painter, and she would always talk about the subtle differences. I never noticed until her.”

Emma’s breathing stutters, but it quickly returns to normal. The only time Killian has ever mentioned Milah by name was the night of the fourth because she was having an absolute meltdown over seeing Neal. She knows he only did it to help, to share something to show that he understood, but really, it made her feel so damn guilty.

His girlfriend died, and then he found out she had this entire other life.

Emma can’t…she can’t imagine how he dealt with that, but then again, he and Liam picked up their lives and moved to another country after it, so maybe he didn’t deal with it too well. And yet, here he is still talking about something she loved to do because he still loves her. He didn’t say that, but Emma knows. She gets it.

So maybe his point did work. They do understand each other.

“I also am partial to how quiet it is in the mornings,” Killian continues. “I’ll be on a run or have Skipper in the sand, and the only thing I can hear is the chirping of the birds of the crash of the waves. It’s peaceful. You don’t get that a lot of times when the sun is setting.”

“What about right now?”

“Now,” he sighs, “is pretty perfect, too. You ready to go back home soon?”

“In a little while. I think maybe I need to appreciate the peace while I can.”

It’s midnight by the time Emma sets foot on solid land again. She’s exhausted, but it’s the good kind where she can feel it in her bones and in her smile. Skipper runs ahead of the two of them to the car, jumping in as soon as Emma opens the door, and Killian settles into the passenger’s seat as Emma turns the key in the ignition and starts driving back to her place.

“Where are you going?”

“My place.”

“Oh.”

Emma turns to look at him and watches him twist in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Can you drop me and Skip off at home? I’ve got an early day tomorrow, and I’d really like to get as much sleep as possible in.”

“Um, yeah, I can do that if that’s what you want.”

They drive in silence for the few minutes that it takes to get to Killian’s place, and when she puts her car in park, ready to turn it off completely, Killian leans over and presses his lips against her cheek. “Goodnight, Swan. I’ll see you later.”

-/-

-/-

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrookee @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @elizabeethan​ @captain-emmajones​ @csalltheway​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

[purplesurveys]

1257

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry?  Oh for sure. We had to watch It’s A Beautiful Life and I know I cried every single time I watched that movie, whether for school or on my own time.

What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about?  I don’t really get this question. I feel like it would make more sense if it asked how early I’m willing to wake up in the morning...? Anyway, I don’t pay attention to the time I sleep at night. Sometimes I’ll pass out as early as midnight, and sometimes I’ll be up until 3; it doesn’t matter to me.

What is you favorite type of lunch meat?  I’m not into those in general.

What time of the year do you dislike the most?  The heat in April and May is just brutal and uncalled for. It gets so hot and disgustingly humid and most times the aircon can’t even do much to quell it.

Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs?  Yeah, banana ketchup since that’s what we usually have a bottle of. Generally, I have banana ketchup with most of my breakfast dishes too.

What is your favorite color to wear? I don’t really have a favorite to wear those days mostly because I barely go out anyway and there’s been little need to update my closet.

Are you an overachiever?  Seems like the type of question you should be asking my parents, not me haha. Personally, though, I’m fairly proud of what I’ve accomplished.

What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)?  Maybe longer legs and smaller teeth, but I’m not exactly insecure about mine.

What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'Hara) would you marry? Did you just raise the possibility of marrying a deer? Anyway...since I mentioned Two for the Road in the last survey, I’ll go with Mark from that movie. Seems like my type of partner. 

How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)?  With legs...around 2-3 weeks. Armpits, maybe about a week or so. Never more than a month for either.

What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else?  For the most part I’ve always been cautious of what I say; writing, on the other hand...I’ve written stuff on my diary wherein I let out all my frustrations against my mom. I know they were mean because she cried over them – but that also entailed snooping through my stuff, so I’ve never felt bad about it. I meant those things as I wrote them because it was my safe space, and she violated that. That’s on her.

Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry?  I did, but I instantly realized it was bad so I stopped as soon as I began.

What is your favorite thing about your life?  How everything seems to have fallen in its place these days. There’s really little to complain about and I’m grateful for that.

Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire?  Animals.

Have you ever painted a picture of somebody?  No.

How many real bfs/gfs have you had?  One.

Did you enjoy your past relationships?  I did.

Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. << I love this choice, let’s just go with this one lol.

Could you wait until marriage for sex?  Sure.

What’s the best Nirvana song?  I don’t listen to them. I know a couple of songs but I don’t like them enough to be my favorites.

What was the last thing that impressed you?  The new Butter remix with Megan Thee Stallion.

When was the last time you were in a pet store?  Years, years ago.

What nationality is your last name?  Spanish or Portuguese, I’m not super sure.

What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip?  I never dip my chips; I just have them as is.

Who was the last boy that you saw cry?  Idk...maybe one of my cousins from one of our family reunions last year. I don’t get to be around a lot of boys or guys.

Does your mom know you do surveys?  No. I’ve never had to raise it and I can’t see a situation where I would have to.

Have you ever had a serious injury?  Yeah, I got a big wound from when I went snorkeling around a decade ago. I wasn’t provided flippers so when I was kicking to stay afloat I managed to hit the coral reefs underneath repeatedly, which majorly scraped and gashed my left foot until it was an open, bleeding mess. It was infected for weeks and I’m surprised it didn’t leave any kind of mark or scar.

What was the last thing you achieved?  Handling a campaign for a major client successfully and getting good coverage and results for it.

Would you enjoy being famous?  Probably, but I wish I had some sort of talent or skill that would propel me to popularity in the first place hahaha.

What’s under your bed?  Some things I collected from past hobbies and interests, like all my old wrestling magazines.

Do you enjoy travelling?  Love it.

Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it?  I mean I joined an org in college, which technically makes me a member for life. I’m not name-dropping but it’s one of the two journalism organizations in my alma mater.

When was the last time you drank strawberry milk?  I can’t recall. I don’t drink strawberry milk.

Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set?  I never collected those.

Do you have a clock in your room?  Nope.

Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher?  I honestly can’t remember. I only had like three sessions with different instructors for each, and the one instructor I remember having was extremely cranky and impatient.

Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite?  Hold It Against Me is pretty fun.

Does mind over matter work for you?  Sure.

Are you paranoid?  Oh yeah. Overthinker is pretty much my middle name.

What is the best thing about winter?  I wouldn’t know but considering the things associated with it, I’ve always believed it would be my favorite season.

Have you ever been truly in love?  Hmm. I think so, yeah. I’d give myself that.

Are you currently planning a trip?  Nah. Nothing set in stone, but Angela, Reena, and I have been talking about flying to South Korea next year. We’ll see.

How many plants are in your home?  Several. My mom is a bit of a fan, but it’s nothing obsessive.

What is your favorite possession?  I treasure my BTS merch, I guess haha. Nobody is allowed to touch them or move them around without my permission. As often as my mom likes to barge in my room and touch my stuff, she seems to understand and doesn’t lay a finger on any of the merch either.

Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked?  Sure. But it's never really mattered to me; it just feels nice to be nice and do nice things for people. It does feel nice to be thanked, but I don’t necessarily do it for the recognition.

What movies have tripped you out?  I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Midsommar, Anomalisa, Under the Skin, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and The Killing of A Sacred Deer are a few of them.

Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade?  Yesssss, I even had a pair as a kid. I got into it because I loved to ice skate, but it turned out I wasn’t as good as gliding on the ground so I ultimately preferred ice skating. Anyway, no, I haven’t done rollerblading in years.

Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night?  I did. I stayed because it’s where I felt safe and I didn’t know where else to go or what else to do outside of it.

Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating?  Sure.

Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep?  Nope. I find them more distracting than anything else, and they actually keep me from sleeping.

What summertime treats do you love?  I don’t have any.

How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. < Yeah, this sounds about right.

What do you hate most about moving?  The last time we moved was in 2008...and I don’t really remember disliking any part of it. I was actually excited for us to have a home all to ourselves after living with extended family in a cramped house all my life.

Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting?  Depends where. Sometimes it can be exciting, sometimes it can be inconvenient but you kinda do it out of desperation lol.

Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks?  No, I’m scared of how it would affect my body so I’ve never tried.

Has anyone ever whistled at you?  Countless random men.

Do you like scarves?  They can be comfy if I’m traveling somewhere cold...but I don’t really get to do that often, so.

Is your father homophobic?  I haven’t seen any signs from him. My mom is much more likely to exhibit internalized homophobia – she just did the other night.

Do you take gummy vitamins?  No, only when I was a teenager.

Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all?  I don’t think so, nothing I can recall.

Who would you like to meet before you die?  I don’t have any goal person in mind.

If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? Hmm, probably not. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of?  The Avril Lavigne doppelganger one is extremely hilarious and I read up so many thread about it on Twitter just so I can see how far people can stretch it.

If Heaven and Hell exists, where are you going when you die?  I don’t care.

Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else?  Either of my best friends.

What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday?  The weather.

Is there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy?  My mom.

Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself?  Yeah the soundtracks are actually fucking great. The person who took this survey before me named Supermassive Black Hole by Muse, and that’s one of my favorites from all the soundtracks. The song Slow Life in New Moon is nice, too. How old was the first person you kissed?  She was 17, going on 18.

Will you be a strict parent one day?  I’d have some rules set but I wouldn’t suffocate my kids.

Last person to stand up for you?  Heck if I know. I can do that for myself.

Have you been to a baby shower?  No.

Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater?  My ex.

What’s your favorite high school memory?  Hiding a same-sex relationship from my conservative, homophobic Catholic teachers.

Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single?  I like being single these days.

What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do?  Trying out the Nevis Swing in New Zealand.

What subject at school did you absolutely hate?  I saw no point in studying chemistry.

Italian food or Chinese food?  Chinese. I like Italian cuisine, but sometimes I find it a tad bit salty for my taste.

Do you like to make flash cards when you study?  Not flash cards but sometimes I’ll write my notes down in several index cards because for some reason I retain information better that way.

Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer?  No.

Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online?  No. I never saw the appeal of most of them, honestly.

I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike.  Gabie.

What do you think about Marilyn Manson?  I have nothing to say about him tbh. 

Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school?  Nothing beyond getting into an argument with this kid in 2nd grade and getting sent to the counselor’s office for it.

Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras?  I used to, until I handed it down to my sister...and until she let it smash onto the ground because she didn’t place it on her tripod properly when she was filming one time. I still don’t get why she’s so defensive about it; I wish she’d just admit she majorly fucked up on that. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets?  It makes me silently judge the parents more so than letting myself be bothered by a child.

Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother?  We’re not offered the chance to get yearbooks unless we’re in graduating years.

Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome?  No.

Jalapeños: yay or nay?  YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Did you ever play Minecraft? No. I can’t care less.

Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member?  I didn’t.

Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense?  Me, sometimes. Hahahaha.

What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you?  The way I was broken up with, like what the person who last took this said. I’m not tortured by it and her anymore, but I don’t think I deserved to intensely mull over about what I could have possibly done to be broken up with the way she did.

What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. < This pretty much hits the nail on the head on how my ex is, so I’ll just go ahead and agree.

If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it?  I’d get braces again and...that’s it, really.

What are your feelings on feminism?  I support it and I support how it advocates equality.

Describe your first relationship?  I’ve only had one relationship so I’ll just answer the following question.

Describe your last relationship?  Internally toxic; uhhh healthy at some points I guess, when she wasn’t being a selfish prick; a disaster towards the end.

Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex?  I honestly don’t know what constitutes ‘safe sex’ in a same-sex relationship, sooooo idk if I have.

Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply?  It’s a realistic take on love and I appreciate that it took its sweet time to highlight the ugly sides of love and marriage. Also, Audrey Hepburn taking her acting chops to the next level was just beautiful to watch. She was always a fantastic actress in all her movies, but I could tell her acting in Two for the Road had just a little bit more depth to it.

What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you?  That I’m nice and approachable.

Do you feel protective over someone?  My friends.

What perfume/cologne do you wear?  Heat Rush.

Where did your vehicle come from?  My parents got it for me as a high school grad gift.

What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?  I haven’t been to a wedding since 2007, and back then I was designated as a flower girl lol. I’ve never been to a wedding where I was chosen to be a bridesmaid.

What is your favorite way to eat chicken?  CHICKEN SANDWICH. Also chicken wings.

It is your birthday. You hope the cake is:  Oreo cheesecake topped with 24 macarons.

What do you wear to bed?  Something thin and airy.

What were you doing at 8pm last night?  I was watching Bon Voyage.

[chimchimsauce]

Seven (1)

Jungkook is infamous. And yet, YN ignores every word of caution, unable to resist him.

I've heard so many sagas. He brings the drama, six baby mamas . . .

Tag List:  @cadet-lea-05 @flowerychim @lecsah

Add yourself here!

Chapter One

"YN. Get your ass up,"

The girl in question ignores her disgruntled roommate, continuing to type away at the paper that's due next week. She has a good workflow going and won't be interrupted by Miran's antics.

"Are you listening to me?"

Miran's question is only answered by clicks from YN's keyboard. Not even a moment passes before a pillow crashes into YN's head.

"Hey!"

"That's what you get for ignoring me. Rude,"

YN pauses her work, sitting up and glaring at her roommate.

"What do you need?"

"You're going to the club with me,"

"I absolutely am not,"

"You absolutely are. Today is Lady's Night. Drinks are half off if you bring a friend,"

"Can't Wendy go with you?"

"She's sick,"

"Mary?"

"Out of town,"

"Maria?" YN is grasping for straws at this point.

"Hooking up with her new toy,"

"Look, Miran, I know we don't really get along all that great, but I'd really appreciate it if you understood that clubbing is not my thing. The music's too loud, people are too touchy, and I don't like dancing,"

"I'll owe you one. Please? This guy I'm trying to catch is going to be there tonight,"

Miran's usual blunt attitude softens a bit.

YN bites her lip.

"And I'll stop inviting people over without asking you first,"

Miran hits gold. Her roommate's constant flow of people in and out of their small apartment is YN's biggest pet peeve.

"How long do you want to be out?"

Miran punches the air in excitement.

"Just a few hours! It won't be all night, I promise,"

"Fine, "YN says, "But you better keep up your end of the deal,"

"Of course I will. Now come on, get dressed," Miran says, grabbing YN's hands and pulling her up, "Wear something sexy,"

YN looks entirely unamused.

"Do I look like I own a single 'sexy' thing?"

Miran opens her mouth but wisely shuts it before making a comment.

"I'll grab you something from my closet then. Wait here,"

Miran returns with some skimpy little thing that looks more like a somewhat long shirt than a dress.

“I’m not wearing that,”

“Oh, come on! It’s the longest dress I own,”

“You’re joking,”

“I’m not. Come on, put it on. We need to get going,” Miran says, tossing the fabric over to her and closing the door, “Don’t take forever,”

YN pouts but does as instructed, trying in vain to pull the hem lower to cover herself more. It doesn’t work, the girl’s bum nearly slipping out. She’s anything but comfortable, and the sight of her bed next to her is beyond tempting. But the promised absence of surprise visitors to their dorm has YN stepping out, glaring at Miran who claps excitedly.

“You look hot,” Miran says, circling her roommate and analyzing the way her dress fits.

“Whoopie,” YN says with all the enthusiasm of someone discovering their spare tire has gone flat.

Miran doesn’t acknowledge YN’s sass, tugging her into her own bedroom and covering her with a multitude of bracelets and big, heavy hoop earrings. She also sprays a zillion different products into YN’s hair, getting it to poof up in all the right places but still maintain some bounce. By the time she’s satisfied, YN looks more like a floozy than herself.

“They won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you, YN. You’re gonna get so many free drinks, ugh, I’m jealous,”

“I don’t drink,”

“Give them to me, then. I’ll drink enough for the both of us,”

YN frowns. It looks like she’ll end up being the DD. She hopes Miran isn’t a puker because if she so much as gags, YN’s gonna kick her drunk ass out of her car and leave her on the sidewalk, conscience be damned.

The two take YN’s car, a perfectly clean little honda, the most sensible car a girl can have. Miran obnoxiously turns the radio up so loudly YN can barely hear the directions to the club. She winces when Miran sings an incredibly shrieky high note, already feeling a headache coming on.

Of course, there’s no parking, so the girls have to walk two blocks to make it to the long line forming at the club entrance. The guy in front of them smells horribly of weed, causing YN’s nose to crumple up in disgust. She’s tempted to pull the collar of her dress up but she stops herself, knowing that she’d end up flashing the entire street.

And if she thought things couldn’t get any worse, some shiny Bently pulls up to the curb, tires skidding obnoxiously. YN doesn’t get a chance to see who the douchebag driver is, as some guy runs up to the car excitedly, binging a small crowd with him.

“I wonder who that is,” Miran says, standing on her tippy toes to try and get a better view.

It takes YN all of three seconds to decide that she doesn’t care. She shrugs off Miran’s comment, inching forward as more people are let in the pounding club.

Twenty minutes later, the bouncer lets them in after placing a red over twenty-one wristband on Miran’s wrist and a white under twenty-one band on YN’s, swinging open a large black door. The music’s volume triples instantly, some sleazy song thumping with bass. Miran pulls YN inside eagerly, heading straight to the bar. She leans over the countertop, her breasts nearly spilling out as she flirts with the bartender.

“Two shots of tequila, please,” she says, laughing lightly as the man blushes darkly and nearly drops one of the small glasses.

For a moment, YN feels jealous. Miran is hands down the most confident person YN has ever met. No matter what she’s doing or where she is, Miran holds herself with an air of power and confidence that YN can only dream about. While Miran always seeks the limelight, YN is perfectly comfortable in the shadows where no one can see her, where no one pays her any attention.

When the bartender serves the drink, Miran tosses the both of them back with a speed that’s nearly inhuman, grinning as she slams them back down on the wooden countertop.

“Dance with me,” Miran shouts over the music, attempting to pull YN onto the packed dance floor.

“I’m good!” YN shouts back, resisting.

Miran shrugs, letting go of YN’s hand and getting pulled into the writing mass. Strangers brush pass her, their sweat gliding against YN’s skin and causing her to shiver in disgust. Fighting through the blob of people, YN makes it to the corner of the club, sitting awkwardly on a bench as a couple makes out a foot away from her. The noises they make cause YN great discomfort but she tries to drown it out by focusing on her phone.

It’s way too loud for her to try and watch a drama, so YN pulls up Amazon, buying a book that sounds interesting and settling in as best she can. Thankfully, the story hooks her from the first page and YN forgets where she is entirely, well, until some drunken idiot trips and spills liquor all over her.

YN shrieks in surprise as the girl hiccups out an apology before stumbling away, not even trying to help clean YN off. The girl wants to scream from frustration, already tired of the night even though it’s only ten o’ clock.

She fights her way through the crowd again, locating the bathroom after some difficulty. She pushes the women’s door open, cringing as some girl vomits in the stall. The smell is horrendous, YN holding her breath with puffed cheeks as she rushes over to the sink, wetting a paper towel to try and cleanse herself.

After she gets as much of the drink out as he can, she breathes in shallowly, standing under an electric hand dryer until the wet spot is gone. For a moment, YN contemplates staying in the bathroom but the girl starts vomiting again, urging her to head back out into the club.

But just as she walks out, someone smacks her with the men’s bathroom door, sending her tumbling down to the sticky floor.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” she screams, finally at her wit's end.

All she wants to do is go home and take a shower and pretend this night never happened.

“I am so sorry,”

At the sound of a voice, YN looks up, momentarily forgetting her anger as the most handsome man she’s ever seen leans over her, offering up his hand.

He’s gorgeous. His hair falls into his eyes, nearly masking his chocolate brown eyes. His jawline is so sharp YN wonders briefly if anyone’s ever knicked themselves on it.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

YN’s eyes flicker down to his lips, noticing how soft they look.

“I - yeah,” YN says, finally shaking herself out of shock enough to grab his hand.

He smiles then, revealing a dimple in his left cheek and pulls her up. The sight of it causes YN’s heart to skip a beat.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, tilting his head cutely.

Even his voice is attractive, deep in the way that’s just right, not too low or high.

YN nods like a bobblehead, dying inside from how embarrassing she’s being.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink to make up for it?” he asks.

“I - uh, I don’t drink. And I’m underage so . . .”

She regrets the words as soon as she’s spoken them, noticing how lame they make her seem.

“Ah, okay,” he says, still not letting go of her hand, “What’s your name?”

“YN,” she says instantly, ignoring the voice in her head that says giving her name out to a stranger - no matter how attractive he is - is a terrible idea.

“That’s pretty,”

“Thanks,” YN says, her internal systems fried.

Two seconds near this man and she’s reduced to one-word answers.

“Want to sit in my booth with me? You still look a little out of it,”

“Okay,” YN says, letting the handsome stranger lead her upstairs to VIP area, watching as he nods to the bouncer briefly.

This section of the club is a lot quieter, though the music can still be heard. It’s a much-needed break. YN brushes her hair out of her face, looking at the stranger who looks very relaxed in the booth, his elbows on the table and his hands crossed, his head resting on them as he looks YN over thoroughly.

“Your friend dragged you here?” he asks suddenly.

“How’d you know?”

“You don’t look very comfortable,”

“I’m not,” YN admits honestly, “I’m only here because my roommate wanted half-priced drinks,”

Jungkook laughs then, a sound YN finds herself feeling proud to have caused.

“I like you,” he says suddenly, YN’s cheeks coloring, “Most people would have gotten defensive,”

YN shrugs.

“It’s the truth. I’d much rather be at home. Even cleaning is better than this,”

“What do you like to do then, YN?” the stranger asks, genuinely curious.

And thus conversation begins.

Something about her has caught his attention. She’s pretty, definitely, but so are a lot of girls here. He can tell that his presence is affecting her by the way she steals peeks at him when she thinks he isn’t looking instead of blatantly giving him the bedroom eyes as most girls do. It’s refreshing, to say the least.

And as the hours pass, YN finds out that she and the man across from her actually have a lot in common from the types of movies they enjoy to their field of study.

“You failed American history?!” YN asks, laughing at how embarrassed he looks, “That’s such an easy class!”

“I’ve always been bad at History. I can never remember what happened in the past. But to be honest, I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. The past is the past. What matters now is the present,”

“I’d have to disagree with you there,” YN says, drinking her water a waiter (she didn’t even know clubs had waiters) had brought her a while ago, “History is important. You have to learn from the mistakes of the past to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen in the present,”

The man is silent for a moment, some indescribable look on his face.

“Are there any subjects you’ve failed,” he asks, changing the subject.

It’s obvious that YN hit a sore spot so she takes the bait.

“No, never. Calculus was incredibly difficult though,”

“I aced Calc,” the says, smirking.

“No way,”

He nods, placing his glass flute to his lips, letting the red liquid slide through his lips in a way that causes YN’s breath to catch and her to shift on the seat.

“Something about math just clicks. There are rules to follow and I respect that, you know? There’s an order to things,”

“I take it you didn’t take many liberal arts classes then, huh?”

“You’d be correct,”

“I love the liberal arts. That’s why I’m going for a business major. I want to be able to have the tools to help people, start a nonprofit,”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he says, face suddenly serious, “But good intentions don’t get you very far in life,”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” YN says, “And you probably won’t be the last. But it just makes me want to do it more,”

The fire in her eyes causes Jungkook to grin, leaning over the table.

“You’re incredibly fascinating, YN,” he says.

Before YN can respond, her phone rings, ruining the atmosphere.

“Sorry,” YN says, picking it up, “Hello?”

“YNNNNNNNNNN,” Miran says from over the phone, obviously drunk out of her mind, “I don - don’t feel so gud. I sleepy,” Miran giggles, “Some nice man is gonna take me home, okie,”

“No!” YN shouts, standing up quickly and rushing over to the balcony, peering over and spotting Miran’s head in the crowd, “I’m coming to get you, okay. Don’t go anywhere,”

YN smiles apoligetically at the handsome stranger.

“I’ve gotta go before my roommate gets kidnapped,”

Jungkook nods.

“Before you leave,” he begins, reaching into his inner breast pocket, pulling out a simple black card with white writing.

YN takes the card without looking at it, making her way downstairs to get Miran.

Thankfully Miran doesn’t puke on the way home but passes out instead. Leaving YN alone to her thoughts

It might be ridiculous, but YN felt a real connection to the man at the club. Everything he did, the way he moved, the way his voice floated through her ears, it all replays in YN’s head.

Once she rouses drunk Miran enough to get her into bed, YN stands in the shower, letting the water stream across her back, unaware of the man across town doing the same thing, both of their thoughts on the other.

[kingdomofbretonxrpg]

Parties: Our Villain and Kit Chareonsuk

Date: September 30th

Location: Starts on streets of Vannes

Triggers: violence, abuse, kidnapping, threats and generally nasty behaviour

@kit-chareonsuk

ooc// Our saga continues.

Villain

He was over this ridiculous game. He wanted to get back to some plain, old assassination. Murder was far easier than this kidnapping bullshit. He shifted his hat to cover his blackened eye. The little girl he tried to take just a few days ago had been one hell of a fighter and he was still astonished at how quickly she had managed to slip out of his grasp. Little bitch. It was time to bring the pain to someone who actually deserved it - that little pissant bastard and his pretty little lover. About fucking time.

He leaned back into the shadows, using the fading light and the curve of the building, protecting him from being seen, at least not too soon. Looking toward the entrance of the building, he waited for that pretty little lover boy to step out and walk into the fading light of day. The streets were quiet now. That thought amused him since the majority of those people meant shit to him. Then he straightened imperceptibly as he spotted his target. 

Kit:

It was a relief when the end of a long work day came, Kit walking out onto the street with just a hint of a headache behind his bleary eyes. Hours of fixing malfunctioning robotics software could do that. He sent a quick text to Aramis, letting him know that he was on his way home, and tightened his grip on his messenger bag as he walked down the street towards the nearest bus stop, not knowing that there was anyone lurking nearby on the mostly quiet street. 

His anxiety never really left him these days. It was always there, reminding him that Aramis was in danger. It made him move a little quicker, wanting to get home to his lover, back to the little bubble of feigned safety they’d created for themselves.

Villain:

As usual, he had parked the car a short distance away, in a blind spot from local surveillance cameras. Like most cities, Vannes thought itself something special with its security system but it was generally weak and haphazard, resting on laurels rather than reality. Of course, this only made his job a little easier and he had no real reason to criticize and yet still, internally they scoffed at their foolishness. He tried to move forward with ease and confidence, yet after the prior failure, he didn’t have the same spark for the whole exercise as it was previously. 

As he advanced, he considered the young man, moving with haste toward him. Not toward him of course. Toward the stop, he suspected, although he could be meeting someone. A meeting that he would rather insist his target would miss. He moved in front of him and came to a halt. The fold of his jacket parted just enough to make the nozzle of the handgun obvious. A dark blight against the backdrop of the well-dressed man. “Turn around and don’t make a fuss about it. I absolutely would not object to leaving you on this sidewalk in a pool of your own blood, in fact I’d frankly prefer it.”

Kit:

Kit looked down at his phone, sure that Aramis would have texted him about what they were having for dinner. He’d be cooking them something by now. But when Kit looked up from his phone, there was a figure before him, face slightly obscured by the brim of his hat. Kit was startled first by the sudden appearance, but then again when he realized what the stranger was holding. 

His throat tightened with anxiety at the words that followed this realization. Scowling, he slowly turned around. He wanted to shout, to do something, but there was no way he could do that with a gun pointed in his direction. Turning around, he tried to discreetly use his phone to call Aramis, slowly moving his thumb across the screen as he held the device at his side.

Villain:

“That’s a good little boy.” he crooned, amused by the obedience. He was a pretty thing now wasn’t it. “Let go of the phone boy. Just let it drop.” He instructed firmly, unable to resist pressing the nozzle of the firearm firmly into the young man’s back, hard enough to bruise. “And just keep walking.” He snarled. Just a short distance now. The vehicle loomed. This would be the last one, he prayed. He was tired of these particular creatures and keeping the hostages alive. It was tedious. 

Kit:

That’s a good little boy. Kit wanted to throw up. A lot. “Fuck you,” he snapped as he dropped his phone, peering down at it, his last text to Aramis on the screen. He had no idea what was about to happen to him, and he was scared out of his mind. But when he felt the gun pressed against his back hard, he reflexively swung an arm back to try and push the stranger off of him. He couldn’t just let this happen.

Villain:

“Maybe later.” He replied with a thread of satisfaction that he had gotten to the submissive. As he passed the phone, he brought his foot down heavily on it. He noted the screen had shattered before kicking it into the gutter. He hoped they found it later and figured out that he had gotten that bastard’s pretty lover boy. When the arm swung back it hit a bruise left by that little bitch from the other night. He snarled and wrapped a hand into Kit’s hair and pulled back roughly. “Try that again and you’ll end up in the gutter like your fucking phone.” he snarled. “Now move.” He shoved Kit forward, releasing his hand on the other male’s hair and using the nozzle of the gun to urge him onward. “Just open the backdoor and slide right on in, little bitch boy.” He ordered. The back seat of the car didn’t look special but in fact it was geared to being a prison cell. No handles, no ability to exit and a thin mesh preventing anyone in the back seat from getting into the front. It was a trap and all he needed was this submissive to climb right on in.

Kit:

Kit gasped as he felt the hand pull him back by his hair, trying hard not to let his panic show, swallowing his anxiety as best he could. He really did not want to end up in the gutter with his now shattered phone. So when he was pushed forward and further encouraged with the nozzle of the gun, he regained some level of his composure and walked, even if his heart was beating hard enough that he could hear it in his head. His will to survive, however, didn’t quite keep his mouth shut. “Who’s really the little bitch boy out of us? You’re just an errand boy for Armand, aren’t you?” When they reached the vehicle, Kit glared at the man behind him before sliding the door open. This was it. Once he got into this car, it was over. But it was either die here now or try to survive a little longer, so he got into the car, immediately crossing his arms. He surveyed his surroundings, noticing the changes made to the car, his current prison. There was no escape from here.

Villain:

The barb struck home and his jaw tightened. The little shit. He slammed the door closed behind the submissive and has to restrain himself from doing damage to the pretty little bitch. Sliding behind the wheel, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, clenching hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He forced himself to relax after his wrists started to ache from the strain. The vehicle turned into the early evening traffic and he began to drive. Although the temptation to head straight out of the city was strong, he knew better than that. He took a twisting path, heading out of the City and then back again in different routes. He refused to look in the backseat at the pretty little bitch boy. Stupid Aramis. Fucking asshole gets this pretty thing and he was still alone. Bastards all of them.

Kit:

If Kit had learned anything from a nearly lifelong friendship with Dean, it was how to get under people’s skin. His best friend was incredibly gifted in this regard. Kit eyed the driver of the car, his captor, noting how tightly he held the steering wheel. “So is your job just like...failing to kill targets and kidnapping people or do you also have to get Armand off after too? Does he pay you a lot or are you just like in it for the craft?” Kit’s eyes peered as best he could through the front windshield to watch where they were going, but the winding trail was hard to track. “Or are you being forced into this too? Do you need help? Blink twice if you need help.” He kicked the back of the man’s seat. “No, guess not. You seem to like being Armand’s bitch too much.” 

Villain:

His jaw clenched so hard that his molars started to crack. Little fucker. Finally, on a back country road, the car screeched to a stop and he whipped around, his hand weaving into the mesh. If the mesh didn’t exist, his fist would have been buried in the submissive’s face. “Listen here you little shit. You’re nothing but trash I have to pick up to make a fucking point. Now shut the hell up or I’ll go back into this fucking city and get someone else after fucking burying your body in that field. If you’re lucky I’ll kill you first. Got that!” he snarled.

Kit:

When the car lurched to a stop and the arm went for the mesh keeping them apart, any bravery Kit had been feeling disappeared and the anxiety that normally had him lashing out, now had him silently glaring at the man through the mesh. This man could really kill him. “Oh, did your master tell you it was okay to kill me? Or do you like it when he punishes you?” Kit leaned back in the seat, slumping slightly as he crossed his arms, still openly glaring. 

Villain:

His fist pounded against the mesh and if looks could kill, Kit would already have been six feet under. He would have loved to have killed him. It wouldn’t have been hard even. This keeping them alive bullshit was way more fuss than it was worth. “He just said to get a few. You personally don’t matter at all. To anyone. I bury you out there, they’ll have forgotten about you by the time they are putting up the Christmas decorations you little slut. Now shut the fuck up.” He growled before turning around. 

Just as quickly as it has stopped, the vehicle roared to life. He didn’t bother with any more fiddle faddle, driving around bullshit. Instead he took the side roads that would lead to the cottage where the other prisoners waited. The annoying girl who supposedly couldn’t hear and the big pretty bitch. The road became jerky, hurling the vehicle around as they bumped, shimmied and ground over the harsh, rutted road. Pulling into the garage as night descended around them, he waited until the doors had closed completely before exiting the vehicle. If he had it his way, his three ‘guests’ would be in shallow graves out back soon enough. Until then, he needed to be patient. God help him. 

Kit:

You’re wrong, Kit thought. Aramis will find me. In fact, that was exactly what he feared would happen. Aramis would search for him. And find him. And get himself hurt. He could only hope his boyfriend took his advice and went to Katarin for help. He hoped Aramis didn’t give this man an opportunity to hurt him. With this thought, Kit continued to glare at the back of the man’s seat as he started the car up again.

Kit’s gaze drifted out the window, trying to get a good look at where they were going. As the road got bumpier, he took note. They were going further out than the main roads, obviously. Not surprising. When they reached their destination, Kit watched as the garage door closed, perhaps his last view of the outside world for a while. Maybe forever if this guy was seriously thinking of killing him. Watching the man as he got out of the vehicle, Kit positioned himself as far away from him as he could in the back seat, wary of what was about to happen.

Villain:

He took a few calming breaths and tried to centre himself. Just a short time now. Then this fucking nightmare would be over and he could get back to killing people like God or … well … the Devil intended. Finally he slowly slid out of the front seat and closed the door with a snap. Then he withdrew the gun again and opened the door to the backseat. “Nice and slow, little bitch. Cause at this point. I don’t fucking care any more. Out … now.” He gestured with the gun, directly Kit toward the back of the garage where a simple door waited to lead the submissive to his fate. 

Kit:

Kit really did pride himself on making this man lose the ability to give a shit. Truly. But when the gun was pointed at him again, there wasn’t much he could do to regain any sense of control he might have delusionally thought he had of this situation. He slowly slid across the back seat, balking as his gaze fell on the gun itself. He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen one in person before, and now it was pointed at him. He let the man guide him towards the door, not wanting to know what was on the other side of it. He stopped in front of it, limbs freezing in fear. 

Villain:

“I don’t have time for you to be a scared little bitch. Open the fucking door you little shit and head on down.” He snarled moodily. He nudged Kit in the back with his free hand and then slapped the back of the submissive’s head roughly. “Hurry up. I’m already tired of your shit.” Down those stairs was the row of cells, already incarcerating the others. “Get going. Now.”

Kit:

Kit resisted slightly as he was pushed forward, letting out a yelp when he was slapped in the head. “Fuck...! Fine. Fucking asshole,” he cursed as he reached out and gripped the handle, opening the door. It was dark as he made his way down the steps. He knew it would be. He did not expect to find cells down there. He was sad to recognize both of the occupants there as he squinted through the darkness, though he was glad they were alive. This guy seemed unhinged enough to actually murder someone when he wasn’t busy being a lousy shot. 

Villain:

“I’ll fuck yours later if I get bored and want some asshole’s sloppy seconds.” He stated with a loud growl. He followed the submissive down the stairs, where the row of cells awaited. Jadon’s poor bandaged arm the only evidence of any physical harm. “Step inside. First open one. Don’t test me you little bitch, I’ll fucking shoot your damned ass, just drag you into a cell and everyone can enjoy the pleasant scents as you rot on the floor.”

Kit:

“Lucky for me I’m sure you have a very exciting evening of being fucking evil planned,” Kit spat. He told himself it was probably an empty threat even as his anxiety spiked. Walking past the two occupied cells, he glanced at the occupants briefly before entering the first empty one. There was no point in fighting it now. The least he could do was try to draw attention away from the other two when he could. “You made a mistake, taking me, you know. This is how you’re going to fail.” He wished he could be as sure as he forced himself to sound, but when he didn’t arrive home to Aramis, he knew his Dominant would tear apart the whole country until he was found.

Villain:

For once, he laughed. Actually laughed. The sound was so unfamiliar that it seemed rusty and strange in his throat and to his ears. As Kit stepped inside, he reached for the door to the human sized cage and tugged it closed. It slammed closed with a loud jangle. “You’re in a cage and your little bitch boyfriend is exactly nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even protect you. I can’t wait to bury you out back and forget I ever saw your damn face.”

Kit:

This guy really was underestimating Aramis. “Give him a little time,” Kit said as he watched the door to his cell close. He gripped the bars of his cage and tried to gather any courage he had left. “I’ll be sure to remember your face so I can identify you in a lineup or point you out in court when the time comes. Looking forward to it.” He glared at the man. “When you report into your master, tell him I said hi.” 

Villain:

He turned on his heel and headed up the stairs, flicking off the last remaining light as he did so, plunging the basement from semi-darkness to total darkness. He would be damned if this plan would get him killed. He was following orders and frankly three bullets and a shallow graves would appeal to him much more than this bullshit. He didn’t respond to the submissive. Frankly, he had already stopped listening to the boy. He was in his own worries now. Fucking hell…. This was bullshit.

Kit:

When the lights went out completely, Kit bit the inside of his cheek, trying to quell his fear. He slowly started to walk the perimeter of his cage, small as it was. Pacing was all he could really do other than sit and wait to either be found or killed. His heart pounded in his chest, but he had to stay calm. He couldn’t give that guy the satisfaction of anxiety attack. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself as it all really started to sink in just how much trouble he was in.

Kit sat down and let himself panic, making himself as small as he possibly could as he tried to just keep breathing.

[realityhelixcreates]

Temple of Tree Bark/The Adulation of Tongues

Chapters: 46/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), It’s Just (Ah) A Little Crush (Crush), Longing For A Longhouse, Shiny Shrines Summary:  You come to a conclusion and share some light conversation, as a mysterious illness spreads.

You dozed lightly under the golden sparkles of the healing machines, while Loki sat by your side, going through his daily paperwork. You still couldn't help but wonder if this really would fix your face or not. These machines had not been built with humans in mind, so this was technically experimental medicine.

You'd been given back your snacks, deemed poison-free, and shared them with Loki. He was not particularly taken with your favorite cheese crackers, but he proved fond of chocolate covered peanuts.

He spoke to you about his paperwork, the complaints and requests of the people, his voice a soothing backdrop to your rest.

It wasn't just his voice. You had come to the conclusion that you were developing a hunger for his presence. What you weren't sure about yet was if it was because he made you feel safe-being strong, and magical, and powerful in many ways-or if it was something else.

If it was the former, that did make a kind of sense. Your relation to Loki was complicated. He was the cause of many of  your worries, many of the dangers you now faced, but he also hadn't really done it on purpose, and most of the things he did for you were to ameliorate your troubles. He really seemed to care.

If it was the latter, if you were actually falling for the handsome prince, like in some fairy tale...Well, you didn't know what you were going to do. Was that even allowed? You weren't even the same species.

But the king had famously pursued Dr. Foster. So perhaps it was. Or perhaps that was one of the many changes to the law Thor had made, or at least proposed to make. Saga had had much to say about it.

But Dr. Foster was an astrophysicist with a PhD and everything. You were not. Everything special about you had been given to you, rather than earned. Forced on you, one could say. Loki had swooped in and done so much for you, and he clearly intended to do more. You couldn't expect him to love you on top of all that. No, it surely wasn't possible between you, and you found yourself hoping it was just the former.

You'd already had your heart broken, and worse. The reminder of that dark time in your life was camping outside the city, with a bunch of protesters who hated Loki, and everything they thought he stood for.

This was no time for romance. This was no time to even want romance. This was a time for you to be learning magic, and law, and self defense. Romance had to be secondary, tertiary, even quaternary to all that.

You shouldn't think about it. The more you thought about it, the more likely it was to become what you were telling yourself you couldn't want. After all, wouldn't it justify what that murderer was trying to do? Wouldn't it make you a traitor to the human race, the 'devil's whore' as he had called you?

No! Of course not! That guy was just a murderous racist, nothing he said really mattered. Besides, you couldn't betray humanity by caring about someone. Loki was no devil, and he wouldn't pay you to sleep with him, so you were no whore.

Oh no, shouldn't have thought about sleeping with Loki. Shouldn't have thought about it...

But you already knew the strength of his arms and the gentleness of his hands. The intensity of his gaze and the weight of his body on yours. The smell of his hair, the texture of his skin, the bubbling tingle of his magic inside you. You even knew what most of his body looked like by now, when you had seen him bare and dripping with bathwater.

The golden healing light always made you feel warm, but the heat crawling up your face had nothing to do with it this time.

Okay fine, maybe you had a little crush. You knew how to deal with living around what you couldn't have, and you were an adult. You could handle rejection.

You could also imagine what his voice would sound like, how his face would contort in the throes of passion...

“Are you all right, my dear?” Loki asked, concern lacing his voice. “You are squirming a bit. Is is uncomfortable?”

“No, I'm fine!” You shouldn't be thinking about things like that. He was sitting right there!

“Do tell me if there is anything wrong. If it becomes uncomfortable, I can turn the machine down, or give you another massage, if you'd like.”

Foul tempter. Maybe he was a devil after all.

A commotion approached, multiple voices spouting fast-paced Asgardian. Loki frowned, lines on his brow.

“It sounds like a construction worker has been injured. I'll go check.”

He left for a few moments, returning wearing a perplexed expression.

“It appears that he is not injured, but has come down with some illness from which he will not wake. His brother found him like this, and is going to be kept here as well.”

You sat up under the golden sparkles. “Now that's something I never thought of! Even between groups of humans, first contact always brought terrible diseases! Can Asgardians even get sick?”

“Asgardians fall ill, yes.” Loki confirmed. “Aesir do not.”

“Maybe that's why Thor didn't unleash a plague the first time he came here. But I've been surrounded by Asgardians for months, and I haven't gotten sick, or gotten anybody else sick. I'm sorta connected to an Aesir though, that might be why. Or maybe our diseases are just so different from each others, that they are just now starting to mutate into something that can infect one another. Loki, we've really got to look into germ science! We could be sitting on an epidemic!”

“Darling, I know!” He grasped your hand tightly, stroking the back of it to soothe you. “We have thought of this, and we have already begun. Humankind is very aware of the dangers of pathology that an alien species presents. We have submitted to your doctors, samples of every disease known to affect us...no matter how much some argued they could be used to make weapons against us.”

“Or vaccines!” You pointed out.

“Your optimism is a balm, my dear.” He said. “That was the initial purpose, of course. The Earth will be safe from our pathogens with your crude, but effective vaccines, and we shall be safe from your illnesses with the use of our own medicine.”

The commotion started all over again.

“Another one?” Loki wondered.

“Maybe we should go.” You said. “What if they need this room? My face can wait.”

                                                                    *****

Blueprints and road plans, that was his life now. He'd been a mason before, and fairly idle: Asgard rarely needed new buildings, and rarely needed repairs done; it had been so solidly built in the first place. He's made most of his living in the colonies before...before.

Now he lived, crammed with the rest of the population into tiny apartments that he had helped build; temporary shelters for the severely reduced realm of Asgard, while the survivors of Ragnarok all pitched in to build homes, businesses, and roads. He was lucky. He'd had training in building things, and had been given authority over an entire crew of workers. Unfortunately, nearly none of them had been builders. They'd been butchers, metalworkers, artists, scribes. But they did their best, and the nation was growing up from the ground, sturdily if not quickly.

The door opened, and the figure of his wife hustled in.

“Hildegarde, sweet one, I did not expect you back so soon.” He smiled at her, still so blessed by her presence. They had come through so much together. “Let me get you something to drink.”

“Please, that would be lovely.” She said. “I left a little early today. As much was done as could be, for now.”

He dutifully fetched a pitcher of Midgardian ale-weak, but flavorful-for her. Hildegarde worked hard breaking ground and mixing cement, work only for those with strong backs and arms. He was so lucky.

She took a good, long drink, no doubt weary from a hard days work.

“Oh, I haven't the patience.” She declared, holding her arms open. “Come to me darling. I have a well-deserved reward for you!”

He chuckled, wrapping her up in a hug and bringing his lips to hers. Her kiss was more electrifying than he remembered, bringing a rush of pleasure and contentment. It went on and on, until her strong arms were holding him up, his legs no longer able to support him.

Still, he felt no fear, even as he weakened further, only pleasure, and the deep heartfelt love he had for his wife, even as he struggled to draw breath. She would not let him.

Not until his eyes had glazed over, and the last dregs of his life ebbed, did she drop him on the floor and leave, tail swishing behind her.

                                                                        *****

You were much better able to walk the next day, though it was still easy to become dizzy and overbalanced, so Loki took you to the healing wing early, to absorb some healing light. There was wailing the wing however, as one of the men had died in the night, and the others-five in total-remained asleep. The newest had been brought in just before you had arrived, by his distraught wife, who claimed she'd been working deep into the evening and had simply fallen asleep at her construction site, only to come home in the morning to find him collapsed on the floor.

“This is spreading far too quickly.” Loki murmured to you. “We should come back later.”

Instead he took you back to the tiny library in his rooms, gave you paper to draw on, and began pulling old books from his shelves.

“Some of these are from my father's collection.” He said, flipping one open. “Here is a human temple once dedicated to him.”

He showed you an illustration of a large wooden building, ornate and clearly ancient.

“Alas, not a trace of it exists anymore. Wood is impermanent, and subject to a great many methods of destruction. Still, I hear it was nice while it lasted, for such a primitive construction.”

“Hey, I think it looks really nice.” You said. “So we're behind on our Nornbein technology or whatever. We still build some pretty cool things. Ever see the pyramids?”

“Of course I have. Not when they were new, no. They were old, even as I was young. I'm only a thousand or so, that's all.”

“Oh...that's all.”

“What? Brunnhilde is three, and Heimdall is nearly five. He might have seen them when they were new.”

“Okay, but they are pretty impressive, yeah? And they weren't built by aliens either!”

“Of course not! It would have taken much less time to build them, their decorations would have been more securely fastened in place, and, most importantly, aliens would not have built such things and then simply abandoned them.”

“Did you ever get a temple?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He crossed his arms sourly. “In my youth, a transition was taking place on your Midgard. In the lands where I and my people were known, a new religion and new power structure were taking over, and they replaced us. But Odin was pulling away from Midgard anyway, and so we disappeared from your world. Fewer and fewer of us came for our training modules, and we were gradually forgotten.”

“You sure aren't forgotten anymore! Maybe they'll build a temple for you now.”

“Hmph. More like a gallows.”

“Loki!”

“Yes, yes, alright. Perhaps I will eventually be accepted. But I doubt there will be even the tiniest shrines to me anytime soon.”

You shrugged. “I could make one. A shrine to the great god of...wait, what are you the god of?” He wasn't the god of evil, like that book had claimed, but no one had ever told you what, exactly, his Aesir associations were.

“How cute. What would it look like? Your little shrine to your god?” He asked, skirting the question entirely, leaning his chin on his hands, elbows on the table.

“Er, w-well...” Your god? You didn't worship him! You didn't really worship anybody right now. With everything that had happened over the past few years, you had some things to figure out, regarding spirituality.

“Well, I've never built anything before, so it wouldn't be very big, or very fancy. I think what I would do-” You began sketching. “Is to get a bunch of rocks or bricks, and make a circle. Then put layers and layers on top until it's kinda like a well? Then I'd put a plate inside, and make offerings of cinnamon pastries.”

“How utterly charming. I might just decree that you must do exactly that.”

“Try it and I might just leave plain cinnamon sticks instead.” You threatened.

“It comes in sticks? I could just have a bite of pure cinnamon?”

You laughed. “You don't want that! It's literally just tree bark!”

“Truly? You just peel bark from a tree and put it in your food? Humans really will eat anything.”

“Anything that doesn't instantly kill us, and a few things that will only kill us slowly. Though you'd be surprised how much of what we eat is just beans or grass. The coffee? Beans. The corn? Grass. The chocolate covered peanuts? Beans and beans. Bread? Grass.

But then there are the fun things: The herbs and spices. Well, herbs are just leaves, it's spices that get really fun. Spices are basically anything that isn't leaves. Cinnamon is bark. Ginger is a root. Saffron is the stamen of a flower, and cloves are just dried up flower buds. There's also lots and lots of seeds, and some berries, and even hot peppers, which are just dried fruits.”

“You really aren't helping your case, you voracious little thing.” Loki teased.

“Oh yeah? Well, you're making Asgardian food sound super boring.” You shot back. “Are you seriously telling me that you guys conquered whole worlds, and didn't try the food?”

“Oh no, we absolutely did.” He took a piece of your paper and began sketching. “But it was the Vanir and the Alfar that had the most culinary influence on us. The Vanir prefer delicate, subtle flavors, and the Alfar are very...natural eaters. As you might expect from the ecology of their worlds, they do not employ much fire, therefore, much of their food is uncooked.

We took these influences and added our own flair. We like a good sauce, or a nice, thick gravy, but we simply don't celebrate the riot of flavor that humans so prize. I suppose that will change in time, as humankind exerts their own influence upon us. Or perhaps it will be the other way around, and we will convince humans to cease over-spicing everything.”

“Never gonna happen. Humans have fought actual wars over spices.”

“Well, perhaps we can convince humans not to go to war over every little thing as well.”

You sighed. “That's...also probably never gonna happen.”

“Shame.” He said. “Sounds like you could use a strong, fair, firm ruler. If only you'd had the opportunity to acquire one of those...”

“Oh, cut it out. You've already told me why that wouldn't have been a good idea in the end.”

“I have said no such thing. Just that the Earth would have been in danger either way, and I would have whipped you all into shape, and led you to glorious power. Of course, I could just be talking about you in particular, rather than humanity as a whole. You, who now live with royalty within arm's reach. Would you like a strong, fair ruler?”

His pointed stare, his little smirk, the way he leaned in, chin in hands, had your pulse pumping so hard that it hurt your tender head.

Was he flirting with you? No way.

The instant you turned away and grasped your head, he dropped all of his teasing and scooted close, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring concern. It was really too bad that being in his arms like this just made your head hurt more; it made it impossible for you to enjoy the moment.

“Maybe we should go back to the healing wing? Things should have calmed down by now.”

He brought his paperwork with him, and even saw a few petitioners out in the waiting room, allowing you to doze contentedly under the healing sparkles. Only when he was certain you were deeply asleep, did he leave to find his brother.

                                                                        *****

“So, when's little brother gonna propose?” Brunnhilde teased, as Thor wove a patterned sash from yarn. He'd taken up the habit to help with some of his issues after Ragnarok, the act of creation helping to mitigate the terrible memories of destruction. He occasionally sold his creations on human Etsy, under an alias. Very few people knew about it, and none of them were Avengers. Each of them was receiving a scarf for this winter's holidays.

“You jest,” He said, turning the dainty cards with careful delicacy, another skill he'd had to learn. “But you have not yet seen my brother in the throes of love. When Loki desires something, he begins planning immediately. He becomes consumed by that desire. It's actually a very common Jotun trait.”

“Yeah, they do get like that. You know, if you'd told me a thousand years ago that there would be a frost giant in the royal family, I'd have called you a liar and a blasphemer. And yet, here we are.” Brunnhilde shrugged. “He's a decent kid though, even if he has a few bad habits.”

“It's not as if I'm really that different.” Thor pointed out. “But my point is, I'm surprised that he hasn't been ordering her flowers, or draping her with jewels, or-”

“Thor!” Loki called, stalking into his rooms. “I need some good, Midgardian love poetry. Have you any recommendations?”

“There we go.” Thor said. Brunnhilde snickered. “And what is wrong with our poetry?” He asked.

“Nothing, in theory. It's just that I do not think it will translate well, and it's also full of concepts that _____ won't relate to. She's never been on a battlefield, under the stars. She's never experienced the whirl of combat, nor found any attestation to life therein. She's never had to fix the memory of a loved one in her mind while staring down a faceless horde in the moments before a war began, or heard the song of her lover in the clashing of swords or the whir of arrows. I don't think any of our metaphors will really reach her.”

“Have you asked her if she even likes poetry?” Brunnhilde asked.

“Everyone likes poetry.” Loki said. “Don't they?”

The Valkyrie shrugged. “Maybe. Why don't you ask her what kind she likes? It's not as if humans are strangers to battle; perhaps war poetry is popular here too.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You know, I think she's had enough surprises over the past few months. She might actually like a little stability now. You might just consider including her in your plans regarding her every now and then, I bet she'd appreciate it.”

“Well...perhaps...Thor, your opinion?”

“I'd like to preface this by reminding you that, while I am the only person you know who has had a relationship with a human, that relationship ultimately failed. Do not hang too much upon my advice alone.”

“Well then, who else might I ask?” Loki asked in frustration.

“Humans!” Thor and Brunnhilde exclaimed as one.

“Hmph!” Loki crossed his arms. “I come to you for advice for once, and you blow me off! Typical.”

“I am not blowing you off, Loki, just saying that our experiences may be very different. There is no one way to court a human. Their wooing requirements can be vastly different from one another, and if you do not meet her individual requirements, she might not even recognize what you are trying to do.

Jane, for instance, has no interest in poetry, and did not want that from me. She found beauty and fulfillment in the vastness of the universe. Discover what she finds beauty in, and work with that.”

“That is...actually good advice.” Loki said. “What happened you you?”

Thor sighed, deep and dramatic. “I fear I may have begun to grow up.”

“Norns forbid!” Loki cried, clutching his chest, and both brothers broke into amicable chuckling.

“Yes, yes. You're both adorable, and I love you.” Brunnhilde interrupted. “But I have some concerns regarding your Buridag plans. Are you seriously going to let a bunch of unsupervised humans in here? Because they will be unsupervised. Because we don't have enough bodies to throw at the security detail. I think I've brought this up before, but, while I do think it is a good idea in theory, I don't know how we're going to swing the logistics.”

“By recruiting humans to police themselves, naturally.” Loki said. “Behold. A plan I have for securing the loyalty of our worshipers. And also benefiting them at the same time. That's the important part, truly.”

He held out the sketches he had made while speaking to you earlier. Thor took and examined them.

“Are these...These are longhouses?” He asked, baffled.

“Ooh, those look cozy.” Brunnhilde commented.

“Trollerkaerhalla is going to become a permanent fixture of Asgardian life; our friendly neighbors, who love and venerate us, as we deserve. They have defended us, they have sheltered _____ without question, and they are possibly the first and only human allies that I, personally, have on this planet. I propose that, as we are constructing a building to house justice for Buridag, that we also build this simple housing for our allies. You have looked upon the camp; you know some of those tents will not protect against the upcoming winter. These houses will protect them, as they did in the days of humans past. Updated for the modern setting, of course.”

“You want to build homes for the humans.” Thor said, his voice full of disbelief.

“_____ spoke about an oddly human concept called 'reconstruction' in which humans of today try to connect with the ways of humans from the past, so I thought this design would be well-suited to the humans in the camp. It shouldn't be hard to build in modern amenities either: electric wiring, and plumbing, and geothermal heating should all be easily-”

The King of Asgard grabbed his brother by the shoulder and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Oof!” Loki grunted at the sudden squeeze. “I take it this meets your approval then?”

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12: Fusion Reborn (2/6)

This time around, I’ll try to explain just what Janemba is, exactly, and why he’s a big deal.  But to do that, we have to get through the first ten minutes of this movie, so...

Movie 12 opens at the Grand Kai Planet, then pans to an asteroid orbiting the planet, where there’s a stadium hosting a tournament.    I never really paid attention to it before, but this is a whole other venue than the one used in DBZ 196-199.    If nothing else, this arena has a big green ring.   It looks like it’s made ouf of jade or something.��  It’s a really nice touch.

I always assumed that the idea here was to hold a second Otherworld Tournament, since the one from Episodes 196-199 ended without a winner.    Then again, it’s been seven years since that event, so it seems odd that they would have waited so long.   On the other hand, everyone involved is either dead or a Kai, so seven years may not seem like that long a wait.  

King Kai, also known as the North Kai, is feeling really confident, since his top fighter, Goku, dominated the last tournament.   As before, East Kai and South Kai’s camps aren’t doing very well at all.   

But South Kai is still confident, since one of his fighters is still in the semifinals.   The subs refer to him as “Clove”, but I’m pretty sure he’s talking about Frog, or “Frogue” as he’s credited in the Funimation version.

So he and King Kai bicker about who’s gonna win, but Goku beats Frogue with a single kick, and I’m pretty sure the bout was shorter than their argument. 

Meanwhile, Pikkon defeats Aqua, aka Argua, in the other semifinal match.   I guess Aqua must have improved over the past seven years to have made it this far.

So that eliminates the East and South Galaxies from the tournement.    South Kai immediately starts rooting for Pikkon just to spite King Kai.   It’s kind of weird how Pikkon is a West Galaxy guy, but we don’t hear a lot from West Kai in this movie.    Maybe South Kai got the nod because he was actually in the manga, so he’s more “canonical” than the West or East Kais. 

So the final match is Goku vs. Pikkon, in a rematch of their epic match from Episodes 198 and 199.   That ended in a draw when both men touched the ceiling of the arena, and maybe that’s why they switched the venue this time.  

Both men do Respect Knuckles and the match begins.  

What I like about this movie is that this isn’t even the main story, but it totally could have been.  Toei did a five episode arc about the Grand Kai holding a tournament of all these dead fighters.  They could have done a movie that was just a sequel to that arc.   I don’t know how well-received it would have been, but I would have gone for it.    Maybe a new fighter dies and joins this group in the afterlife, and Goku has trouble against him.   Maybe you have Broly escape hell and crash the tournament.  There’s a lot of cool things you can do with this, but you could just have Goku and Pikkon fight some more.

But Movie 12 has even bigger things to get to, so this is just a scene to establish some of the characters.   And that’s how this movie rolls.  You could expand this story into a twenty-or-thirty-episode saga very easily.   

So we move on to King Yemma’s place, which the dub refers to as the “Check-In Station.”   I’m not super-familiar with Japanese mythology concerning the afterlife, but my understanding is that when you die, you go to King Yemma for judgement.     DBZ satirizes this idea by having the dead people’s souls wait in line, and all the oni who work for Yemma are like white collar wage slaves, and King Yemma has a desk with a big rubber stamp to notarize each soul’s fate.

In this particular scene, they’re having a busy day, probably echoing the episodes from the Buu Saga where millions of people were showing up every few minutes while Majin Buu was wiping out the Earth’s population.   Yemma’s basically zipping right through these guys, which I think is meant to be ironic.   I feel like the real King Yemma is supposed to take longer to examine a person’s moral character.  

Anyway, if you get sent to Heaven, you’re escorted to this big aircraft that flies you to a planet somewhere in Otherworld.     We’ll see it later in the Fusion Saga, but the plane was last seen in Episode 195, although Goku used a second, smaller plane to travel to the Grand Kai Planet. 

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure this hole that opens up in the wall is new.   In Episode 195, Goku and King Kai just walked through a doorway.

If you’re condemned to Hell, you have to go through a machine to cleanse your soul of evil.  I was under the impression that hell itself was meant to do that, but this franchise can never make up its mind about how hell works. 

According to Episode 237, when you’re a bad person and you die, you don’t get to keep your body like Goku did, and your soul is eventually purged of memory, and reincarnated as a new life form.    I don’t know how much of that is based on actual Japanese mythology, if any, but at least in DBZ, the idea of hell is not to act as a place of eternal suffering for the wicked.    It’s more like a very long jail sentence, designed to redeem the wicked so that they can proceed onto reincarnation or maybe some other phase of existence.   The suffering is part of the rehabilitation process.

I think that’s why Frieza still had his body in Movie 15, even after so many years in hell.    They let him keep it, but only so he could experience greater torment.   In theory, he would get so worn down that he would come to accept his punishment as the rightful consequence of all his evil deeds, and then his body would dissipate and he would lose his memory and identity.    But Frieza’s such a hateful bitch that he hung in there long enough to get wished back to life.  

On the other hand, these souls are all formless clouds.   It seems like only important characters get to keep their bodies in hell.   That may just be a convenience for the audience, or maybe stronger bad guys can maintain their physical form more easily.   Maybe that’s why they didn’t send Frieza through this machine.    He would have gummed up the works and broken it.    Maybe it’s only used for the not-so-evil souls who are easier to deal with.   Instead of spending 100,000 years climbing the needle mountain, they can just go through the cleansing machine and move on.

Whatever the case, this movie establishes that a machine cleans souls and extracts their evil residue in the form of a dark purple liquid that gets stored in special tanks.  

And they have an oni on duty to keep an eye on things and switch out the tanks when they get full.    But it’s a dull job, and the pay sucks, so he listens to a Walkman and plays air guitar to help pass the time.

But King Yemma’s sending an awful lot of people to hell today.   He’s not even taking a break for lunch.   So that waste tank’s going to fill up quickly.

Okay, I just realized that all of these guys wear tiger-striped clothes, and I think that’s because oni in folklore wear tiger-skins.   They do in Yu Yu Hakusho, and I assume they dress a little more authentically there.    Their version of King Yemma is treated like a bigger deal.    Anyway, one of the older workers scolds the Tank Clerk for slacking off, and threatens him with a pay cut.  

He also points out the rapidly filling tank, and the clerk seems enthusiastic about switching it, but he never actually does.

I really dig this guy’s jacket.   That skull and crossbones looks cool.

But soon enough, there’s an overload on the waste system, and the line breaks.   I guess the oni don’t believe in relief flanges, but maybe spiritual waste is too hazardous to release into the atmosphere.     Well, it’s happening now.

Tank Clerk knows right away that he’s screwed.   He’s worried for his job, and he has no idea what to do about a spill this big.    I think it’s more than just the one tank breaking.    Like, somehow it set off a chain reaction that blew all the other tanks they had sitting nearby.   Man, OSHA would have a field day with this place.   Why is Tank Clerk wearing shorts to work when he’s surrounded by toxic waste?    What good is a fire extinguisher going to do?   Does he have no idea how to respond to this situation?   Who here does?

But then things go from bad to worse, as the spirit waste mutates him into some sort of bizarre creature.  

Yeah, you might want to have a doctor take a look at that.

As soon as King Yemma hears what’s going on, he shits a brick.   Those tanks contained accumulated evil from countless souls that have been through that cleansing machine.    Why didn’t they dispose of any of it?   Can it be destroyed?   Is that Beerus’ job?  Like he just shows up every hundred years and zaps the full tanks into oblivion?   Well, he won’t be invented for another 18 years, so Yemma’s on his own for this one.

As for Tank Clerk, well he looks like this now.   

Then he sits on top of Yemma’s building and... I’m not really sure what this is.   Let’s start over.    So this monster that was once the Tank Clerk only says one word, and that’s “Janemba”, which isn’t even a word, I think.   So everyone calls him that like it’s his name.  

Apparently his power is some sort of reality manipulation?   That’s pretty vague, actually, since manipulating reality implies you can basically do anything, but what else can I call this?   Janemba creates all these huge jellybean-looking crystals, and some of them used to be other objects, but maybe others were created from nothing.    I think he encased Yemma’s palace in a crystal, but it sort of looks like he distorted the building at the same time.

Inside, things look pretty normal, but there’s some crystal formations within the building, and one of the ogres gets encased in it himself.  

Also, Janemba can project his image in different parts of these crystals.    Maybe this is meant to be simple reflections and refractions, but it seems more magical than that.  

Yemma seems to understand what’s going on better than I do, but there’s nothing he can do about it.    Janemba is the result of the tank clerk being possessed by the evil ki in the spirit waste.    This gave him the ability to surround Yemma’s domain with a barrier, and that barrier has suspended Yemma’s control over the boundary between the living world and the afterlife.   The only way to stop it is to defeat Janemba, and Yemma can’t very well do this while he’s trapped in his own stronghold.  

As I think about it, I sort of wonder if it’s not just the spiritual waste and the evil ki it contains that gave Janemba this power.    Maybe it has something to do with the Tank Clerk as well, since he’s an oni.    Alone, he’s just a lowly subordinate of Yemma, but he must have some sort of power in matters of the living and the dead, and maybe all this evil ki amplified that to make him strong enough to thwart King Yemma.

But that only explains “how”.   There’s still the question of “why?”   It’s often pointed out that Janemba is a pretty weak villain because he doesn’t talk and he has no apparent goals or motives.   But I think that’s a common trait with a lot of Dragon Ball villains.  

Pilaf and Piccolo wanted to conquer the world, but I’m pretty sure both guys only said that because that’s such a stock answer.    It’s a vague expression of desire for power and control, but Pilaf can’t even run more than two people at a time, and Piccolo only wanted to rule the world so he could destroy its people and stick it to Kami.   I think you can lump in with that all the bad guys who wanted to be immortal:  Garlic Junior, Frieza, Vegeta.   Lord Slug only wished for youth, but that’s just because he lacked the imagination to wish or immortality.    The ultimate point was just to eliminate any threats to their existing power.  

Then you have guys like Turles and Dr. Wheelo, who only seemed to be interested in acquiring greater power for themselves.  There were hints in Movies 2 and 3 about what those guys would do with their power once they had enough.   Wheelo would probably continue doing evil experiments on the world, and Turtles maybe would have overthrown Frieza, but Turles strikes me as a free spirit, and he only wanted to be strong enough to keep guys like Frieza from hassling him.    For all we know, Dr. Wheelo only wanted Goku’s body because he missed having sex.   

Then you’ve got the revenge squad: Dr. Gero, Cooler, Crane Hermit, Paragus, Broly ‘93, Lord Jaguar, Babidi.   All of these guys wanted blood in exchange for some personal slight that really isn’t worth it.   Well, Jaguar didn’t actually want to kill anyone, but that only makes him an idiot.    You don’t clone an army of bio-warriors unless you want someone dead.  

The point I’m getting at here is that most of these guys have really lousy motivations, and that doesn’t even get into the villains with seemingly no motivations at all. 

Commander Red wanted to be taller, which is so stupid he kept it a secret because he knew it was stupid, and the only guy he told ended up shooting him in the face because of how stupid it was.   

Mercenary Tao was in it for money, even though he famously never paid for anything.  

Tien wanted to kill people because he looked up to killers until they started killing people he liked.

Android 17 and Cell wanted to have fun.   I’d throw 18 into that group, but honestly, I think she just sort of went along with whatever 17 did, which is almost sadder.

Who the hell knows what Bojack wanted?    He got killed before he could really spell it out. 

And then you have Majin Buu, who doesn’t even understand his own motivations.   He thought he only killed people for fun, and then when he decided it was wrong, he stopped, only to transform into another form who wanted to fight, and then another form who killed people for its own sake.

Now these are all really shitty motivations, and yet at the same time a lot of these guys are classic villains.   That’s because the thesis of Dragon Ball is that power without purpose is self-defeating.    Goku uses his strength to improve himself and help others.   The bad guys always try to use their power for selfish reasons, and it always leads to empty achievements.   Conquests they can’t enjoy, endless searches for fulfillment, and pointless scrambling for even greater power.    Any fool with a weapon can murder someone, so what difference does it make to rule the world or be the strongest in the universe if that’s all you know to do with your time?

What’s all of this have to do with Janemba?   Remember, he’s been possessed with evil ki from a multitude of wicked souls.    In other words, he’s got the distilled essence of the same thing that made all those other bad guys tick.    Frieza, King Piccolo, whoever your favorite is, Janemba’s got the same urges times a billion.   And this is what he’s become:

Just some goofy man-child-thing that only knows how to hit people and say his own name.   He’s powerful, sure, but he doesn’t know what to do with all that power.  I think it’s safe to assume he could do a lot more than we see in this movie, but this is as far as his imagination goes.   

And that does resemble Majin Buu in a lot of ways.   Let’s face it, Janemba is clearly a knockoff of Buu.    I don’t think that’s a big shocker from a movie series that gave us such bold ideas as “Evil Goku” and “Frieza’s Brother” and “More Androids.”

But I do think Janemba has a bit more to offer than that, because unlike Buu, we get to witness his origin.    Think about all the souls who went through that spirit cleansing machine.    All of their evil desires were stripped away and concentrated into Janemba.   What was their one common thought, the one sentiment that united them all?  What was the one experience they all shared and would want to avenge?    Here’s a hint:

I submit that Janemba represents the combined loathing of millions of souls towards King Yemma.   But Yemma’s not their enemy; he’s just doing his job.   The universe is designed to have Yemma pass judgement on the dead.    That’s just the way it works.    And once those damned souls pass through the cleanser, they can appreciate that with a newfound clarity.    But the evil residue they left behind?   That stuff is still sore about it.  

And, to a point, I think that spiritual waste can find a kindred spirit in Tank Clerk, since he’s also kind of frustrated with the Way Things Are.   He’d rather goof off and listen to his tunes, but he has to go to work and pay attention to his job.    That’s no one’s fault, that’s just life.   I don’t think Tank Clerk was ever angry about it, but the spirit waste comes from people who were, and when they got mixed together...

... You end up with a monster who’s made it his business to rebel against the natural order of the universe.   He traps King Yemma, but doing so causes dominoes to fall all over creation.    Maybe Janemba understands the consequences of this, or maybe he doesn’t, but he isn’t concerned with consequences.   He’s just lashing out like a child who’s mad that he can’t have his own way.    Well, your own way wrecks things for everyone else, Janemba, as we’ll soon see...

[creamypudding]

Writing progress

Hullo.

I'm still trying to get through 'chapter 37' of TTP. It's been very insightful and makes me wish I had somehow been able to uncover all that the story is sharing with me much earlier, so I could have woven a better narrative and included some of these points I've discovered in the beginning chapters of the story.

This is what happens when you don't plan backstory out well enough; regret.

I'm trying to stick to my own canon as much as possible, but do excuse me if you end up reading something which seems completely out of the blue - it just never entered my realm of possibility before I ended up writing it for the first time in the later chapters.

Anyway, I've made progress. 'Chapter 37' is probably going to be Chapter 37, Chapter 38, and Chapter 39. The original 'chapter 38' which is the final chapter of this saga will probably end up being Chapter 40.

If for some hellish reason I end up with a Chapter 41 I'm going to have to do everything in my power to make this story have 42 chapters because FORTY-TWO!!! Don't argue.

So... Writing this new Chapter 37 was fun. The new Chapter 38 has for some God damn reason gotten close to a 20k word count (and could very well increase with time and re-reads) and Chapter 39... well... It's looking to become a massive chapter as well if I can ever figure out how to start writing the things I need to write. It's gonna encompass 3 very dense scenes. You know what... Fuck... TTP is probably going to get that 41st chapter and you know that that means.

Oh geez.

Urgh. Maybe I can chop something up. Maybe if Chapter 39 ends up being really long, each of those three scenes I want to write can be its own, smaller chapter, bringing the total up to 42.

Anyway, I won't know until I start writing it.

If anyone has any requests/wishes/flights of fancy around what you'd like to see in TTP now is your chance. If it's small enough I can possibly include it. An object, a phrase, a sex position ;) Just putting that out there.

I think I'll go back to posting updates on Sunday afternoons/evenings (US time). It's a relatively quiet time for me so I can devote time to uploading chapters. It takes a long time, because I re-read the chapter, making tweaks here and there, and then I have to check the HTML coding and work skin coding if there is any need for it in the chapter.

Lastly, writing and posting is almost as demanding as a full time job, and I do this for free. So... you know, your comments and feedback are the payment. It's even better than getting money, so don't leave me without pay when you see me posting stuff, okay? ;)

[overdrivels]

Oh, for the AU Ask Meme, how about McCree x Bagel medic but here’s where the AU comes in: Bagel medic lives and joins Overwatch again! Is this okay?

Yes, that’s fine. In truth, prior to deciding that I wanted to kill off bagel!medic, there was another storyline where they do meet after Overwatch comes together again. I think I’ve written about it before but I can’t remember how much detail I put into it. So, I’ll just go again:

Premise is pretty much the same as the other timeline where bagel!medic die. 

After taking the shot for Jesse, bagel!medic doesn’t die, but ends up in a coma. Cliche as fuck, I know, but I like the trope. 

Jesse obviously blames himself for the whole thing and gets more and more reckless during his missions and refuses medical help. He’s even against another healer joining them–and let’s face it, most of the medics in Overwatch (according to the premise of this whole…bagel!medic saga) is that they all stay the hell away from Blackwatch. And that suits Jesse just fine but it pisses Reyes off to no end, but Reyes can’t really do anything to make the medics risk their lives voluntarily (except the crazy ones). 

You also have to realize that because bagel!medic’s been helping Blackwatch, other medics had slowly warmed up to the idea of working with them. But after seeing what happened, they’ve begun to shy away again. 

Anyway, the reader doesn’t wake up for a very, very long time. We’re talking sleeping from pre-fall to post-fall. We’re talking about sleeping through Jesse losing his arm. 

So imagine waking up and being insanely disorientated in a hospital you don’t recognize. 

Turns out you got moved to a hospital somewhere (I never decided where).  

There’s a Joel Morricone who apparently has been paying your bills. You don’t recognize the name, but you don’t think too hard about it. Instead, you’re more concerned about how long you’ve been asleep. 

Before you get too far into finding out about Overwatch and Blackwatch and what happened to them, you’re told Joel Morricone is here to visit. Apparently he came as soon as he heard that you were awake.

You don’t know what to expect, but then who walks through the door except:

“Hey sunshine,” he says softly, gently as he kneels down beside you, “how y’ doin’? Brought you a gift.” 

You don’t look away from the man’s face even as he brings a brown bag in front of you and sets it down on your counter. He continues, either unaware or unaffected by your gaze, “Fresh outta the oven, though seein’ as how you woke up not too long ago, ‘m guessin’ you’re not up to it. Not a problem, I’ll bring y’ one everyday if you want. Though, I don’t really know what sorta bagel y’ like–you always seemed to eat whatever.”

The man rambles and rambles, never quite meeting your eyes directly, fidgeting with small things here and there. 

“McJesse,” you say, breathless and much weaker than you had intended, but that gets his attention. The man–Jesse McCree–goes still and his chest rises for a long time before it deflates. He closes his eyes and turns toward you and finally, finally meets your eyes and he smiles so wide it nearly steals your breath out of your lungs. 

“Yeah. It’s McJesse.” Boldly, he grips your hand. “That’s…that’s the name.”

And then I don’t know what happens. Maybe you go back to Overwatch, maybe you live out the rest of your life on the countryside or something and McCree visits you often with other members of Overwatch, acting as a an underground doctor or just another drop-point. Who knows? Regardless, HAPPY ENDING FOR EVERYONE. 

This is actually some snippet of what I had written out before I decided to ditch it for the death route: 

It was a mistake.

A horrible, horrible mistake.

The steady beeping in the room almost drowns out the all-too-loud murmurs outside the door from your fellow colleagues. Angela sat in the chair beside you, her head in her hands as she finally gave herself the time to process everything that has happened in the past twenty-odd hours. Gabriel stood beside her, a silent pillar of support. Normally, these things wouldn’t affect her so badly, but…

He cast a glance at your prone form: head heavily bandaged, wires hanging out from all directions, more lifeless than he’s ever seen you. You were not the first person he personally knew to suffer such casualties, but he had always prided himself on keeping his men safe (as well as those who kept his men safe). It was a heavy blow in more ways than one.

Worst of all was the bagel that sat on the folding table, untouched; an offering and apology going to waste. It was a constant reminder of his duties and the people he had an obligation to.

“I have to go take care of my men. Will you be okay here, Angela?”

It took her several moments to respond, and Gabriel almost didn’t want to leave when she turned her haunted blue eyes–rims bearing the slightest hint of reddish-purple–to look at him.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, I will be all right. This is my duty, after all.”

He politely ignored the harsh intake of breath she took when she turned her gaze back to you. A reminder that life was so very fragile (or, like the cross and writing on his skin always said: ‘memento mori’).

--

Gabriel was certain that you would not blame Jesse for what happened on the mission–what happened to you.

The words, ‘It’s not your fault,’ or ‘Don’t beat yourself about it,’ make it to the forefront of his mind, but those words, no matter how kind they were, would only bring more destruction.  

If he didn’t know Jesse was suffering so much, he’d reach out to slap him. However, proper protocol demands a heavy hand and a scolding. Experience has taught him that there was no better way than this:

“Are you finished moping?”

Jesse threw him a watery glare that Gabriel had no issue shrugging off. “Ain’t mopin’.”

“You owe it to the good doctor.”

--

“You’re taken off all missions until further notice.”

“WHAT.“

“It’s for your own health.” Gabriel fixed him with a glare, much sharper and much heavier than the one Jesse had given moments before. “I know you intend on getting even, but I do not feel like losing another one of mine to the same attackers twice. That’s just bad tactics.”

--

This was the exact situation he was trying to avoid.

Gabriel had to stifle the urge to scream at the top of his lungs, and instead channeled his frustrations through his feet, stomping through the base hard enough for any non-bolted objects to rattle.

--

Jesse’s only vaguely conscious of his missing arm and the soundless ringing that rattled his bones, and only focused on the fact that several meters away, in a room not too far from his, you’re lying there in bed, still comatose and probably would’ve prevented this whole situation in the first place.

“I don’ wan’ no one but that dang bagel-eatin’, name-callin’–guh!”

Gabriel and Angela respectfully kept any comments regarding Jesse’s admission to themselves. 

[taco-night-frenzy]

Crocs and Robbers

Toadette and Goombella, two of New Donk Police Department's (or NDPD) finest.

It's a night in New Donk City like any other when they get the call that a certain crocodile crook is causing crimes. Can they apprehend such a slimy sleazebag? (Spoilers: Probably.)

Fandom: Mario Characters: Goombella, Toadette, Croco Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: Think of this as a teaser for a much longer Detective Luigi fic I'm working on that will be based in the same universe as this one, and takes place before it. Thousand Year Door and Mario RPG will be represented most here, but there's going to be some slight references to Mario and Luigi: Super Star Saga as well, as that game will play a major part in the longfic that I'll be posting later. Hope you enjoy!

New Donk City moved with its usual hustle and bustle. Neon lights twinkled like the stars in the night sky, or at least Toadette assumed that’s what the stars looked like. Not that she ever saw them here. Toads of every shape and size mingled happily along the sidewalks, with even a few Koopas and Goombas mixed in! Maybe things here in Mushroom District were actually turning around.

“Hey, hey, Toadette!” Goombella yelled, mouthful of shroom crepe, crumbs spilling out with each word. “After our shift, we should totally go shopping! You need some better off-duty clothes, girl! Also, you gotta try this, it’s great!”

“I’m driving!” Toadette complained weakly, but truth be told, she just didn’t want to eat it. It probably wouldn’t look good for a couple of cops to be eating sweets while patrolling. “Plus, I think I dress just fine! It’s comfy! My vest and dress match with my hair, you know?”

“Yeah, but every Toad dresses like that! It’s so basic, y’know?” Goombella completely ignored Toadette’s complaint, holding up the crepe in front of her with her mouth. It wasn’t like she could use her hands.

Toadette tried to mask her expression but felt at least a little heat in her cheeks. To Goombas, mouths were just like their hands. It wasn’t anything weird to them, but it still took some getting used to. Toadette took a tentative bite of it, making sure not to get too close to Goombella’s lips. Sweet creamy vanilla meshed together with light rubbery mushroom, all tied together with a fluffy wrap. It shouldn’t work, but…

“Tastes all right,” Toadette admitted, not exactly a huge fan of mushroom style foods, being a Toad and all. “Is this from Zess T. again? Isn’t she, like, basically holding you ransom for money?”

Neon yellow from a Fire Flower sign hit Goombella’s shocked face, her blonde hair highlighted with red light. “Huh? W-well, I mean, I did step on her contacts… You gotta respect her culinary talents though.”

Toadette frowned. “I don’t like the way she treats you. You’re a cop, you know? People should treat you with respect. Just because you’re not a Toad-”

“She does!” Goombella argued desperately. “Just, um, in her own way. Or else, I don’t think she would have given me this treat.”

Before Toadette could counter with ‘Well you gave her those ingredients to make it!’ a raspy Toad voice screeched out from the radio.

“All units, all units! There is a robbery in progress at Dixie Orphanage over at the intersection on Dixie and Cranky Street! Suspect goes under the name of Croco and is reportedly armed and dangerous!”

“What the heck?”

“What the hell!?” Goombella practically spat out her crepe. “Orphanage? Who the hell robs an orphanage?! I knew Croco was low, but this?!”

Toadette wracked her brain. She should know this one, she really should! But… just in case. “Uh, who is Croco again?”

Goombella shook her head. This kind of thing always came so easily to her. Goombella knew everyone and everyone knew her. Toadette didn’t understand how this could be.

“He’s that purple skinned crocodile! He’s partners with Popple! You know, the self-proclaimed shadow thief? They’re a bunch of jerks who’ll do anything for a quick coin! Apparently, even stealing from an orphanage. Croco’s known for his bombs, so it’s best we keep a safe distance. Also!” Goombella seemed to get really offended at this part. “That freak wears crocodile skin crocs! Can you believe it? Totally messed up, and totally tacky!”

Like always, that was a little more information than Toadette needed, but she appreciated it anyway. Before she could hit the sirens, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She quickly glanced at the message.

Yahoo! Hiya, Toadette! Just lettin’ you know I’m gonna be out late tonight! Gonna go explore some old building by Smithy’s territory! Heard a rich old Boo used to haunt the place, so there’s probably treasure! Don’t call the cops on me if I’m not in time for breakfast at Shimi’s lol. -C. T.

“Eh? Who is it?” Goombella asked anxiously, gobbling the crepe down quickly. She really wanted to hit the siren button.

“Just my brother,” Toadette sighed. “Going out to explore some haunted house by Smithy’s. I’ll call him back later.”

Goombella frowned, the effect less powerful when she had whipped cream around her lips. “Hey, you sure he’ll be okay? That’s not a safe part of the city, y’know?”

Toadette quickly put away her phone. “The Captain’s always fine, you know him. He’s done stupider things. Anyway, we really should get going! I want to show Chief Toadstool we don’t need Mario’s help for everything!”

“Ohmigosh, I know!” Goombella said excitedly, bonking the siren button with glee. Red and blue lights swirled above, and already cars were moving out of their way. “Peach never thinks I can do anything! She always credits you!” She rummaged under her seat.  “Hold on, grabbing the mushroom.”

Grinning, Toadette slammed her foot down on the pedal, deftly weaving through the streets. “I know, I know, the Chief still has a little trouble with Goombas,” Toadette said, drifting left through an intersection, the blaring sirens filling her with adrenaline. “But she’s warming up to you! Honest!”

Goombella hopped back up onto her seat, red speckled mushroom held daintily in her mouth. “Psh, don’t I know it. Even took you a while to trust me.” It was hard to tell what with the world spinning around in flashes of light and sound, but Toadette felt a hint of sadness there. “I’m glad I can help with the Goomba rep though, y’know?” She grinned. “Anyway, you ready to boost, girl?!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

With an excited huff, Goombella stuffed the rubbery thing inside a little tube on their dashboard. Instantly, the engines exploded with power, and the exhaust rumbled as their little cop car shot out of the streets and dangerously into the night air.

“Woo ho ho hooo!! Yeah!!” They screamed in unison, barreling towards whatever criminal thought he could cause trouble in their city.

Tires screeched, and car doors slammed. The orphanage was illuminated in the color of justice, red and blue. As per usual, Ted N. Toad was the first to arrive, but also the last to actually do anything. Luckily for Toadette, he had at least set up some police tape and was hooting and hollering at any passersby to stay away.

“What’s the situation, Ted?” Toadette asked the worried looking Toad, hands at her hips.

“H-he’s got the kids and Monster Mama hostage!” Ted said, stumbling over his words. “I-I would have gone in there and handled this myself, but I left my bazooka at home…”

“Sure,” Goombella said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. A very powerful move, considering most of her body was eyes. “You say that every time, Ted.”

Other Toads didn’t take well to Goombella’s sass. “H-hey! I would have! Really! Where’s your bazooka then, huh?”

Goombella didn’t back down to them. Not anymore. Toadette was here. “Don’t need one. Isn’t that right, Toadette?”

Toadette nodded smugly, her hand motioning around the glowing Fire Flower in its holster at her side. Goombella may not have been issued her NDPD (New Donk Police Department) Fire Flower like everyone else, but Toadette would be damned if they’d give her crap about it. A bonk from Goombella hit way harder than a Fire Flower ever would anyway.

“W-well, whatever!” Ted whined, pouty face at full force. “Things are a mess right now. His demands are insane! I have no idea what we should do!”

“What’s he want?” Toadette asked, already afraid to hear the answer.

“A million coins!” Ted cried, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. Are us Toads always like this? Toadette thought to herself.

“A million?!” Goombella repeated angrily. “The Dixie Orphanage barely makes ends meet as it is! Monster Mama relies on donations to keep it open! What the hell is Croco thinking?!”

Hearing the commotion outside, a slimy voice oozed out into the streets from the orphanage. “Nyah, see, it’s a great plan you maroons!” Through one of the windows, the purple croc stuck a megaphone cautiously, his cliché voice echoing out for everyone to hear.

“Ain’t nobody wants to see a buncha kids explode, see? You pigs’ll pay up! And, AND! If ya don’t, I bet that big palooka, Bowser, will, see? Buncha little Goomba kids and Koopa kids in here! That jerk’s LOADED!”

“You slimy freak!” Goombella yelled back, hopping up onto one of the police cars. “Bowser talks big, but he’d sooner smash you and the orphanage just to shut you up! If you keep talking like that, there’s gonna be an army of Koopatrol’s out here, busting down the door!”

“S-should she be talking to him like that…?” Ted whispered.

“It’s fine,” Toadette replied. “She knows what she’s doing when it comes to speaking.”

“But, uh… antagonizing the guy holding a bomb to an old lady and kids?...”

“Shhh, Ted.”

Croco’s voice broke over the megaphone and an old lady’s raspy voice made it out during his shocked state. “…see I told you…” followed by an overly loud “Quiet, ya wise guy!”

“Toadette, hand me a megaphone will ya?” Goombella said in a hushed tone. Toadette retrieved it quickly from their car, propping it up in front of Goombella. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat.

“Hey, Croco! So where’s your pal, Popple, eh? Not like you to go out on your own!”

The gator’s eyes swiveled back to the window, his pupils sharp as his teeth. “Why should I tell ya nothin, ya dumb broad!?” He hissed into the megaphone, making sure to puff his cigar out the window for everyone to see. “Popple was busy, see? Said he had more important things to do than rob an orphanage! Can you believe the nerve of that guy?”

Goombella grinned a toothy grin to Toadette, one that only they could see. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

Croco was clearly getting worked up talking about his partner, leaning outside the orphanage’s window. “Said he had some bigwig to talk to! What’s a bigwig want with a thief likes us, eh? He just doesn’t wanna hang out anymore, I bet!”

Goombella nodded along, but her eyes locked onto Toadette’s. She was giving her a signal. Her eyes glanced at the front door of the orphanage. The place only had two floors, and certainly wasn’t well fortified. Next to all the other tall buildings, the orphanage looked like an on old sack of potatoes left to soak in the rain.

Toadette cautiously stepped forward, making sure to stay out of Croco’s eyesight. He was busy complaining. She gripped the stem of her Fire Flower tight, feeling the heat of its petals burning the air around her. One wrong move, and everything could come burning down. Literally and figuratively.

“Yeah, Popple always has been a totally bossy jerk, hasn’t he?” Goombella said. The way she talked about the guy, it was so strange, it was like she really knew everything about him. “Gets angry at the drop of a hat, too, right? Bet you hate having him as a partner sometimes.”

“Ugh, yeah!” Croco groaned, opening up the window just a little more, cigar now held casually between his scaly fingers. “Literally, too! I drop my hat off while we was muggin’ some chump last week, see? Guy blows a gasket! Starts callin’ me a big dumb palooka, sayin’ I don’t respect the job!”

Toadette used this time to reach for the door. Flimsy. Felt like she could rip it off its hinges pretty easily. But also locked. Croco wasn’t that stupid. She turned to Goombella who was chattering away with Croco like a gossipy school girl and motioned a fist silently at the door. Goombella nodded.

“OhmiGOSH!” Goombella shrieked into the megaphone. “TELL me about IT! My BOSS is TOTALLY the SAME WAY sometimes, Y’KNOW?”

Croco rubbed a slimy finger into his ears, cringing at the horrible static noise coming from Goombella’s megaphone. “Yeah, I know, but do ya gotta scream about it, ya dumb broad? Geez. Thought I heard somethin’ too…” He turned back away from the window for a moment. “Hey, old hag, you trip or somethin’? Keep quiet!”

Toadette let out a sigh of relief, brushing off the splinters from her uniform. The door had fallen apart like a wet pile of twigs at her tackle, and thanks to Goombella, it seemed Croco was none the wiser.

“Man, and just who is Popple to tell you off like that?” Goombella went on, her voice carrying that strange attentiveness. Toadette hoped she never faked it like that with her. “In front of a dude you’re robbing, too? Like, hello!? Embarrassing much?!”

“Oh yeah! And get this…” Croco continued, completely lost in her storm of gossip. At least Toadette knew she should be fairly safe. For now. She’d have to act fast. Gossip only stayed interesting for so long.

Three pairs of eyes gazed out of a doorway at Toadette’s sneaking form. Each eyeing a different part of her. One on her badge, one on her pigtails, and one on her Fire Flower. Goomba triplets. They were tiny, even for Goombas. Their age couldn’t even be in double digits yet.

“Heya, lady!” One called out. “Hey, are you here to get that stupid gator guy?” Another said. “He’s a jerk, I hate him! He kept saying to call ‘Uncle Bowser!’” The third whined. “We don’t know him! Our daddy did, but he’s gone! Monster Mama said he’s working for Uncle Bowser.”

If Toadette hadn’t spent so much time with Goombella, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to interact with these little Goomba kids so easily. Being chatty was clearly a Goomba thing, wasn’t it?

“Shhh,” Toadette hushed them softly, nodding along to them. “I am here to get him, but you guys need to be quiet for me, okay? Why don’t you three run along and…” She struggled to think of something. “Play pretend shop or something?”

“But lady!” The third little Goomba whined. “We got nothin’ to sell!” The first one explained. The second one was happy just looking upset and giving Toadette big puppy-dog eyes.

Gah, she didn’t have time for this. Toadette was no good with kids! She had to think fast. She swung her head around, looking for anything in his dingy little building, her pigtails slapping her in the face at the motion. Ow! Stupid things!

…. Oh! Wait!

“Here, sell some mushrooms!” Toadette whispered, undoing the pink mushrooms at the end of her pigtails. Her braids fell apart, pink hair falling at her back, but she saw the way the kids’ eyes lit up and knew she had made the right decision.

“Gee, thanks, lady!” The Goomba triplets said in unison, catching the pink mushrooms in their fangs with ease. Smiles on their faces, they scampered into another room, calling out some other kids to come look at the new stock they got in their store. At least maybe the others wouldn’t be too scared.

Finally, she could make her way up the stairs unhindered. Each stair creaked awfully, but Goombella appeared to have Croco in her chatty clutches.

“So, I says to him, I says…”

“No way! He said that?”

“He did! Like, I get that he takes thieving seriously, but I gots feelings too!”

His voice became clearer and clearer, and Toadette knew she had found the right room. She’d need to end this quickly. Breathing deep, she clutched the doorknob, and swung it open, shouting in her most police-y voice, “Freeze! Claws where I can see ‘em, Croco!”

“Nyeh?!” Croco grunted, cigar falling out of his fangs and onto his crocs. “Yow! W-what’s the big idea!?” He stuttered, staring into the emotionless eyes of a burning Fire Flower. “Y-yous dumb broads! You tricked me! That ain’t fair!”

The old Toad known as Monster Mama quickly scrambled out the doorway past Toadette, whispering her thanks along the way. She’d keep the kids safe. Now it was just him and her here in what looked to be the orphans sleeping quarters.

“Sorry!” Toadette grinned, loving the power that came from a situation like this. “Let’s make this nice and easy, okay?”

“Oh nice!” Croco growled, gritting his fangs together so hard that sparks flew out. “Real nice! Pretend to be my friend, eh? Knew I shouldn’ta trusted nobody but good ol’ Popple! Well, well, tell you what, kid!”

“Stop talking!” Toadette commanded, her hand tensing over the stem. “I told you, put your claws up!”

“Sure, sure,” Croco conceded, lowering his sack of presumably stolen goods to the floor. “I just need to find a way to pay ya back, see?”

“Enough!” Toadette growled, eyeing the wall behind him. “Claws up, now, or I shoot!”

A snarl. A flash of fangs and white. His claws were out and lusting for her neck. “Pay ya back in spades, kid!” He spat, saliva dribbling wildly down his snout as he lunged.

He was quick, but Toadette was quicker. She fired her shot. It missed him.

“Ha, dumb broad!” Croco laughed manically, clearly forgetting the bouncy nature of these fireballs.

Before he could reach her, the flaming ball bounced harmlessly against the wall and back at him, engulfing his tail in hot red. The thug toppled down before her, legs a blur as he ran circles, smoke trailing behind like he was trying to send out a smoke signal. If anyone could read it, it’d probably say, ‘Help, my tail is on fire.’

“Yeowch, my tail’s on fire!” Croco translated helpfully, chasing after his own tail like a dog. Still, even now, he thrashed about, sack and all, pushing Toadette into the center of the bed filled room. She waited till he calmed down, finally having caught his flaming tail, sucking on the thing with tears in his eyes.

“Give up yet?” Toadette huffed, clutching her Fire Flower confidently. “Or should I turn up the heat?” Oh, that sounded cool. She wished Goombella heard that.

“Grrr! You’re a filthy cheat!” Croco hissed. “Well, I can cheat too, see?!” In an impossibly quick motion, he reached into his sack and pulled out a tiny bomb, shaped like a bob-omb. Cute. “Bombs! Never leave home without ‘em.” His fangs splayed wide in a terrifying smile. “Try settin’ me on fire again, dumb broad! See what happens! Blow us all to smithereens!”

Toadette flinched, still keeping the Fire Flower’s gaze at the smug crook. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I’m a bettin’ gator!” Croco growled, eyes glowing wildly in the doorway. “And I bet you can’t do it! Sure, you’ll get me, but you’ll be blowin’ up all the kids too! Boo hoo, ain’t that sad!?”

Her mind was a torrent, her hands were shaking. She had nowhere to run here in the middle of the room. She had no time to think. She messed up. Bad.

“That’s right,” Croco said, his voice low. “That’s what I thought, toots. Now, yous is gonna drop that Fire Flower, real slow, see? And when yous do that, I’m gonna cut ya up into mushroom stew! And then I’m gonna-”

Bonk!

Huh!? Bonk!?

Croco’s body fell to the ground like a pile of fake crocodile-skin wallets, his tongue lolling out of his snout. Goombella landed next to him with a stylish flourish and a wink, her head only slightly bruised where as his was already growing a massive red bump.

“What a sleazebag!” Goombella huffed, looking over his unconscious head. Coins danced around him instead of dazed Power Stars. “God! I’m so glad I got to slug him after talking to him so long! Yuck! Next time, Toadette, you do the talking, and let me do the action stuff.”

“Oh, Goombella!” Toadette cried, running forward and hugging the blonde girl tight. “You saved me! Thank you so much!”

“W-what’s with you?” Goombella’s voice was muffled in their embrace. “I thought that was your plan! Get him in the doorway so I could sneak up and bonk him, y’know?”

Toadette shook her head, smiling so hard it hurt. She kept squeezing Goombella in her arms like she was a big soft plushie. “Nope! I didn’t mean to do that at all!”

“Ohmigosh, you ditz!” She laughed, now finally accepting the hug more. Toadette’s pink hair fell onto hers making them a big mess of sweat, tangled hair, and maybe some tears. But that’s okay. Goombella wouldn’t tattle that part. It was tough to let go, but Toadette decided it’d probably be good to let Goombella breathe.

Her cuffs made a satisfying clink! as Toadette snapped them over Croco’s limp wrists. Just in case.

“Peach is gonna flip when she sees you nabbed Croco!” Goombella cooed, gathering up his body onto her head, carrying him out of the orphanage with ease.

“When she sees we nabbed, Croco!” Toadette corrected, opening the car door and stuffing him in like a bunch of old socks and sandals into a closet. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Aw, she’ll never believe I did anything.”

“I’ll make her believe it if I have to!”

Goombella looked down at her feet. “You totally don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I want to.” Toadette nodded, her hair feeling weird against her neck. Maybe Goombella’d help her braid it back to normal again after.

She turned to the dumbfounded Ted N. Toad, who looked like a bazooka had gone off right in his face. “Take care of this for us, will ya, Ted?”

“U-uhm! Y-yes ma’am! I’ll, um! Get statements and clean up and let everyone know we’re good here!”

“Thanks.”

When they got back into their car, Goombella grinned towards Toadette. “I totally heard your corny line, by the way. About ‘turning up the heat.’” She giggled. “That was GREAT.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t tease me!” Toadette whined playfully. “It sounded cool in my head!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, girl!” Goombella laughed as their car pulled back out into the bustling streets of New Donk City. Just like always, the neon lights greeted her with their alluring twinkling. “But after this, we so gotta go shopping, okay?!”

“Aw, c’mon! I gotta be up early to meet my brother for breakfast! How about tomorrow night?”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Goombella agreed happily.

It wasn’t long before their conversations returned, talking about this and that, and what tomorrow might bring them. Toadette was glad she had such a good partner, glad she had someone to share these lonely drives with. Maybe she’d miss their shopping spree or whatever, but there was always tomorrow. Goombella and this city would always be there waiting for her tomorrow.

[a-day-at-once]

January entries #21 to #31

#21

21/01

Hello, diary. I'm sorry this time I took so much of you, I'll be fast. Today at work, Leo and I talked abou KSV, and watched some of the manga's pages. As usual with magical girls mangas, it's a bit... Darker, than what TV's adaptation shows. Well, looks like Leo didn't knew that. Today's sticky note was a doodle of us watching Sakura, so I drew us cosplaying. When the shift finished, I headed back home and feeded Ember. Watching those pages made me remember my first motivations to draw. Inspired me, somehow. So I took you and went to the canal, were we still are.

Do you remember weeks ago, when I told you about journals? How 'diary' suited you better, because people took their journals outside and stuff? I won't stop calling you diary, it's way too settled down now to change it. But welcome to your new life.

It's just a messy, fast sketch. And I'm lying down actually, but I couldn't make the pose right as I wanted so...

I signed it as 'Luz'. It's a friendly nick for my coworkers now, but at first, it was my artistic name. I haven't used it as such in a long time... memories come to my mind, of every painting and sketch that I signed with this name. It means 'light' in spanish. Well, I'll go back home now. It's getting late, I'm kinda tired, and maybe Ember is missing me. See you tomorrow.

- Eva.

#22

22nd of January

Today was pretty long, diary.

There was some kind of event at one of the shops nearby, so I assume that everybody and their mother's brother decided to do their shopping for dinner before they went home. We were packed all day, to the point where I didn't even have time to get the stocking done I was supposed to get done. I ended up staying forty-five minutes after my shift to get it done.

On a positive note, that meant that the end of today's shift coincided with Leo's. On a negative note, when I saw him, I was struck with a bolt of lightning: I had gone on a date with Leo.

We hadn't decided it was a date, not fully.

But he held my hands and taught me how to ice skate.

Was that a date? Did we... Date?!

He bought me dinner, diary!! That was bloody well a date!!

He trotted over to me with a grin on his face and I dropped the boxes of pasta I was holding. Holy god, I went on a date with him! "Hey! What are you still doing here?" He'd asked, helping me collect the wayward pasta.

"Stalking! Stocking," I said, stacking up the boxes. "Yep. Just, uh, leftover stocking stuff. Couldn't get it done during the rush," "Oh, that's the worst," Leo had commiserated. "Want some help? I don't technically clock in for another fifteen or so,"

"Sure," I agreed. I knew my face was redder than red, the reddest I'd ever been, even redder than the time I'd fallen asleep on the beach. Leo ignored how shirty I was being and just talked about a show he'd watched last night. I didn't technically have cable, as watching whatever's on at the laundromat didn't count, so I didn't know what he was talking about. But he filled me in on some of the backstory with animated hand gestures, hysterical character voices, and the occasional dynamic pose. I don't think he ever put a box on the shelf, but the way that he set me at ease after my sudden realization helped more than he could have ever known.

My entire walk home, I thought about the date-not-date. Leo was so relaxed during the whole thing, but I assume I had been too.

I hadn't thought that it was a date the entire time.

If I had, there was no doubt that I would have skated directly into a wall going at least Mach the fuck Five and possibly crying the entire time I did it. I unlocked the door to my apartment and threw myself down on the couch.

What was the etiquette on this whole thing? Was I supposed to ask Leo if it was a date, or would he eventually ask me? Were we just going to keep going on like this forever and ever until one of us wondered if we were supposed to be filing taxes together or something?

What if I asked him and he laughed at me? What if I asked him and he didn't know what I was talking about?

What if I didn't ask him and I died right here, of a heart attack? Ember pounced on my gut, forcing me to unglue my asscheeks from the couch and feed her.

That gave me a three-minute reprieve from the unholy existential spiral I'd found myself in, but I'd made no more progress on my best course of action. Just as I got done cleaning up after Ember dove into her food bowl, I got a text.

From Leo. Leo: Hey, I'm on my lunch break and figured I'd give you a holler. You said you're an artist, right? I want to work on my painting skills. Want to go to the craft store with me on payday? I want a pro by my side! I stared at my phone like it'd grown snakes for what felt like an hour before I typed back. Me: Sure! I should get some more supplies, too. I've been getting back into the swing of things. Leo: Great. It's a date! I stared at the screen, frozen in place.

Dear diary, it seems that Leo answered my day-long epic saga of self-exploration, self-deprecation, and a little bit of absolute terror.

Now, I guess I have only one question. Is Leo psychic?

--hawkwarrd

#23

Welcome to Day 23, diary, 'cause the breeze is so strong and the weather's so dark that I might have dropped you into the snow when I was rushing out the door this morning with my bag unzipped.

Just dash, drop, drown--I've left you out in the air in the sink, hopefully minimizing the damage as much as possible. Would a hair dryer help? Can I even use a hairdryer without setting it on fire?

Fire--god, I wish I had a fireplace. It's so cold. It's so fucking cold.

Round these parts it doesn't snow 'til January--dull dreary grayness throughout the December and  mild-mild-mild chills until January "the Real Fucking Winter" 23rd rolls around with snow so wild I'll freeze my toes off.

I. Hate. The snow.

We're getting snowstorm warnings but I go to work anyway like how we put warnings on prescription bottles and they don't stop us all anyway and honestly? Wasn't busy, given the snow. No one wants to go around in this weather.

We closed early for the lack of traffic. I'm home now, and though your pages are water-damaged and wrinkled and stained, you're still okay. Still functional. We're a lot alike in that respects, aren't we?

I thought about writing another poem, or doodling--hell, my neighbor's kid plays their rap music so loud I considered trying to make my own. I will not. I would be a disaster--but yeah, that kid--they're probably like 13, 14, with a bad attitude and headphones too big for their face and a big button on their backpack that says THEY/THEY PRONOUNS OR I'LL KILL YOU.  Their nickname changes every other day from planet names to galaxy clusters to snowflake crystalline shapes. Their mom, Hadiza, is nicer, all on her own--a tired smile on her worn-pretty face and her hands cracking from dish soap and snow-skin, but she sometimes knocks on my door and asks me to make sure her baby got home okay while she was out at work.

sometimes i think i'd kill to have a family who loves me but that's a bad thought bad bad bad

She's nice, at least, though. When I got home she offered me some tea--you've been awfully quiet lately, Luz! Come in, I'll make you some-- all soft and warm, and well, motherly.

Made my heart hurt a little. Made some of the snow melt.

So I'm here, diary, after a lazy slow cold day, with milk tea and biscuits warming my body from my toes to the brainfreeze I caught in the winter outside.

Good days and bad days, huh, diary? Good days and bad days.

I hear the music playing up from the apartment next door again, but I don't mind it so much right now.

--redlight

#24

24th January

I was painting today after my shift at work.

That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Why I didn’t fully look at the screen before I answered the phone.

It was set to be a good painting, I thought. I’m pretty sure I was trying to deal with what happened at the turn of the year. I was so proud of myself for picking up a paintbrush and getting into that space.

I don’t think it matters, now.

I pressed the phone to my ear, expecting Greg or Susan to be calling me to confirm my schedule for next week.

It was neither Greg nor Susan.

“Hey. I didn’t think you were going to pick up,” Nick’s voice said. “Listen, I know that you’re really mad at Dad and all,”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said, mouth feeling numb as I spoke. I wasn’t here at all. I was at the pizza shop with Leo. I was ice-skating. I was even arguing with an old lady about the price of tuna, because I wasn’t here--

“I think we need to put that aside for a while.” Nick said, sighing. “I’m at the hospital. With dad. And Mum.” He said shortly.

“The hospital?” I said, looking around. Ember sat curled up on the couch. I’d dropped my paintbrush. There’s a splatter of brown-red paint slowly seeping into the cream carpet. There goes my deposit.

“Yeah. Dad’s… Not well. Mum and I talked, and I think… We think, all of us, that you should come home.”

“I can’t.” I spat immediately. “I just… I can’t, I just can’t.”

“If it’s about money, I’ll buy the ticket.” Nick said nonchalantly. Funny, that. Who knew being His Holiness came with such a stunning salary.

“It’s not about the money and you know that.” I whispered, curling in on myself. I could barely breathe, could barely think. “What’s going on?” My morbidity asked.

Nick let out a sigh.

“Dementia, we think. He’s been asking for you.” He admitted, his voice choked. “We’re not sure how much longer he has.” “Dementia,” I echoed. “Okay. I’ll… I need to… I have a job,” I babbled, standing then sitting immediately back down. “Can I call you back?”

“Sure. We’re going to be at the hospital all day, so even if you want to talk to him…” Nick said, trailing off hopefully.

How he wanted a perfect family.

“Right,” I said, finally choosing to stand back up. “Right.”

“Okay. Bye. I love you.”

“I… I love you, too.” I said, looking down at the phone in confusion. Nick hung up.

I felt like I’d been boiled.

Dad had been asking for me?

What did that mean? As far as I knew, he hadn’t uttered my name since I’d left the house.

Was he really dying? There was a time in my life that my father dying had been a fond dream of mine, while I was locked in my room to give me “time to think”.

Nick becoming a man of some monolithic God was hardly original. My father had been patient zero. The outbreak. The drop of contamination in the well.

Mind and body, I still bore scars from being the queer child in a House of God.

How was I supposed to go back to that? How was I supposed to care?

Nick had always behaved like I was being overdramatic, and he still was. How could he just casually call me one afternoon and ask me to go back to that place like it hadn’t ripped everything I was away from me?

The numbness I had on the phone was swept away by the tide of rage.

My father was the type to read from the Bible for our bedtime stories when we were children, to pray before dinner, to attribute everything good in our lives to God.

As a child, I was wont to agree. All the evidence I had pointed to the affirmative. My life was good, and therefore God was good.

It was only when things started to take a turn that I found out the truth.

God made man. Man made pain. Pain made man bitter and tired.

Dear diary, I am so bitter. So tired.

Somehow, my father had found out that I was queer. I had been trying things on for size at school, trying to grow into myself in a safe space.

Soon after, the mill downsized. My father was one of the many that were turned away, no pension, no benefits.

Many people would have turned to alcohol, to drugs, to anything to make that horror seem far away for awhile, but my father turned to God. We went to church Sundays and Wednesdays. We prayed every night, together, before bed.

I’m sure there are people out there who thrive in that environment. Nick sure had.

Me? Not so much.

Especially not when I was to blame for my father’s layoff. They laid the family’s flaws at my front door, blaming my queerness for why things were going wrong.

God is punishing me, they said. I was unnatural, they said.

Ember made a small chirrup from the couch and I looked over at her.

I couldn’t go back, I thought dumbly. They wouldn’t let a cat on the train, and Ember surely wasn’t staying here by herself.

I looked back down at the phone.

I had a few options. Running through them would help sort the cluttered stack of panicked thoughts in my mind, made frantic from a single phone call.

Option one: never call Nick back, throw my phone into the canal.

Option two: call Nick back, tell him I can’t go back, but talk to my father on the phone. Option three: call Nick back, tell him to buy me a ticket, go back to my hometown.

Just thinking the third one made me sick to my stomach, so I crossed it off. I couldn’t do it. Not now, at least.

Option two seemed like the best way to keep everyone happy. I was the equalizer. I was the one that kept everything together.

This was my role in the family.

I picked up my phone, but instead of dialling Nick, I dialled Leo.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Leo answered. He sounded cheerful but suspicious. I would be, too. We’d only texted a few times since the date. (Not date? What the fuck ever, I’ve got other shit happening.)

“Something… crazy, honestly. Do you have a second?” The background noise on the call stopped and I heard a door close.

“Yeah. I’m all ears. What’s going on?”

I gave Leo the five-minute version of my family history, much like he’d given me over pizza. It was sanitized, but I could hear him hiss through his teeth while I recounted certain tales.

“Now he’s sick. Nick says its dementia and he wants to see me, but…”

“You can’t.” Leo said firmly.

“Right.” I agreed, folding my arm across my chest. “It would be…”

“Bad, bad, bad.” Leo said. I could nearly see him shaking his head, his hair getting in his eyes. “No bueno.”

“Nick said I could talk to him on the phone, but…”

“Do you owe him that, honestly?” Leo asked me.

“Do I owe him?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to be just a phone call, alright, but you’re freaking out. Do you owe him your piece of mind? Do you owe any of them your peace of mind?”

What a question. “I don’t think so.” Leo said, softly into the silence. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that you are worthy of peace. You are worthy of happiness.”

There was a lump in my throat and I could scarcely breathe.

“I dunno if anybody ever told you that, but it’s true.”

“Thank you,” I choked out.

“Anytime. Literally, day or night.” Leo said. I heard a door bang open and someone calling his name. “I have to go back in, but are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. I am.” I said, and I didn’t know it was true until that moment. “I think I’m going to call Nick back.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Leo asked.

“That I’m not going to talk to my father,” I said, gulping slightly around the tears that threatened to choke me. “At least not now. And I’m not going back there. Ever.”

“Good. Great,” Leo said. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much,”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?’

“Okay.” I agreed again. We hung up, saying our goodbyes.

The phone lay in my hand, inert, but it felt like the potential energy contained inside of it could level a city the size of New York.

I took a deep breath, moved to the couch, and grabbed Ember around the middle. She opened an eye at me, offended, but I wrapped her sleepy, limp body around my neck like a scarf and the warmth seemed to appease her for a moment before she oozed partially down my chest, keeping her head near my chin.

With my little mascot, I opened my contacts and pressed on Nick’s.

“Hey! Are you clear to come down?” He answered.

“No, Nick. I’m not coming down.” I said firmly. The phone shaking in my hand and my other hand tangled in Ember’s fur belied my strong tone.

“What? What do you mean you’re not coming down?” I gulped at his angry voice and the sound of him walking down an expanse of tile. “I can’t go back, Nick. I’m sorry.”

“Your father is dying and you won’t even go see him?” Nick shouted and something within me snapped.

“I was dying!” I growled. “I was dying and nobody even cared!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The entire time I spent praying for something to change inside of me, praying to be anyone else but me, I was fucking dying, Nick, and none of you gave a single shit. In order for me to survive, I can’t go back to that place.” My voice was shaking, but my hands were firm. “I’m not going to do that to myself, not again.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously just being a baby? What about ‘Dad’s dying’ do you not understand?” Nick said incredulously.

“You’re not listening to a word I’ve said,” I spat, sitting forward on the couch. Ember shot me the evil-eye, but she stayed. What a good cat.

“Yes, I did! You said that you’re not going to come and see your dying father because he tried to raise you right.”

“No, I’m not coming to see the man who raised me to believe I was an abomination because I would like to live.” I growled, clenching my jaw. “I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are, too.” Nick said. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”

“So am I.”

I hung up the phone. I stood, cradling Ember in my arms. I sat back in my painting chair.

I bent, picking up the partially-dried paintbrush.

I rinsed it off, picking up more colour.

I started to paint.

--hawkwarrd

#25

Day 25.

I woke up just a few moments ago. That's why my handwriting is so sloppy. I'm sorry.

I didn't really sleep. I couldn't. All I could think about was that fucking phone call and my dad and my brother's unbearably loud voice screeching into my ear. I don't even need to read what I wrote last night again, I remember every single word like it was burnt into my brain. (I don't think I can, actually. Read what I wrote. I can't.)

Why did he even call me? Why did he have to call me?

Fuck. I don't want to go to work.

I wish I could grow vines from my body that would merge me with this bed. That's all I need. To just lie here and fucking sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

Update. I tried to sleep for the last 40 minutes and I couldn't. Even having Ember lying against my back didn't help.

I don't want to go to work. But I can't stay here without falling asleep. It'll only get things worse.

I just got a text from Leo. He asked if I'm okay and if I want him to call in sick for me.

You see that, diary? He cares about me more than my entire family combined. Unless he doesn't. Unless it's all a show and he actually doesn't care and nobody cares and I'll end up all alone again and my own fucking brain will keep on screaming and screaming until I take that rope again and ch

Sorry. I'm sorry. I wrote too hard and now your page is a bit ripped.

I told him I'll come.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿ Here we meet again diary. My damaged diary, just like me.

Today was… odd. It was… bad, but… somehow… I dunno. Sometimes it was okay, and other times… it was a disaster.

I was late to work but Greg said it was okay. He was in charge again so he put me in the cleaning product section, to put the new price stickers on the products that were on sale. Then he told me to put in the cans in order and do some stuff like that.

I went to lunch with Leo again but nothing that big this time. We sat outside and ate some sandwiches he made (they were perfect. Cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and salty butter. I couldn't ask for a better homemade lunch than that. I didn't, actually, he just brought it and shared it with me and made my morning better), and just watched the people go in front of us. We played that game I play with myself sometimes, and tried to guess where they went and why.

We saw a woman hastily talking on her phone while walking fast. Leo said she was a lawyer late for court, and I said she was just late to meet her friends somewhere.

We saw a guy and a girl (I said girlfriend, Leo said sister) sit not far from us and laughed at something they saw on their laptop. Leo said they were looking at puppy photos while I said they saw a funny post on tumblr.

We saw a guy walking slowly with a small girl, and while Leo said it was her uncle taking her to eat ice cream, I said it was her brother taking her to the near park, to ride the carousel.

Leo looked at me and asked, “what, like Holden and Phoebe from The Catcher in The Rye?”

I smiled at him, all proud that he recognized what I was talking about. “Yeah. Why not? All he needs is a hunting hat.” I said.

He laughed. “It's my favorite book, you know,” he told me.

“I know now,” I said, and he looked down shyly like only he can, with his freckled cheeks red and his green eyes hidden. So that part of the day was the good part. The only good part.

Even before rush-hour, my luck was running out. I dropped products, I bumped into things. I discovered that I put all the sale prices in the wrong place in the morning and had to rearrange two entire sections. I was already frustrated by the unnecessary work I made for myself, and the embarrassing stuff that I did - I was not ready to spend the rest of my day there.

But I couldn't go home, either.

And then, some point in the afternoon, the store was stuffed. Since it's a Friday, everyone wanted to hurry and buy everything before the weekend.

Which is exactly why I hate Friday shifts so much.

I stood in the dairy section in the back. Once in a while, some random customer asked for help. I tried to stay friendly, at least on the outside. The noise creeped into my bones but I did my best not to let it stress me more than it already did.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and it made me jump. I looked at it and saw it was a message.

It was from Sean.

I couldn't even look at what it said. I just turned off the screen and put it back in my pocket.

At first, I didn't even notice that I was shaking. I kept on gulping and licking my lips, like I was thirsty, even though I wasn't.

Why? Why did he text me again?

My phone vibrated again (and made me jump again) - but more than once this time. Someone was calling, but I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want to see who it was, in case that it was him. I just - I couldn't handle him, I just couldn't. And I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me break. Because that's what he did, that's what he always fucking did, what he was best at - I couldn't calm down, even after I turned off my phone completely. I looked at other parts of the store, to see if I could see Leo, or Greg, or Susan, anybody, but I couldn't see any of them ; they were all too far away, too busy. The entire damn place was too fucking busy and I felt like it was getting too much.

I had to get out. I had to get out but I couldn't. My legs were stuck in their place and there were too many people and too much noise and too much to do.

Fuck. Even writing it now makes me want to puke.

I saw someone. Someone that looked just like him. And for a moment, I was certain that it was him, that he found me, that he actually found out where I am and that he came to get me.

I couldn't breathe. Each inhale I took felt like fire, just like my eyes did when I blinked. I couldn't hear anything but the blood that rushed in my ears. At some point I must have lost my balance cause suddenly my shoulder hurt, and when I looked to my side I saw I bumped into one of the refrigerators, but I couldn't fucking move. It was too hot and too cold at the same time and I could barely stand and I felt like my lungs were tied up and I shook like mad and my throat hurt as if I was screaming (did I? Or was it just from crying?).

Someone put their hand on my shoulder and I jumped and slapped it away. I couldn't really see properly but I just knew that people were looking at me and gathered around me and I just needed to get the fuck out of there, get away from him, get away from everybody, I couldn't fucking breathe -

Suddenly, a familiar voice reached my ear. Leo was calling my name, asking “can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

Somehow I managed to nod. I blinked through the tears and saw his huge piercing green eyes. “Look at me,” he said, “Breathe with me. In,” he took a deep breath, “and out,” he exhaled. He repeated it slowly, just for me, until I felt the fists that squeezed my lungs gradually let go. He encouraged me and guided me until I could breathe without needing to fight for it.

I was numb, for a few moments. Or maybe in shock. But it was quiet, finally quiet, and I needed that, just for a few more minutes. I didn't even notice he took me outside.

“Here,” he whispered, and gave me a bottle of water. My hand was still shaky when I took it, and slowly soothed my sore throat with it. It helped the breathing, too.

“May I ask you what happened?” Leo asked, so gently, so emotionally. I turned to him and felt my eyes burn again. My vision was blurry with tears and I… I tried to speak. I did.

“It’s just… I thought I saw…” I bit my lip as I tried to stop myself from crying again, but it was useless. “That I saw someone that... “

I couldn’t really continue the sentence, but he got it. I looked down at the ground and when I raised my eyes back at him again, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and I cried, letting the tears stream down my face and right into his shirt. I don’t even know for how long I cried but he kept on holding me the entire time. I could feel his arms fold around me, and he was just so tender, so careful, just like he could. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, and his other arm just kept me close, as if I’m going to collapse again. My fist gathered his shirt at some point, and I almost hugged him back.

I don’t know how long passed, but he didn’t let go, even when I was done. And I let him. No one ever… comforted me like that before. No hug ever felt so safe.

When I raised my head to wipe away the trails of my tears, I saw he was crying too.

“Leo…?” I blinked at him, all confused and guilty. “No, no… it’s not your fault,” he laughed through his tears. “I just cry very easily… I just… can’t stay indifferent, you know? Especially when I know what it’s like. I’m sorry, it’s… it’s stupid.”

I managed to smile, if only for a moment. “It’s not stupid.”

He saw I was still trembling and weak, so he suggested to ask Greg to let us take the rest of the day off. “My apartment is only one bus stop away,” he told me. “You can stay in my place until you feel better.”

Despite myself, I nodded. In other situations I would’ve been awkward or flustered at such a suggestion, but… I knew I needed this. I couldn’t go back to work… and I couldn’t go back to my place. Not after this… not when the rope is in there, just a drawer away.

We went to Greg together, and Leo told him I didn’t feel well, and that he needed to escort me. Fortunately, Greg was very understanding, and let us go pretty easily.

We then went to the locker room, to take our stuff. I saw he left me a sticky note this morning, one that I didn’t notice before, and I promised myself to leave one back for him the next time I get the chance.

He paid for us both on the bus, and led me to the back door inside of it. I watched the houses and trees rush in my sight while the bus moved, and felt like they were running away from me (but Leo didn’t). Before I knew it, we reached our stop.

His apartment was on the ground floor of the first building to the left of the bus-stop. He kicked the snow that piled up by the door, pressed the numbers for the entry code and let us both in.

We both took our shoes off by the door. He hung his coat in the corner and told me to do the same. “You can put your stuff here in the corner, so everything’ll dry up,” he said. “And you can go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll make us some tea.”

I did as he said and went to sit on the couch. I felt a bit awkward at first, and would have been much more so if I wasn’t so tired. It was a small place, smaller than mine. He had a small kitchen just by his living room, and the bathroom was just near his bedroom. It was tidy and warmed up immediately when he turned the heater on, and just felt so… homey. The orange light from the lamp made it even more so.

“There,” he stepped slowly and put a wooden tray on the table in front of me. There were two mugs on it, and beside them, a sugar container and a spoon. “Peppermint and lavender. Do you like sugar in your tea?”

I nodded and mumbled, “one.”

He added sugar to my cup and then went to his bedroom, only to come back with a blanket. I was about to decline, but he already put it around my shoulders and it just felt so soft. The teacup warmed my hands up and I could feel myself relax, little by little.

He sat beside me and we drank our tea in silence.

“I’m sorry… about all this.” I finally managed to say, somehow. Words never came out easily for me after a panic attack.

“No, don’t be. Please,” Leo told me. He brought his legs up and bent them flatly on the couch, with his knees turning towards me. “I’m glad to help. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel obligated to explain anything, okay? I know you explained a little before but if you’re not comfortable with elaborating, then I respect that. I just want you to feel… safe. Do you feel a bit better now?”

I nodded and brought the mug up to my lips again. After a few more gulps, I could feel that the herbs were actually helping. “Thank you…”

“Of course.” We finished our beverages and continued to sit there, comfortably silent. Then we talked for a while, about other things. Leo showed me some photos of his sisters and his dog. In turn, I turned on my phone, swiped away the message notification (and the missed call one) so I won’t have to see it every time I look at the screensaver, and showed him the only picture I had of Ember. He said she was the sweetest kitten he’s ever seen. I told him how I adopted her and promised to take some more photos to show him.

I spent much more time there than I thought I would. It was already dark outside when I decided I should go. Even though I ended up napping there for a while before that. He didn’t even wake me; when I woke up on my own from my dreamless sleep, he said he didn’t mind. He had a book on his lap and his phone beside him.

“Besides… it’s nice to have someone around here. You’re the first visitor I have here.” He said. It somehow made me feel a bit… special.

Not long after that, I put my coat on and took my things. He suggested taking me home, but I didn’t want him to bother that much for me.

Apparently he was very stubborn when he really wanted to be.

“I’m not letting you go all the way by yourself, not when it’s so cold, and not in this hour. I have my car here, I’ll take you.” He said.

Before I could say no again, he already put his shoes and coat on (I didn’t bring my own car to work today so I didn’t have any other excuse).

Leo’s car is small and old, but functions well. He said his oldest sister left it for him, and that’s why there also was a leftover smell of cigarettes (Leo hates that smell. Good thing neither of us smokes) that he tried to mask with an air freshener. I told him my address, and we were good to go.

The roads were almost completely empty. People in this town don’t use their cars much, not for Friday nights anyways. Most of the bars and pubs are in the center. I fell asleep during the ride, and before I knew it, Leo woke me up to let me knew we arrived. His hand was gentle and warm against my shoulder, and for a moment, I was tempted to invite him in.

I couldn’t, though. I didn’t want him to see that shithole. Not tonight.

I put my hand on the handle, but I didn’t open the door just yet. I licked my lips nervously and looked down, a bit in a loss of words. I wanted to thank him again, I wanted to tell him that I have no idea where I’d be by now if he wasn’t there, but… somehow, I didn’t find the right words, at the time.

I looked at him, and he smiled in understanding.

And then he hugged me. It was a bit uncomfortable, because of our sitting position in the car, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. It was a different kind of hug than before, but it still felt… protective. Safe. I liked it. (I didn’t want it to end)

I tried to make a lame joke before I let go completely. I don’t even remember the exact phrasing cause it was that lame, but it was something like, “I’d invite you in but I’m late on feeding my cat and I don’t want my first visitor to be eaten alive…”

At least it made him laugh. His clear, beautiful laugh that you can just tell it’s so sincere. Even from a stupid joke, just like that.

We said goodbye and I got out, and he waited until he saw me getting into my house before he drove away.

I fed Ember. I changed into my jacket-and-random-pants pajamas…

And that’s it. The most roller-coaster day I’ve had in a long while.

I decided to keep my phone as far away from me as I could tonight, and put it to charge in the socket on the other side of the room. If I don’t hear the alarm, at least I’ll have Ember to fill in for it.

So maybe this morning wasn’t the only good part of the day today…

And at least now, I can try to have some sleep. Who knows. Maybe I’ll manage, this time.

- hadar

#26 - BLANK DAY

#27

I may or may not have spent most of yesterday in bed.

I did. I only got up to pee and take a shit.

I needed the rest, though maybe not as much as I got. The more I slept the more I feared waking up, and every time my eyes flickered closed like old lamps in desert hospital hallways, I found myself where I didn’t want to be.

My mind took me there, diary. I saw him in his deathbed, and he extended his hand to me. Hands that were heavy on my body, weakened by delusion, perhaps seeing a child he no longer had but pretended God was merciful enough to grant him the vision of my presence nevertheless.

”My beautiful child,” he whispered in a voice that used to tuck me in bed until it became coated in venom. He was glad to see that my hair is short now; he always said that I shouldn’t have it as long as I liked it at the time, that I’d spend more water washing it and each extra dollar towards the water company was one less dollar towards the church charity pot on Sunday. For a brat of fifteen, it made me want to grow it over my shoulders, only to taunt him. Every day he pointed out that it had grown and laughed about it. Playfully, for anyone who didn’t know better, but each low chuckle was a warning I chose to ignore for the sake of rebellion. I’ll never forget the day when he grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked me backwards and cut it himself. One swift, clean lick of a scissors. But that’s straying from the point. In this… fucked up psychic dimension that was my dream, my father extended his hand to me and said he missed me.

He fucking missed me…?

Nick was there too, smiling with his hands resting on our mother’s padded jacket. She smiled too, head tilting to the side as it always did, nails long and pointy, polish of a color that looked ridiculous in a woman of her age, fingers adorned with jewels we could never afford so she took to her own measures to have other men paying for them on the side.

”My beautiful child, please… Come closer.”

In my dream - I was nauseated, choking on bile, my stomach twisting and revolting at the mere thought of being touched by those calloused hands again - I walked to him. I let him fuck no FUCK get away DON’T TOUCH ME touch me and he guided me closer to him, pulling me until he could reach my face and he SHIT STOP PLEASE DON’T DO THIS PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE kissed my forehead. ”My beautiful child,” he said again, ”I’m glad that God gave me a chance. I’m glad that God gave me you.” His hands - weaker than before, one of them connected to a serum pumping machine - curled around my neck. The grip was fragile, barely even squeezing, but I was contorting already, quivering in anticipation, feeling my air lines cutting in advance, heart bursting frantically as if it were scared to be beating for the last time and it was.

”But you’re broken, my child, you’re twisted into a monster. But that’s okay. God will save you just like he saved me.”

The ghost whips of a leather belt stung on a skin that never forgot the pain, a mind that struggled to keep up to the “treatment”, to the sick… attempt at “fixing” something that I had no control over. In my dream I was crying, and I woke up crying just as hard.

Ember, perhaps unknowingly, purred a soothing melody as she curled up to me. It was a song I never heard, but I sobbed against her fur until she tri-pawed away to chase a fly. I was calmer by then, arguably sober in a mental sense, the aftermath of the dream pressing my body further under the sheets. I found myself wondering why I kept the rope. Was it a trophy to remind myself that my cursed timeline could have ended but I pushed through like a champ? Or was it just so I could fantasize about having it around my neck again? I weighed a few thoughts on the second option.

I heard footsteps on the hallway and my heart stilled. I knew it couldn’t be him, but I still hid until I heard a familiar voice.

“Rise and shine, sugar plum.” Greg said from the other side of the door, choosing to tap a few knocks on the surface of the door over ringing the annoying buzz of the bell. I appreciated that, and he knew so.

Greg… He doesn’t talk much. But he always says what I need to hear, even if I don’t want to hear it. Today’s “I don’t want but I definitely need” was, “I’m picking you up for lunch.”

He introduced himself to and played with Ember while I showered and got dressed.

Sunday meals at Greg’s were the absolute opposite of what I used to have back home in Arizona; he had so many people over on the weekend I often considered it smothering. His living grandma on his dad’s side, his parents and parents in law, brothers, sisters, nephews, and sometimes the lonely neighbour who had lost his wife to cancer and always repeated the story of how they had met, over and over, until he saw at least one eye around the table getting teary. Greg’s partner was always there too, of course. My family was never that large, but the silence and the mandatory praying and the television weather report and the roast and the elephant in the room everyone refused to acknowledge, it was all so suffocating--

Me and Greg met online when I was a dumb kid of twelve, playing with an online mask of a twenty year old. It was a thing us stupid kids did back then, trying to be grown ups where no one could prove that we were simply trying on a shoe a few sizes too big for our tiny feet. Greg, he was twenty-one at the time and had just finished high school a few years late, but it was done and that was all that mattered. He tried for college but never made it in. He doesn’t regret it.

He found out about the almost-catfish a few weeks after we started talking, but he never brought it up. Again, he never says anything he doesn’t have to. We spoke every now and then and when I noticed, I had stopped pretending I wasn’t myself.

I told him about wanting to leave my house. He understood.

He’s the reason I had somewhere to stay after I ran away from my family. From Sean. This apartment, in fact, belonged to his younger sister, before she moved to Europe with her fiance. He’s the reason I even have a fucking job. I can never thank him enough for everything he did for me without me ever asking. That’s probably why I never say no to him. Today, it was just us. No overly large family. Just… us. Family, too, in a way.

“Andy’s gone out with his college buddies. Some sort of weekend-long bonding camping trip. He sent pics, you can see them on my phone if you want? It’s over there.” He said as he chopped an onion without looking at the cutting board. I feared for his fingertips, but years of practice had him confident in his technique.

Ah yes. Greg? He cooks amazingly. He and his husband are gym-pumped vegan beasts, and most people would scrunch their noses at being presented with a dish of soy over beef, but the way he seasons the food is just-- chef emoji, super yum, 100/10, putting Rich Landau’s worldwide famous plant based meals to shame. I could drool all over a plate before eating it - ravishing it, rather. I hate carrots, but Greg’s roasted carrot purée is crazy d i v i n e and I could feed on nothing but that for the rest of my pitiful life.

I should have taken a picture à la Instagram, dear diary, but I left my phone charging at home, so I’ll have to leave it for another day. He promised he’d have me over more often, even when I said he didn’t have to. He insisted that he wanted to have me there. That I was always welcome. I pretty much only needed to say the word and he’d have a front door key ready for me.

We ate (have I mentioned how bloody DELICIOUS it was???), he made a stupidly quick yet delightful dessert and we lazed the day away in the couch, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, our legs up on the coffee table (if Andy were there, he wouldn’t approve of that). Both of us had already watched that Schwarzenegger movie like eleven times, but still we sat through it until we fell asleep. I had no nightmares.

When we woke up, it was to a key on the front door and Andy walking in. He had a whole bunch of new pictures and stories to share. It was dinner time by then, and even though I wasn’t too hungry yet, I could never say no to more of that meal, so we ate leftovers from lunch and heard all about his adventures with people I never knew of.

Greg drove me back home close to midnight with a tupperware full of another portion of his food. Before he drove off, he asked me, with all sincerity, if I was okay.

Diary, I wanted to lie and say “yes”. I always did, it was a reply that came out on autopilot. That I was fine and that the embarrassing panic attack I had on Friday was caused over some stupid anxiety, nothing I couldn’t get over with a little more sleep and more of that purée.

But I thought of Leo. How concerned he was. I thought of my day with Greg, how I owed him so much but he never asked for anything at all, and I thought of the amputee cat waiting for me to feed her just upstairs. I thought of how much of a carcass I was in the lonely night of December 31st 2018, how I was so prepared to embrace death as one last attempt at feeling anything at all and how I stood up to Nick like I had been too much of a coward to do before.

And then I said yes. And when I said yes, diary, I said it because I meant it. In Greg’s smile, I noticed he too noticed.

When I got home, I petted Ember, fed her, but she barely ate, choosing to follow me around and rub on my legs instead. I unplugged my phone off the charger to open my messaging app and read Leo’s concerned texts and reply to them as fast as my cold fingers could type on the screen of my smartphone. Pressing backwards when I waited for a reply, my eyes drifted down to see one text from Susan - missed call - and the one from Sean’s number. I found myself praying, for the first time in a very long time.

I prayed that it wasn’t true. I prayed that I read them wrong, that it was the wrong number, that it meant nothing. But I read those words again and again, and they were right there. Mocking me. Taking whatever security I had gained over foundations of sand and crashing them down like a salted wave of restlessness. Greg was one phone call away, but my phone fell on the floor and cracked the screen and I couldn’t find it through my tears.

XXX-XXX-XXX: I found you.

Dear diary. That rope on my drawer is suddenly looking very inviting again.

#28

Day 28. (somehow)

I woke up so many times at night, I can barely call it sleep. Even now, after I put my phone on the other side of the room again, that message still haunts me. Mocks me. Whispers in my ear like a damn ghost, settling in my head like a tumor. Like only he can do.

As I said before. He wasn't the only reason, but he had a huge part in my decision to leave. I can't even elaborate on that, it'll make me - it'll make me want to rip you apart, diary, and I can't do that. Not to the only thing I can rely on with my thoughts and secrets.

Dammit.

Knowing that he found me gives me such chills, I can barely write properly. I tried doing those breathing exercises Greg had taught me but nothing helps.

I want the ground to swallow me whole. I want a lightning to strike me right here and now. I want…

I don't know what the fuck I want.

What do I do now? Do I run away again? Do I wait and see what happens? Do I call him and tell him to leave me alone no, hell no. Definitely not. Not gonna happen. If I listen to his voice, I'll scream.

Fuck him fuck him fuck him. Why can't he just leave me alone? Why can't he just let me be and let me move on with my life?

It hasn’t been this long since the year started. But I finally have something good here, you know? I have Leo and Greg and my job and Ember. I have the lake to sit by and the park to go through to local events.

I have my freedom, something I used to only fantasize about not even that long ago. Finally, I can choose where to go and what to do; not my dad, not my brother and definitely not him. Neither of them controls me anymore. None of them can tell me who I am and who I should be.

At least… That's what I want to believe, diary. That's what I want to believe.

… I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel so weak and confused. I hate that with three little words, he can crush me into dust and take away the one thing I ever wanted.

To feel safe. My phone made that special sound I put especially for Leo so I'd know that it's him. He said good morning and sent a cute lion emoji instead of his name.

I'll get ready for work soon.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Even going to work was a nightmare. That text Sean sent me was stuck in my head, and I couldn't shake the feeling that with every step I made, he made two. It made me anxious. The only good thing about the cold and the snow was that it somehow managed to chill my body, even underneath my coat, because it was too hot even in that weather.

I had to stop thinking about it.

Not long before I needed to start my shift, I bought myself some coffee and some cookies to share with Leo and Sylvia at work. When I got there, I left him a sticky note like I promised myself I would, and he himself showed up not long after me. We shared some cookies and talked, then I gave the rest to Sylvia. She said she'd bring them to her grandchildren, cause chocolate-chips cookies are their favorite.

The shift was rather calm today. Not many people are coming on Mondays, especially not in this weather, so we mainly focused on cleaning and organizing things (it was nice to keep myself occupied, otherwise I'd probably had another panic attack by then). I spent most of the time with Leo while Sylvia was in the cash stand. The three of us had a lunch break together after that, because she insisted and we didn't have the heart to say no. Turned out she brought enough food to feed an elephant, and we ate much more than either of us hoped.

I'm so grateful I had their company today. It didn't undo what Sean did, and let me tell you, I will most likely think about it every day because I can't stand the thought of him trying to find me, maybe he's even watching me-- but… they did help me, a lot. Having them with me kept me… sane. I jumped when I got a message on my phone later in the afternoon, but luckily, it was safe this time. It was Simon, one of the people that volunteer with me in the animal shelter (he's a bit of a dick, but all in all he's okay). He said he broke his arm so he won't be able to be around in the near future. We're pretty much always short on staff, especially ever since the snow started, and our manager, as understanding as she was, kind of freaked out about losing another volunteer. She really cares about the animals in the shelter - she's the one who brought in most of them.

Turning to Leo was my first and only option.

It was towards the end of his shift that I asked him if he wanted to meet me up later and go with me to the shelter. To my surprise (or maybe not), he immediately agreed, and even offered to buy some stuff on his way to get me.

It was only me and Sylvia until I she'd give me the o.k to go, and that entire time I did my best to remain somewhat busy, to keep my mind from wandering towards those three cursed words I have on my phone.

So I drew. I drew the store around me to the tiniest detail. I drew Sylvia sitting behind the counter, writing stuff in her notepad.

I drew Leo out of memory. That one I kept in my locker, later. Leo came to get me around 7pm. When I got into his car, I saw he bought much more than any other volunteer I've met until now. When I asked him about it, he said most of the things were stuff he found in one of his sisters’ bags in his apartment, and the others he bought on the way. He refused to tell me how much it cost so I wouldn't be able to pay back some of the money he spent. I gave him the instructions on how to get there while we were on our way, and he was glad to see part of the city he didn't get the chance to see before.

Later, he stuttered something that I didn't understand at first, and he blushed even more when I asked him what he said. “I - I asked if you're still up to go out with me to the art store on our payday?”

I choked on my own saliva and coughed like crazy for a whole minute. He told me to take his bottle of water from his bag behind me, and while I did, it finally occurred to him that what he said was… That. He began to apologize and say he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable, but I somehow managed to tell him that it was alright. He even said I could call it off if I wanted to, but I told him I never said no. When he turned quiet, I knew it was because he was flustered, even when I didn't look. So I said, “You know, payday is the day after tomorrow… so I guess we can go then.”

He quietly agreed, and right before our silence could become awkward, we arrived at the shelter.

I introduced him to the manager, Georgia, and she showed us in instantly after we brought her the all the stuff Leo brought. She asked me about Ember and I showed her the most recent photo I took. She was more than happy to see the cat already looked bigger and healthier. She said she liked really happy to be with me (I'd like to believe that, too). Leo loved it there. He was so excited to help so many kinds of animals in one place, and he was actually good at it. He was charmed by Georgia's story of how she opened this place last spring, all on her own, and how she managed to keep it stable up until now.

I showed him Shelly, the conure that's still really fond of me, but she didn't like him very much. She even tried to bite his finger (how can anyone not like Leo, I will never know).

We spent our time there helping Georgia around until the shelter closed at 9pm. Then we went to grab something to eat (ate Chinese takeaway in his car) and Leo drove me back home.

He stopped me before I got out of his car, by gently putting his hand just above my elbow.

“S-so… the day after tomorrow. Right?” he asked. Maybe he was still feeling bad that he called it a “going out” thing, but… it was cute. That he wanted to just make sure, I mean.

“Yeah. The day after tomorrow,” I confirmed. I smiled at him and that seemed to put his mind at ease.

And now I'm right here, diary, writing to you in a slightly better mood than I was this morning.

I'm kind of excited about tomorrow. More than kind of, actually. I'll go out with Leo and we'll have fun.

But if I'll be honest, I'm… I'm scared. I am. I never admitted that and I didn't think I would, but… You're the only one I can say that to. I don't know what I'll do if the messages continue, or if Sean starts to call more often. Fuck, I don't know what I'll do if he ever shows up.

But for now… I need to keep it together. For my own sanity, at least.

Or at least, I need to try.

-hadar

#29

One of these days, I am going to wake up and my first thoughts won’t go to the noose in my drawer.

Today is not one of those days.

I feel like someone is playing tug-of-rope, and I’m neither on the winning side nor the losing side.

I’m the rope.

One moment, I’ll feel like things are looking up. Like things aren’t all that bad.

The very next I’ll remember the missed calls and the texts on my phone.

It appears that ignoring Sean only made him worse. As I stood at the cash register, I was sure that my phone was ringing off the hook in my locker.

Leo seemed to notice how distracted I was and he kept eyeing me between customers. He’d look like he decided on what to say, but once we were alone, he changed his mind.

I didn’t blame him. I had to look like some kind of wraith, haunting register number three in a fugue.

He broke when we went on lunch together when Sylvia came in.

“Are you okay?”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“I—”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“You’ve been a little out of it all day,” Leo said, tossing his head.

Something in my locker buzzed.

That was an understatement, I thought.

Something in my locker buzzed.

I must have looked like I was on another planet.

Something in my locker buzzed. ‘A little out of it’ was such a nice way to put it. Something in my locker buzzed.

“Should you… Get that?” Leo asked.

I snapped.

“No!” I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands on the table. Leo flinched back, eyes wide in surprise. “If I get it, I’m going to throw it into the canal and I’m going with it,” I snarled.

Something in my locker buzzed.

Leo stood up and walked over to my locker, pulling out my phone.

“Who the hell is calling you like this?” He asked, holding it out from his person like it was poisoned. “You have forty missed calls. It’s not your brother, is it?”

“No,” I whispered. “It isn’t.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but feel free on the walk.”

“The walk?” I said dumbly. He thrusted his jacket at me.

“The walk. I’m going to find Greg. Put this on.”

He stalked out of the lunchroom. He looked livid and I wondered how I could have pissed him off so quickly, so easily.

I hoped he’d at least let me down easy.

Leo came back, Greg in tow.

The phone was still ringing.

“You guys can take the day.” Greg said, giving me a worried once-over. I still held my jacket, standing in the middle of the lunchroom. “I’ll work the registers. Don’t worry about clocking out.”

“Thank you,” Leo said, voice still a little clipped. “C’mon. Out you get.”

I followed Leo as I climbed into my jacket. He still held my phone, and he looked down at the screen.

“Calling again.” He snarled, his upper lip curling. Where was shy, gentle Leo? “This is gonna stop. Now.”

“What are we doing?” “We’re going to the store and changing your number.” Leo said, full of piss and vinegar. “I don’t know who Sean is, I don’t care who Sean is, but you look miserable and I’m not going to sit here and watch someone harass you like this. Fuck him, fuck this phone, fuck the black cloud that’s been around you all day,”

He ranted, turning down the street toward the cell phone branch.

“God, fuck this.” He finished, shaking the phone in front of him with a snarl.

“Are you… Okay?” I asked, slowing my walk. Leo had marched out of the store with a vengeance, setting a breakneck pace toward the store. He slowed with me and shot me a confused look.

“Am I okay? What about you?” He asked, a little more of the gentle Leo that I knew. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I went on a crusade…” He trailed off.

“No, no. I really appreciate this, honestly.” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have done this by myself.”

“How long has this been going on?” Leo held open the door to the store for me.

“A few days.” I said, tossing my shoulder like I hadn’t lost sleep over this. “A few…! Okay, yeah, this is getting done today,” He said, marching up to the desk.

The clerk looked a little overwhelmed at the start, but Leo eventually calmed down enough to stop turning to me and reading me the riot act mid-transaction.

A few of Leo’s greatest hits:

“I don’t know who this person is, but they don’t get to call you a thousand times and make you feel like shit, okay?” --While the woman was asking for my customer information

“Who would even harass you anyway? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life!” – After we’d handed the phone over

“I bet they don’t even have anything to say. This is illegal! Do they know that? We should go down to the police after this, I bet Greg would come, Sylvia too, we would all go with you,” –As she was waiting for Sean to stop calling so that she could access the settings in my phone

Once the whole thing was said and done, we’d been there a half hour. I felt like a flannel, wrung out and left to dry.

Tired, exhausted, and thoroughly told off, but… Good. Having Leo make a big deal out of this and validate my panic over the past few days felt… Good. I thought I’d been making a big deal out of nothing, acting like a baby, but watching Leo, calm, gentle, Leo, fly into a fit over a few phone calls was somehow far more comforting than I’d ever thought.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Leo said, taking the phone back and turning to me.

“Can I go home?” I asked, taking the proffered mobile.

“Of course. I’ll walk you.”

We were quiet for a few blocks, Leo’s righteous rage stemmed for the time being.

“I didn’t overstep, did I?” Leo finally asked. My apartment building was in sight.

“No. I… Thank you.” I said, looking down at my feet. “Thanks for caring.”

“You deserve somebody to care about you, okay?” He said gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I’ll tell you.” I promised. “Just not right now, okay? I’m… Exhausted.” I admitted.

“That’s understandable. I already have your number, so call me if you need anything. Or if whoever that was calls back. Alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Leo said, chuckling. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, eh?”

“Art shop!” I said, twinkling my fingers with a smile.

“Art shop… Date.” Leo said, stiltedly. He inclined his head. “If that’s okay?”

“That’s… Okay.” I said, fighting a smile and nodding. “It’s totally okay.”

“Okay,” Leo said, perking up slightly. “Okay! Okay,”

“Okay,” I laughed. He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of our conversation.

“Okay!” He said, breaking into a big smile and laughing with me.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “I’ll pick you up?” He said, hopefully. I grinned one last time.

“Okay.” --hawkwarrd

#30

Wednesday. January 30th.

  I don’t know why, but I woke up feeling a lot better today.

  I’m not sure what it was; maybe it was the sheer caring Leo had shown in helping me deal with Sean yesterday. Maybe it’s the thought of our date (our date, diary) later today (today!), or the fact that I actually got out of bed at a reasonable hour this morning, or… I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to. It’s the first time I’ve been mildly happy in… years, honestly,  I can’t remember the last time I was – was I ever – I can’t- I don’t know I should know  and I’m not about to question it.

  I think if I mention it anymore it’s going to go away.

  And it almost does. The thought of the past few days come crashing down, and it takes all my energy to push them away. Even then they don’t leave entirely – how could they?

  Sean still knows where I am, doesn’t he or did he never know in the first place?

  What could have happened if Leo and Greg weren’t there.

  Honestly, as cliché and stupid as it sounds (and sorta makes me feel) he – Leo -- reminds me a bit of a prince. I mean, have you seen him? Messy perfect-length light-brownish, hint-of-red  hair, (not to be confused with an artful mess, just… a mess) -- how did he even see someone like me? It’s only a year’s difference but I feel so much older than him sometimes not to mention we have similar music tastes (I found out randomly during one shift that we both liked indie, alternative, and electro swing). Good god, if I don’t get out of this house now I’m going to die, aren’t I.

  The whole day seems to stretch by slowly, so slowly, until finally I look up from my pile of video games and books and lock eyes with the clock.

  2:40, twenty minutes before I’m supposed to pick up Leo from the store.

  I mean – it’s not like we set a particular time or anything. And.. he did say he was going to pick me up. But I know he gets off at 3:00 and it’s only a ten minute walk to the art store from there, and… I may or may not have wanted to stop by and walk there with him.

  It’s stupid.

  And yet, only a few seconds later, I find myself tugging on a sharp, patterned shirt and – whatever else it is when people want to impress their art store dates.

  I’m hopeless, aren't I? I pull into the store parking lot at 3:01 and see Leo walking out the door, finding myself running to catch up with him before he disappears into the crisp air and I have to walk by myself all the way there (because seriously? How weird would that look? Fuck my life but no way is that happening). His eyes light up with surprise and a little bit of pleasant happiness at my sudden appearance as I slide up next to him, looking at me as the cold turns his nose and ears an adorable but subtle shade of red. Or maybe that’s just me?

  “Hey,” he huffs, eyes sparkling, a little more forcefully than he needs to so he can watch his breath become visible. It’s not freezing, but it is January, and thus a bit chilly. Definitely medium-heavy coat weather, which… given from the light one he’s wearing, he doesn’t seem to have realized. Oh well.

  “Hey,” I muse awkwardly in response. My lungs burn a bit from my sprint across the parking lot but I don’t care.

  We fall into comfortable silence, neither knowing what to say. It’s only seven minutes before I see the art store a small ways ahead and glance at him and his strange green eyes, my question rolling off my tongue as we approach our destination. “What kind of art do you like making? Or,” I correct myself, “I guess, what would you like to make?”

  He looks a bit startled, like he hadn’t even considered that. “I’m- not sure. I used to sketch a lot more when I was younger, but I- fell out of practice. A lot of it was pretty bad anyhow.” This time the red across his cheeks is a definite blush, and I think it’s so cute I might be blushing myself. I feel so detached from the events of the last few days and, from the sheer calmness he’s displaying, he does too. It seems like so much drama has happened that even the cool (but not frozen, like that around us only moments ago) rush of air as we step inside the store makes me grin, and I look at him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? I mean, who goes to an art store as their second date?”

  He grins right back at me. It feels… neat inside, and I suddenly realize what it’s been that made me feel so happy the whole day.

  I haven’t been in an art store in ages.

  And this is the first time I’ve ever been in one with someone I care about.

  Someone who cares about me.

  After all, Sean hardly counts.

  “I know, right?” Leo looks just as excited as I am. His response fell so in time with my thoughts that I’m taken aback for several seconds before realizing he’s just responding to my earlier joke.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

We leave the store almost two hours later (to be fair, we looked at everything), me with some new paints at my side and some good pencils, pens, and a sketch pad at Leo’s. Neither of us have mentioned the past few days – if we want to be happy, I imagine, it should be now. It’s a date; Me and Leo (Leo and I)  and the art store, not… Leo and me and the art store and… everything else. God, what have I dragged him into? He doesn’t- he doesn’t need this.

  But he must notice the death of my slight smile because his slips away too, and he purposefully yet gently bumps into my shoulder with a concerned twist of his expressive eyebrows. “Hey, you okay, Luz?”

  Am I ever?

  I’m trying to push the emotions away, far away. I can’t let them ruin this moment. It’s too important to me. Leo’s… too important to me. “Yea,” I say, observing the air from my mouth as it becomes visible just like he did when I first caught up with him. I get a strange feeling.

  It’s obvious he doesn’t buy it and he, being no-one else but Leo, stops with a worried (and then understanding) shift in his eyes. “Is- this about yesterday? Because I- I did say I was- again, I’m- sorry if I overstepped- “

  “No, it’s not… I dunno. The past few days have just been… insane. It’s terrifying. And… I’m scared. Of what that’ll make me do.”

  Leo shuffles where he’s standing. It’s not an alarmed sort of shuffle, merely a sad one, as if he knows what I’m referencing and is familiar with the emotion(s) I’m trying to convey. It makes my heart break a little bit. No-one should have to understand. “Yea.”

  “But I’m glad- that you’re here. You don’t have to stay, but you do.” I stop speaking there because I’m upset I might reveal a bit too much. It’s startling how fast the mood changed.

  “Well, you’ll always have me.” It’s so quiet I wonder if I made it up entirely or if I just misheard what he said. Part of me hopes it was really what he meant to murmur, even if the rest of me feels too fuzzy inside at the hummed declaration to have an opinion yet.

  Then the moment has passed and he looks like he did before, flashing me a grin as he continues walking towards the store where are cars are at. I let it go and fall into step behind him. “Want me to drive you home?” He asks, twirling to walk backwards so he can watch my expression as I answer.

  “Okay.”

  The air around my house, I know, is no different than the air anywhere else, but it… experiences unique. Leo doesn’t mention the fact that I live in an apartment (because why should he, my mind supplies), instead focusing on teasing me about my hair (which now looks as bad as his). I’m tempted to point out his light jacket in return, because honestly it’s been bothering me since the beginning, but I leave it alone with a smile.

  “I had a good time,” he suddenly says. I look over at him.

  “So did I,” I respond, softly. I think it comes out a lot less awkwardly than I considered it might.

  “We should do it again.”

  “I agree.”

  So, nervously, he glances at me, and moves a little closer. (Finally, that sense of awkwardness I’ve been waiting for this whole damn date fills me). I know what he’s doing.

  And then he does it. It’s quick, almost misses because he’s shaking a bit. It’s clear this isn’t his first kiss, just as it isn’t mine – but this one seems like it matters. A lot more.

  Then he waves, even though we’re a foot apart now, and just hums “I’ll see you at work?” before sprinting across the apartment parking lot, back to his car and away from me.

- sher

#31

Day 31

The end of January. For most people, that means the end of striving for a New Year’s Resolution, or the beginning of a next phase, or the beginning of the end of something. Anything.

For me, I feel like it’s the end.

The end of… Something.

My phone was quiet for most of the morning. I worked until two today, then went home and fed Ember, puttering around making lunch for myself and tidying up.

I sat down and painted for a while, not really striving for anything but to get colour on the canvas. It looks like the stuff that I used to do while still in school. Not bad, just… Different.

January 31st feels like the end. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, yet not long at all.

Time has moved so slowly. Every day felt like a decade, but it still feels like only hours ago that I had that rough rope fixed around my neck and the cool wood of the chair beneath my feet. Thirty-one days.

A century.

You are only thirty-one days old, dear diary, and yet I feel like you know me more than any other force on the planet. You are older than time. Older than myself. Civilizations were born and died in your lifespan, watching over each of these thirty-one days with the cool composure of a stone sentinel. Never offering your wisdom, nor telling my secrets.

The secrets, the musings, the crossed-out, scribbled words kept beneath your bindings carry more weight than Atlas carried on his shoulders.

For me, anyway.

To a random passer-by, to a person on the street, they are meaningless. Imperceptive eyes would skim past, reading the words written on my heart turned inside-out and wonder what they could mean. One could look up each word in a dictionary, find the definitions and the nuances in the English language, but would one find the meaning?

Do they mean much to you, diary? Are your arms tired and your back strained from carrying the leaden words I’ve scrawled upon you in a fever-pitch haste to exorcise them from myself? Some days I wonder if this is better for me than simply allowing everything to pass me by.

Writing it down makes all of these things seem real. It gives the passing of time sustinence, body, a corporeal form to drift through this apartment, just as much of a resident as Ember or myself.

Thirty-one days.

Thirty-one more opportunities for quiet car conversations. For walking around an art store and feeling like touching everything, dreaming up ways to use it, ways to craft it, ways to make it mine. For pizza, for ice skating, for crying on the small streets.

For being held.

For holding.

Thirty-one more days to allow the dust to gather on that length of rope.

Thirty-one more mornings to watch as other people go about theirs.

Thirty-one more evenings to sit and listen to the city while I make dinner.

Thirty-one more afternoons to actually create, something I haven't done properly in years.

Dear diary, here’s to the next thirty-one. --cryptidkickflip

[queenxvanessa]

The Electrical Arc || Self-Para

When: December 28, 2018

Where: Astoria/Queens, New York City

Notes: Another story to the New York saga. This will be posted out of order, but pay attention to dates. Shout out to some old friends for helping me write this over the holidays. 

Warnings: Major Depressive Episode

While Brooke had gone to work for the day, Nessa and Arabella decided that retail therapy would do the trick for any sort of heartbreak. The brunette made a note to herself that she’d be rid of a grand portion of her wardrobe the moment she arrived home and that perhaps new clothes would suffice for the time being. They hopped from boutique to boutique in SoHo, trying on and buying the most expensive of clothes until the wee twilight hours. By then, the girls hopped a train to Astoria, in Queens to meet up with the blonde from work and from there would go to one of the fanciest Italian restaurants the city had to offer, in Arabella’s “humble” opinion.

The three of them entered, immediately welcomed with open arms and treated like the fashion royalty that they were. It was glorious and for the first time, Nessa felt a lot better. Perhaps the food had helped her, seeing how it was the first time she had eaten an actual meal in weeks and even the rose gold glow had returned to her complexion. The twins, on the other hand were relieved to see their darling cousin be herself again. To see her laugh and smile and chat with waiters and fellow fashion designers that came across her path, and ask a thousand questions to the chefs.

All was well, until the song that came overhead. While her human cousins couldn’t hear it, the dragon in her did and her eyes began to turn the stormiest of blues that Arabella and Brooke had ever seen. Her face had paled again and her smile had fallen.

“Not this song...” she whispered.

Even though Brooke had tried to get the song overhead changed, the damage had already been done. Nessa excused herself, running out without her coat into the cold air, the sting of the cold hitting her burning skin didn’t feel exactly better, but, it would suffice as she let out an agonizing sob in the alleyway. The purple mascara ran down her cheeks as she angrily cried to herself, fisting at her hair as she sank down to the cold ground. As much as she tried to calm herself to not let her magic go haywire, she couldn’t and when she let out a pained dragon roar, her hands violently sparked and suddenly, there was an explosion causing everyone to run outside.

Horrified, Arabella and Brooke ran outside to see what the commotion was about, only to see an eerie blue electric glow and a tearful Nessa. All she could do was run away, leading the girls to follow as they realized the nearby electric power plant had overheated and blown, triggered by her own intense emotion. However, Brooke, was a track runner and even though Nessa was quick in heels, she was quicker. Catching up to her, she blocked her in, and Nessa quickly recoiled.

“Nessa, sweetheart, it’s okay. But please calm down, we can’t have you blow your cover.”

Nessa was inconsolable, and sobbed, all she could do was shake her head, her eyes now changing a bright amber-orange. The fear was setting in. She could be caught for what had just happened.

Arabella called out, “Nessa, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Let’s get you inside, darling. You’re shivering.”

Nessa stubbornly shook her head as debris began floating. Both twins exchanged a very alarmed expression. They needed to act fast or all of Queens would’ve been toast...literally. 

“How do we calm her, Brooke?! She hasn’t melted down like this--ever?!” Arabella responded in a panicked voice. 

Brooke quickly fished out her phone while her twin tried calming her cousin down and dialed the first person that came to mind: Uncle Ray. 

It didn’t take long for Ray to answer and quickly Brooke had switched him to speakerphone. 

“Hello?” The man said on the receiving end.

“D-Daddy,” Nessa whimpered out. 

“What’s wrong, mi nena?” 

Nessa began sobbing as more sparks went out, the electrical humming getting louder. 

“Daddy, I don’t want to go home after New Years,” She sobbed out. 

“What’s going on, Nessie? What’s that sound in the background?” He asked, concern lacing his tone. 

“Uncle Ray, Nessa got...really badly triggered by a thing and we were hoping you’d help calm her down so we can take her back to our place,” Arabella blurted out as Nessa quickly flared up in anger. 

“I’m fine!” She began quickly wiping her tears, more sending more electrical sparks flying, causing both twins to duck. 

“Princesa,” Ray called out. “Nessa, I know what it’s like to hurt. To be heartbroken, trust me, I know because I’ve almost lost your mother three times in my life time and it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, I know, baby. It hurts,” He began to say. 

“I wish you didn’t have to lie and run off like that and I know that you’re an adult, but you can’t...you can’t do this because holding it back and pretending that you’re okay, running away from it all will just make things worse...but then again, you’re my daughter. You’re a Maldette and we Maldettes...we’re all known for running,” Ray’s chuckle could be heard on the other end, prompting the other girls to giggle softly. Nessa shook her head and began wiping her tears again, the electrical humming began to die down, the sparks in her hands had completely gone out. Her eyes were once again brown, but tearful. 

“It’s okay to grieve over losing your first love. Trust me, I did it, I ran away, too. But it will catch up, and I know it did for you today. It is okay. It is okay to cry, it is okay to scream. Let it all out, but do so in a way where it does not harm you. Because one man should not have that much power over you. You, Vanessa Harley Maldette, were raised to be your own woman. You were raised to be a trailblazer, a pioneer into the new. A queen. Don’t let one man tear down everything that you’ve built within yourself, mija,” He said and then sighed. 

“If you love him, truly love him, Vanessa, set him free. If he returns, you’ll know it’s meant to be and if not, you move on and you keep living, alright?” He added at the end. 

“Okay,” She whimpered. 

“I love you, my sweet girl. My princess. You’re going to get through this and I’ll see to it. Focus on your trip and enjoy Arabella and Brooke’s company. Then when you get home, I’ll make you your favorite cookie cake and we’ll go to the movies and you can hangout with your friends and become you again, sound good?” 

“Yeah,” She sniffled. 

“Then take a breath, unclench that jaw, hold your head high. Don’t let that tiara fall.” 

[edh-a-to-z]

Dominaria - Black

From Blue to Black, let’s see what the Cabal has for it’s loyal followers!

My Top 3 picks:

Cast Down

Grade: A-

Home: Any Black Deck

Range: Very Wide

Like Doom Blade and Go for the Throat before it, Cast Down joins the hallowed ranks of 1B conditional (but not really) instant removal spells.

Grab 7 of these. 

Phyrexian Scriptures

Ugh, someone got blood all over my alter. It’ll never wash out.

Grade: B+

Home: GY Hate, Artifact Decks

Range: Wide

We’ve got it all - Artifact conversion (haven’t seen that since Ashnod’s Transmorgant), Board Wipe, and GY hate, in three easy turns. One of the most interesting mythics we’ve seen thus far. Even with the weakness of Saga’s - people seeing them coming - most players welcome a board wipe every now and then, so unless this gets taken out the round it comes down, BOOM, new board.

And we’ve got a lovely Phi symbol sneaking in the background. Wonder how that infected artifact plane is doing...

Yawgmoth’s Vile Offering

Grade: B

Home: GY Decks, Any Black deck

Range: Wide

Unfortunately, due to the order of effects, you can’t kill something and steal it, but that’s hardly something to worry about. The Legendary hoop of these Sorceries is more worrying to me.

Killing something is worth 2 mana at Sorc Speed in black, and Resurrection without downsides is probably worth 3-4 mana. Entwining the effects is probably worth another 1 mana, so this is a pretty fair card given it needs a Legendary and Exiles itself. Any deck can use it well, but Entomb decks use it more reliably, and I love reliability over anything else.

Blessing of Belzenlok

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

I miss Unholy Strength now. Combat trick version is just bad.

Cabal Evangel

Grade: D-

Home: Cleric Tribal

Range: Very Narrow

Bog-standard Limited filler.

Sweet flavor, for those followers of Belzenlok reading this.

Cabal Paladin

Grade: C

Home: Artifact Combo

Range: Very Narrow

Can combo infinite to take out Hexproofed opponents. Mirran Spy, Banishing Knack/Retraction Helix, cheerio artifact. But there’s other options out there that are easier, or more brutal. 

Caligo Skin-Witch

Grade: D-

Home: Discard

Range: Very Narrow

2 mana for garbage, or 6 mana for “everyone else discard 2.” Solid potential in discard, but I think Dark Deal and Unnerve do a better job, as the body is lame.

Chainer’s Torment

Grade: C-

Home: LG Deck

Range: Narrow

Mild damage.

Mild damage.

Giant monster.

Do it for the meme.

Dark Bargain

Dormammu. I come to bargain.

Grade: C

Home: Any black deck, GY deck

Range: Wide

Few black Instants involve drawing, and they’re usually like Altar’s Reap. This card lets you choose the best two out of three, for double the mana. Instead of a sac, you take 2 damage, but who cares!

Landing something in the GY can work to your benefit, drawing 2 is nice. It’s like a cousin of Ambition’s Cost at instant.

Deathbloom Thallid

Grade: D-

Home: Fungus/Saproling Tribal, 

Range: Narrow

Body’s skinny for a 3 drop, feels like a Penumbra creature balanced for today. A three drop should probably be more than just slightly underpowered and sticky.

Demonic Vigor

Grade: C-

Home: Death Triggers?

Range: Narrow

Nice little cheap recursion, a passable usable Aura. Nice commander tax dodge, if that’s a problem.

Divest

Grade: F+

Home: Discard?

Range: Very Narrow

Another cousin of Duress. I’ve always had a fondness for B Sorcery discard spells, they’ve always had a flavorful effect of “mind ripping” that Black Mages seem fond of.

That said, this is garbage, even in the worst Creature/Artifact meta. 

Dread Shade

Grade: D

Home: MonoBlack Swamp Ramp

Range: Very Narrow

A shade?

I actually like Shades, but they never do well in EDH. Play one on Turn X, pump it with X+1 mana next turn, and wham, tons of damage. Suffers like most of the CCC cycle (like the damn Blue Djinn) with the EDH scaling problem.

Drudge Sentinels

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Ah, Drudge Skeletons, this is what has become of you.

Brutally overcosted in CMC and ability cost. A sorry successor to an Iconic card of Magic’s history.

Eviscerate

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Never thought I’d miss Murder. Limited and Standard has been controlling the removal introduced to the game - reasonable, given the game has been going on 25 years of slow power creep.

Unfortunately, it’s useless for our purposes.

Feral Abomination

Grade: D+

Home: Any Black Deck

Range: Very Wide

Fatties above 4 power don’t really need deathtouch - they should be able to kill things with raw size. With that said, I’m not complaining. This guy is big enough to stomp any small stuff, as well as remain a threat to a 30/30 creature.

But at the same CMC, look instead to Grave Titan, Harvester of Souls, Soul of Innistrad, Sidisi Undead Vizier or Hythonia the Cruel, all around better choices.

Final Parting

Buckle up kids, we’re going on a feels trip.

Grade: C

Home: Any Black Deck, GY decks

Range: Wide

Entomb stitched to Diabolic Tutor could only have a home in EDH. Solid workhorse of a card, if not a spectacular. 

Fungal Infection

Grade: F+

Home: Saproling Tribal

Range: Very Narrow

Saproling Tribal’s equivalent of Darkblast. Feels like something out of Lorwyn block.

Knight of Malice

♪ Fighting hard, fighting on for the steel / Through the wastelands evermore ♪

Grade: D

Home: Knight Tribal, Anti White

Range: Narrow

Black Knight rides again.

Hexproof is the new Protection, making it way easier to understand. Ironically, the two knights can now trade instead of being unable to fight each other. Ah, time marches on.

Lich’s Mastery

Grade: B

Home: Horcrux.dec, Pillowfort Deck, Combo Deck, Token Deck, LG deck

Range: Average

Good luck killing me now Harry, I have another Horcrux!

I just wanna make a trolling deck that’s impossible to kill, just more and more Lich spells.

A good option to keep yourself alive for another turn or two, especially if you have a GY or tokens to feed it. 

LG makes good use of going from this into combo, but there’s a non-zero chance of drawing yourself out with Beacon and the like, so count your cards.

Lingering Phantom

Grade: D

Home: Historic. Recursion

Range: Narrow

While self recurring spells are nice, this offers a poorly priced body, with cheap recursion. Much like Deathless Ancient of recent Ixalan block, it depends on the deck. Might have nominal usage in decks that need something to discard constantly.

Repeatable discard or playable creature is interesting, but not that powerful. I think I’ll stick with Reassembling Skeleton or Sanitarium Skeleton for my self-recurring needs, as they have less activation hoops to jump through.

Rat Colony

Grade: C+

Home: Rat Tribal, Whatever Relentless does

Range: Narrow

Relentless Rats, except top heavy and cheap!

Get 20 of them if they end up cheaper than Relentless (which is still <$2).

For everyone else, grab a Tsavo’s Decree or Kindred Dominance to do something about all these darn rats.

Rite of Belzenlok

Grade: D+

Home: Demon Tribal, Sac Effects

Range: Very Narrow

Make your own Lord of the Pit. Nice to have Clerics for saccing to anything you need, and while a 6/6 Flying Trampler is nice, 6 damage to the face isn’t nearly as bad here as it is in any other format.

The real problem is how bloody slow it is, and the possibility that a turn 6 demon isn’t big enough to be worth it.

Settle the Score

Grade: C-

Home: Black Superfriends (Atraxa?)

Range: Very Narrow

Unexpected PW synergy from Black.

And it’s like a hundred time better than Impale at the same cost. Everyone can use exile removal, sorc sucks but is workable.

Soul Savage

Grade: D-

Home: Any Black Deck

Range: Very Wide

Kinda feels like Death’s Duet.

I’d recommend Death Denied instead, it’s instant, and can scale like crazy. I think it works in most EDH decks instead.

Stronghold Confessor

Confessor? That’s what they’re called now?

Grade: D-

Home: Any Black Deck, Piracy

Range: Wide

Meh as a 1 drop, meh as a 4 drop.

Menace and counters don’t make it that useful.

Thallid Omnivore

Grade: D-

Home: Tokens, Sac Deck

Range: Average

Man, fungi love killing their buddies.

It does a Blood Bairn impression, assuming you’re willing to pay. Still, paying for sacrifices that only have temporary benefits? Meh.

Thallid Soothsayer

Grade: D

Home: Sac Decks, Token Decks

Range: Average

WOOHOO a Thallid!

For all 80 of you playing Fungi tribal, it’s an alternate for Carnage Altar.

The Eldest Reborn

Grade: B-

Home: Black Goodstuff, Discard decks, Res/steal decks

Range: Average

Pact. Discard. Steal

Fun saga. CMC’s a pain, but immediate removal helps, and it scales well to EDH.

Vicious Offering

Grade: B-

Home: Sac Decks

Range: Wide

A nice removal with an option. Simple card that’ll probably be in a sac-oriented Commander deck one day.

Windgrace Acolyte

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Holy hannah, a mono black good guy? That fights the Cabal! Wow!

Filling your yard is better than milling, nominal lifegain is okay, and the body is pathetic. Filler.

See ya soon campers!

Found an image for Monoblack campfire! It’s all the rage in Demon Vogue!

[theultraknight]

The Guard Chapter 6 Beast saga Part 2: A day in the sun

Amore wakes up, in a bright mood as usual. She quickly gets ready, throws on her pink shirt, skirt, converses, and down the stairs she goes.

"We need to move." Her mom says. "What?" Amore responds stunned.

"Do you see this?" Mom says, referring to the T.V.. Which shows cellphone footage of the dragon from yesterday and, the headline. WHEN DRAGONS ATTACK.

"This place isn't safe anymore, we need to go." Amore's mom said.

"Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself, we don't even if that's real." Amore's​ dad says.

"How do you fake a dragon attacking the city, with tons of eyewitnesses, and, camera footage, and people going to the hospital, for first and second degree burns."

"You were up all night researching this, won't you?" He said, giving her a look. "That's not the point." She defended.

He lovely takes her face in his hands. "Honey I get you're scared, but I'm not moving, no matter what, you know how much this house, this land means to me, I'm not leaving, not even for a dragon, but I promise you I will protect this family with everything I have, okay?"

"I trust you will protect us, but you're crazy if you think I'm gonna stop, trying to convince you to leave."

"You wouldn't be you, if you did." He says, and kisses her.

Amore smiles at her parents. No matter the argument, it was obvious how in love they are.

Amore then realizes she needs to get going, so she grabs a pop tart. and walks to the front door. "Good morning, bye."

"Where are you going?" Her mother asks.

"Caesar promised to give me and Dillon a tour around town."

"You already know the town." Her mom says.

"Not really, the few times I left, I didn't see much."

"I still don't trust those boys." Her mom confesses.

"Their good guys, once you get to know them, you'll see that, and besides if you didn't trust them at all, you wouldn't let me go anywhere near them." Amore retorts. "I got to go before I'm late, bye love you." She blows a kiss to her parents.

"Bye honey, have a good time." "Love you, be safe." Her dad and mom says, as she walks out of the door.

Elsewhere Caesar lays on his bed reading a book, when his phone goes off. He picks it up, and sees the calendar alert. Show Amore and Dillon around.

Caesar brings his hand to his head, taking a deep sigh. He can't believe, he forgot about this. Well his book will have to wait.

Amore arrives at the park, and sees Dillon waiting at the benches. Amore waves. "Hey."

Dillon waves back. "Hey stranger, longtime no see."

"We saw each other yesterday."

"I consider that a long time." He says, making her grin.

She looks for Caesar, but no sight of him. "Have you heard from Caesar today?" She asks Dillon. "No."

Next thing you know Caesar appears, running at full speed. And once meeting them, makes a sharp halt. Panting he says. "Sorry I'm late."

"No worry, you're only late by a minute." Amore assures him.

"So where are we going?" Caesar asked, taking small breaths.

"You're the one who's supposed to be showing us around." Dillon pointed out.

"Right." Caesar said remembering that. "Um, why don't we walk around the park for a little bit?"

Amore and Dillon nod. And they all start walking.

As they do Amore gets a good look at the park. She sees a fluffy white dog bring a bone to its' owner. "Good girl, now fetch." The young woman says, tossing the bone. The dog racing off after it.

Amore looks over a couple playing peek-a-boo with a baby. Who clapping his hands, and laughs.

She sees a group of people sitting at a picnic table, eating, and talking.

This is all feels surreal to Amore, to just walk about, surrounded by people. But it's also makes her smile.

Dillon's stomach suddenly roars, and as if on cue. The sound of an ice cream truck can be heard in the distance.

Dillon runs off after the sound. Amore and Caesar run after him. Which is something they're used to by now.

"Isn't it a little early for ice cream?" Amore asked.

"Not when you were running late, so you skipped breakfast." Dillon replies.

They meet the truck right, as it enters the park. The driver opens his window. "You're my first customers of the day now, what can I get you?" He said with his best as buy much ice cream as you can smile.😀

"I'll take a triple scoop strawberry, peanut butter and fudge." Dillon says.

"Mint chocolate chip." Caesar answered.

Amore looks at all the pictures on the side of the truck. Until she finds the perfect one. "That one." She points to the chocolate bunny on a stick.

"Okay here, here, and here." The man quickly handed out their orders.

Once each one had their treat, Amore realizes something. "I don't have any money on me."

"I got it, I'm the tour guide I pay." Caesar hands the man a dollar bill, and gets his change, and they go on their way.

Amore bites into her ice cream bunny. "This is amazing." She says in utter delight.

"You've never had one of those before?" Dillon asked her. She shakes her head. "No."

She then notices a swing set behind him and, walks over to it. "Please tell me you've been on swings before." Dillon said.

"Can you have this?" Amore asked Dillon handing him, her bunny, before he can respond. He takes it, and she takes a sit on a swing.

She starts to rock back and forth. "Hey Caesar, could you give me a push?" She asks.

He goes, and sits on the swing beside her. "I can do you one better now, grab the chains, take a few steps back." He does it while saying it, and she copies.

"Now lift your legs up." They both catapulted into the air.

And as Amore swings, a feeling of exhilaration fills her. To most something so mundane wouldn't be so exciting, but to someone who's never experienced it before it's a thrill.

After a few minutes of swinging Amore gets up, to finish her ice cream. "Dillon where's my ice cream?" She asked looking at his empty hands.

"It was gonna melt." He tells her. "You ate it?" Amore asked.

"I couldn't waste perfectly good ice cream." Amore shoots him a look which can best translated, as really.

Back at the swings. Caesar snatches his hands from the burning hot swing chains. As he gets up, he feels the sun's searing rays on his skin. This is strange he thinks, as it wasn't this hot mere seconds ago.

"Okay how about I make it up to you, by getting you something at the diner?" Dillon suggests to Amore.

The sun becomes brighter and, the heat intensifies. "Hey guys, I think something's wrong." Caesar tells them.

"Why?" Amore asks.

"Didn't you feel how it went from pleasant to scorching in a couple seconds?"

"The weather is weird like that sometimes." Dillon said.

Caesar looks to the sky, and blinded by the severely bright sun. Though he can see a large silhouette. A loud caw rings out. Then flapping sound starts.

Caesar, Amore and Dillon look up, to the shadow moving across the sky. When it descends down, landing with a flap.

What sits before them, is a beautiful giant bird, its' outermost feathers yellow, while the rest are a mix of blues, green, red, purple and, orange.

The sight of the creature sends citizens fleeing, from the park.

"What is that?" Amore asked.

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it's friend, with our scaly friend from yesterday." Caesar hypothesised.

The bird opens its' mouth, eyes glowing with light, and fires a sunbeam at our heroes.

They jump out the way, landing on the ground. They pick themselves up, and immediately run for cover. Finding refuge behind thick pine trees. And with one word, they ready for battle. "Guard."

The avian creature fires off another sunbeam, to the left of the tree Dillon is hiding behind.

Dillon sees the beam move right inching closer to him. So when it's about to hit, he sprouts wings, and enters sky.

The beam of light strikes the tree. Cutting through it like a hot knife. Sending all, but the base tumbling down.

Dillon feeling there's no time to waste, charges forward fists first with the strength of a gorilla. When he gets in a couple feet of the bird. The creature fires a sunbeam, hitting Dillon straight on. Sending him flying back.

"Dillon!" His comrades yell. As he lays on the ground, dazes, and armor smoking.

Caesar comes up with a plan, hoping it will work. Summons his shield and sword.

He tosses his shield in the air. The bird takes the bait, and fires a shot at it.

While it's preoccupied, Caesar was making a sneak attack with his sword. As he makes his move. The bird turns its' head to him, and fires.

Caesar holding his sword with both hands, cuts through the sunbeam. Splitting it in two beams, that lands on either side of him.

The next thing he sees is a feathery tail coming at him. It hits him in the abdomen and, sending him flying yards.

The bird walks forward, get closer to the tree Amore's hiding behind. Amore's nerves go into overdrive. Her fight or flight instinct kicks in, and she chooses, flight.

She zooms off. The bird sees her, and shoots, but she dodges. She's doesn't really have a plan except bide time to make one, and don't get caught.

Her feathered enemy lets off shot after shot. But she evades everyone. She makes a sharp u-turn, barely escaping the last beam. And as she comes around, she gets a good look at the bird. Noticing a glowing M symbol on its' back.

The next thing she sees is a sunbeam then Wham! She falls to the ground.

The fall painful though, she's grateful, she enveloped herself in a shield, the moment she saw the sunbeam.

As she tries to pick herself up, the bird stalks closer.

Her male cohorts pulls themselves up, trying to come to her aid.

Amore finally takes to her feet, as the bird steps right in front of her. When fire strikes the creature, making it cry out.

Amore looks to the perpetrator, the dragon. She looks to her left, and in the distance there's a girl. Before Amore can call out to her, she is called.

"Amore." Caesar and Dillon run up to her.

"Are you guys alright?" She asked them.

"For two guys who got the snot beat out of them, yeah." Dillon remarked.

"Where did that come from?" Caesar asked watching the dragon.

"And why are they fighting?" Amore added.

"Does it matter, I mean as long, as they take each other out?" Dillon said.

"That's if they take each other out." Caesar says.

The bird is losing to the dragon. Its' feathers are burnt and, falling out. As it lies on the ground, the dragon stomp its' foot on top of the bird's wing.

The dragon moves its' mouth to the bird's​ face, and as the reptile's mouth opens. The bird strikes it in the face with its' tail.

Dragon stumbles back, releasing bird from its' foot. Bird soars high into the sky, getting as close to the sun as possible.

Its' sheds its' burnt feathers, and in their place, grows brighter, and more beautiful feathers. Its' body shines like a star, and eyes fume light.

It then moves so fast it, becomes a streak of yellow across the blue sky.

It races over to dragon, and once they're face to face. Unleashes an unrelenting torrent of energy.

Dragon roars, unable to defend itself. And once bird's attack ends. Dragon lays lifeless and defeated.

"Anybody got any ideas, how we stop that thing now?" Caesar asks.

"I saw something on its' back earlier, I think it might be a spell, maybe breaking will stop it." Amore suggests.

"Worth a shot." Caesar says.

The girl Amore noticed earlier, starts running to dragon. "Who is she?" Caesar asks.

"I don't know, after the dragon showed up, she just appeared." Amore explained.

"We need to stop her, before big bird sees her." Dillon said, and takes off like a cheetah.

That's when green sparkles appear and merge together. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner my children."

"Amore fill her in, I'm gonna help Dillon." And Caesar jets off after Dillon.

"Mother Earth that bird has a spell symbol on it, how I do I break it?" Amore asked her.

"You three must combine your powers, look at the symbol, imagine it breaking, and it will."

Dillon has already reached the mystery girl.

"Move." She demands.

"You need to get out of here before, you get hurt."

"He needs my help."

"It's a dragon it'll be fine you, won't." He reasoned.

Then the blast hit. Dillon and the mystery girl's hearts skip a beat. Looking at the energy wall in front of them, keeping the bird's sunbeam at bay.

"Come on, I can't hold this wall together for long." Caesar said.

Dillon and mystery girl begin to run. The second later bird's​ beam wins, and Caesar's wall crumbles. Bird turns its' sights on the running Dillon and mystery girl. It takes a step then takes a... Nothing.

Mother Earth holds her hand out, emanating​ magic, shines like a green star. "Children now's your chance."

The three fly over to bird, landing on its' back. "What now?" Dillon asks.

"Mother Earth said we picture it breaking and it'll happen." Amore said.

Each places a hand around of the glowing symbol, forming a triangle. Amore's hand in front, Dillon in​ front on the left and Caesar's​ the bottom right.

Each one focuses their mind on the symbol. A warmth builds in their hands, and begins to illuminate and, magic flows out. One word appears in their heads. In unison they utter. "Spellbreak."

The magic they hold turns spiky. Connecting with strands of magic. Cracks spreading through the symbol, and once they touch it shatters like glass, and fades away.

Our heroes look at each other, with smiles on their faces. Sharing a high five. They climb off bird, and head back to Mother Earth and mystery girl. "Is it broken?" The former asks.

"Yes ma'am." Dillon says with an army salute. So Mother Earth releases bird from her hold.

Bird darts its' head all about, taking in its' surroundings. Then starts walking towards everyone. Causing Caesar and Dillon, to stand in defensive position.

Bird lays its' head down, in front of them. So Amore bends down, and reaches over.

"Amore be careful." Caesar warns.

"It doesn't want to hurt me, I don't think it ever did." She brings her hand to its' head, and pets it. It hums in response.

"I agree with Amore, someone was using that spell to control this phoenix." Mother Earth said.

Caesar's eyes widen. "Wait, this is a phoenix?"

"Yes, it is a beast, just like the dragon." Mother Earth explains.

"Okay, but where did they come from?" Dillon asked. "That I still do not know but, I went to the temple and, when I did I found an empty tomb."

"How, Medusa should be asleep?" Caesar asked.

"It was not Medusa's tomb that was open, there is another room in the temple, in it lies the tomb of Apep."

Caesar speaks up. "So now we have a mythical fifty foot snake on the loose?"

Mother Earth sets the record straight. "He's not just a snake, he's a man, a very dangerous one."

"Guys." Dillon points to dragon. A bright red pool of magic is swirling around him.

Mystery girl runs to dragon, the others follow behind. She kneels beside dragon, as the magic seeps from his body.

Which entirely becomes blinding red, and everyone looks away.

When they turn back, they lay eyes on dragon, well a baby dragon. "He shrunk." Dillon said.

Mother Earth countered. "No he turned back to his true form, it's been so long since I have seen a dragon, I forgot they can vastly increase their size."

That moment a yellow pool appears, then a flash of light. And what was a creature the size of a one story building becomes, the size of a dog.

"And phoenixes too." Mother Earth added.

Dragon looks up to mystery girl staring at her for a moment, before walking to her, and nuzzling her leg. "I'm glad to see you too." She grins.

Dillon and Caesar ask the burning questions. "Who are you?" "And how did end with the dragon?"

"Who are you?" She asked back. "The good guys now, answer the question." Dillon told her.

Amore tries to explain things a little better. "We're the guard, we're here to help, and we can do that better, if we know what your part in this is."

"I don't have a part, or at least I didn't till well, it started yesterday...

To be continued...

© 2017 theultraknight

[yuniesan]

Girl Meets Season 4 - Episode 18

Girl Meets Season 4 - The Continuing Saga of Riley and her friends as they tackle their Sophomore year in High School. The ups, the downs, and everything in between. What will their sophomore year be like? Read and find out.

Episodes [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

A/N: This is a chapter purely for Zay, because he deserves the best in the world.

18. Girl Meets Isaiah

Zay watched the couples as they interacted, feeling like the odd man out he decided to call it a night and go home, saying a quick goodbye to his friends. But instead of going home he kept walking until he realized he had walked all the way for Riley’s house to Central Park, nearly fifty blocks. He couldn’t help but wonder how his life had gotten so out of hand that he went after someone who was emotionally unavailable. But then he remembered Vanessa, and how badly their relationship went before he started High School. Everything had been fine, his parents even let him spend most of the summer in Texas, but as soon as the school year started in Texas he was alone.

The day before he was set to go back to New York she had broken up with him, she wanted him to be able to go to school without worrying about her. They were thousands of miles apart and long distance relationships never worked. She wanted him to be happy, and not spend so much money on the girl who was so far away. But he had liked her more than she could have imagined and she let him go. Last time he checked she had started dating one of his old friends and he was alone, so his affections had turned to Maya.

As he walked back towards his house, not wanting to waste the money on the subway he thought about how Maya had become that person for him. But he couldn’t really think of anything concrete because in the end she was another Vanessa, someone he couldn’t really have. He needed to find someone for him, Maya had been the illusion for him, a beautiful blonde who was similar to his old life and had the life of a star, shining and bright. Vanessa had been his first everything, crush, kiss, girlfriend, and maybe even his first love but she wasn’t there for him.

When he had gotten home it was close to curfew, but instead of walking inside he sat down on the stoop and watched the cars pass by. Blurs of white and red on the street, going off in different directions just like his life. Maybe he had wanted to be a part of their circle of friends so much he had placed his heart on someone instead of just being their friend.

His mother noticed him sitting there and just sat down next to him, she didn’t ask questions she just placed her arm around him and hugged him close. His mother always knew when something was wrong, and always comforted him without questioning anything. He leaned into her warmth and cried in her arms, not because he had lost the chance to be with Maya but because he was afraid that his heart was doomed to never find love.

  Riley couldn't sleep that weekend, she felt terrible for what happened with Zay even though he said he was fine with it all. Throughout the day she felt spacey and couldn’t concentrate which earned her extra laps around the gym during cheer practice for not paying attention. By the time she got out she was exhausted and wanted to go to bed but instead she messaged Zay to meet her at the Bay Window. At first he hesitated, and said he shouldn’t but she insisted that he meet her there because they needed to talk.

“What do you need?” he said as he climbed in through the window where she was waiting.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “For everything that happened, for inserting myself into your life and getting between you and Maya.”

“Riley, it’s okay,” he sighed looking down at a pillow he had picked up. “I saw it coming I just wanted my chance with her. I mean we had one date and all, but she was distracted the whole time, and when she did give me a chance it felt… I don’t know weird.”

“You really liked her didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I mean the blonde beauty thing was all me,” he said looking at her as if he were confessing his sins. “I knew it got under Lucas’ skin because he liked you so much, but I wanted to know more and then when the triangle happened I guess who else could have her. Lucas was perfect but his heart wasn’t there and I felt guilty for playing a part in what happened between the three of you.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop, no more from that word or anything else, I don’t want pity I don’t want any of that, I just want to move on and see if there’s someone out there for me.”

“I could help with that,” she said giggling to herself. There was a junior on the cheerleading team who liked him but as cool as she acted when they practiced she was shy.

“Riley no you can’t I need to find it for myself, isn’t that what all this has taught me?”

“No,” she sighed pulling out her phone. “That’s the thing, Maya and Josh work now because I pushed them to actually admitting their feelings, I meddle, I fix people, Ohana is going to be tattoo on my body because you and me, and Lucas, Farkle, Maya, and Smackle are family.”

“This isn’t a Disney movie,” he said smiling at her. “It can’t be fixed like that.”

“No it’s not but we are a makeshift family and we help each other, now this girl is nice and older and a cheerleader, and most of all she’s very interested in you.”

She could see his face lighting up, she knew that she had gotten his attention and this was her goal.

“Riley, I have a bad history with cheerleaders.”

“No you don’t, you’re just scared of putting yourself out there and getting burned.”

“Fine you win,” he said throwing his hands up in the air. “Riley Matthews always wins.”

“I’ll introduce you on Friday night, I’ll have her meet us at Topanga’s,” she said smiling at him. “You’ll like her don’t worry. Now stay and have dinner with me and Auggie, since my parents are going out tonight.”

“Won’t Lucas be jealous?”

“Not really, I sent him a message that I needed to get to know you better. He understands, and he knows I feel guilty about what happened so he knew I would want to make it up to you.”

“Okay, well let’s eat.”

Auggie invited over Ava so they could watch a movie while they ate, so Riley got to know Zay better as a person. He had told her that he was an only child, because his mother couldn’t have any more kids after a miscarriage had gone horribly wrong. Explaining that this had been the reason his grandmother tried to instill certain qualities in him, hence the one cookie. She had told him that he was special and that’s why his parents loved him the most. He also explained why Lucas had been such a big part of his life in Texas and why losing his best friend had hurt especially when he started to pull away from him.

  Zay felt lighter when he life Riley’s house that night, for some reason he could understand why she was such a good friend to all of them. She made sure that even when something bad happened that everyone was alright. It made him feel guilty for always making fun of the triangle when it was happening. The two of them decided to take a baking class once a month so that he could send his grandmother something, just how she sent him his cookie. Riley reminded him of his mother in that way, she was comforting when he needed her the most.

The rest of the week went by without so much of an incident for him, he noticed that he talked to Riley more often. Lucas had noticed and smiled at him, he would have thought that his best friend would have gotten jealous but instead he had patted him on the shoulder.

“You and Riley are getting closer,” Lucas said one afternoon while they were in the school gym working out.

“Yeah, you have a good girlfriend with her,” Zay told him. “I’m sorry about the comments I made while you were going through the triangle, seriously I’m sorry.”

“I know, and she does too.”

“Yeah but the more time we spend together, well it feels like I got a really cool sister who knows when I’m having a bad day and makes sure to ask about it. I’m glad you two found each other, she’s a good influence on you… well on everyone.”

“Well she had my heart, so I’m glad she found me too,” Lucas said and Zay could tell that he was hiding a blush that had creeped up on him.

“Man, you love her,” he said after a minute had passed. “You both may not say it to each other but you do. Don’t worry I won’t tell her, but remember if you hurt her, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Get in line, I think her father has first dibs,” Lucas smiled. “I’m not going to jeopardize anything, she makes me a better person, but she also makes me smile, she’s my sunshine.”

The two of them laughed throughout their workout, and Zay realized that what he had wanted all along was what his best friend had found. That one girl who would bring out the best of him, and help him work through his worst qualities. He had decided that he needed to try to get it even if he would get hurt in the process.

When Friday came around he sat inside of Topanga’s dressed in his favorite shirt, his hair washed and brushed, he was wearing light cologne. All this because he told his mother that Riley was setting him up and she wanted him to look good. His father just told him to go with what his mother said because it was better than fighting against it. Riley had sent him a text that she would be there with Lucas to cheer him on but his heart was pounding in his chest.

When Riley walked in she smiled at him, and standing next to her was a beautiful girl with the darkest color hair but the brightest hazel eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like all of the saliva in his mouth had dried up. Riley him that this beautiful girl had a crush on him, but he couldn’t figure out why, she looked like an angel.

“Zay,” Riley called out to him but he didn’t answer, he tripped over himself to stand up.

The girl in front of him laughed but tried to hide it and for some reason his brain told him to pull her hand away from her face. So when he did it he couldn’t figure out what to do, he felt like such a weirdo. So he pulled his hand back and stared at the ground.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see your smile,” he said putting his hands in his back pockets. He cleared his throat before introducing himself. “I’m Isaiah, but my friends call me Zay.”

“Hi,” she said and to him it felt like music in his ears. “My name is Cassie, well actually it’s Cassandra but everyone calls me Cassie.”

“Well I’ll just leave you two alone,” Riley said slipping away from them and walking over to Lucas and sitting with him.

Cassie, was a junior who had only joined the cheerleading team to try and make friends because she wasn’t the type to put herself in social situations. She told him that she had liked him since he had come into Abigail Adams because he seemed like he was so full of life, always laughing and making jokes, but also having a serious side. When she cheered at games she had done it in hopes of him noticing her, but he never did. So when Riley had joined the team, she had been given a chance so she befriended the brunette and automatically felt a friendship grow.

“She’s like that,” he said smiling. “She has a way of making everyone her friend and making sure they’re happy.”

“I liked that, I’ve always felt alone because I’ve always lived a very sheltered existence, blame it on strict Spanish parents,” Cassie told him about her Puerto Rican father and his tendency to make sure she never did anything wrong, and how suffocating it felt.

“Like Mr. Matthews with Riley, you should have seen him when Riley and Lucas became official he faked a heart attack, and even chased the poor guy down the street on night.”

“Yeah so we bonded over that, and eventually I told her... well that I liked you… and well here we are.”

“I’m glad,” he said feeling something stir in his chest. “I would like to get to know you more, if you would… um… like to.”

“That would be great.”

The two of them smiled at each other and talked about school, she was taking an extra year to finish, because although she was considered a junior, she had to take a semester off because her mother had gotten sick and she had stayed home to help out with her siblings. The school had allowed it but she had to stay an extra year because of it. He learned that she had twin brothers who were in kindergarten, and he told her the story of how he didn’t have siblings. The time went by so fast that they hadn’t gone anywhere, so they promised to go on another date. Instead of letting her go home alone, he decided to walk her so that they could keep talking, and when they got to her front door he realized that he lived on the other side of the block.

“We live in the same neighborhood,” he said surprised, since he had never seen her.

“Really,” she looked around surprised.

“Yeah I live over there,” he said pointing at his house down the street. “How have we never met?”

“I guess it wasn’t our time yet,” she smiled, and he realized that she could have been right, they both needed to get to know Riley before they could have met one another.

“Riley’s cupid,” he said smiling.

“Goodnight Zay,” Cassie said kissing him on the cheek before walking into her house. Zay could feel his face heat up as he wave at her. When he had gotten home he sent Riley a thank you text before going to talk to his mother about the girl he had just met. 

*A/N: Yes I’m introducing a new Character to this dynamic mainly because I thought about what kind of girl Zay would want to be with that wasn’t just there but someone he had to get to know because they were friends with Lucas. Riley was already her friend, and she was their connection. Really at this point she’s cupid.... 😉😊 I think the show would have introduced another character at some point because honestly Riley is the type to create a family from the people who have touched her life.

P.S. They’re not dating yet.... I do want them to get to know each other